VOL. 2.
SCIO, OREGON, AUGVST 23, 1890.
CHAPTER VIII.
(COPYRIGHT. 1890. BY BACHELLER & CO.]
. McKee proved to be a man of unusual
intelligencei Acting under his advice
and guidance; I succeeded in surround
ing and surprising the Partisan Rang-
^ers. We swept into their camp without
'encountering any piclrets, and the men,
many of them old friends and acquaint
ances, surrendered without firing à
shot.
Among the prisoners was a sergeant
named Burns, from Lexington; indeed,
he was in command, and him I ques
tioned at once as to the whereabouts of
Frank Brent at the time John Harding
was murdered. Burns corroborated the
condemned mail’s story/ and this before
I told him of my reasons for making the
inquiry.
I noticed that McKee did not ad
vance with us. On the Confederate camp,
but paid no heed to it at'the time.
While I was talking to Burns, I heard
shouts followed by the rattle of car
bines, and, springing to my feet, I saw
the rim of the valley swarming with
gray-coated horsemen.
With my field-glass I quickly swept
the surrounding hills, ahd I saw Mc
Kee with the oncoming troops. Feeling
that I had been tricked and betrayed. I
determined to get out of it as best I
could. With the instinct that domes of
experience with such situations, my
men flung themselves into their saddles
ànd waited for me to move.
It was a brigade and not a’regiment
that surrounded me, shouting: “Sur
render! surrender! you damned Yankee
Sons of guns!” thé Confederates swept
down like an avalanche.
I knew, that our escape depended on
oùr horses rather than on thé weakness
of any part of the oncoming line, so I
spurred to the front; shouted: “Chargé!”
and faced the dépréssion, through which
a dreek flowed out of thé valley.
Quicker*than I can record the act, the
Confederates in our front reined in and
flung themselves from the saddle, and
the next instant Wharton’s Texas
Rangers opened on us with carbine, Colt
and shotgun, and riderless horses went
snorting and plunging past me.
Brayer: men never sat a saddle than
these same Texans, but in a score of
fights with them since Shiloh’s bloody
field, I had never known them to stand
the saber, and my men handled the
saber as a vacquero handles a whip;
The fright of surprise was over. I
cast a quick glance back at my gallant
followers, and I felt; my soul leaping to
my eyes as I caught the gleam of up
raised‘swords and saw the glorified bat
tle light on their faces.
“Hurrah!” We struck them, and they
broke from the front, and scattered to
the right and left.
A few seconds of flashing swords and
crashing small arms. A few -seconds of
unutterable joy—the fierce, barbarous
joy never felt outside of a charge. A
blue wave crested with steel swept past
me. A sudden wonder why I was not
borne on by its force,'and then,-, with a
human groan, my horse fell and I was
1 gave the old man a pass, ordered a
I trooper to see him through our picket
I had just eaten Slipper and was en i line, and, after he had gone, I wrote out
joying a smoke-with my only-lieutenant, all I had heard about Frank Brent and
Walter Arnold;, when a mounted troop had Lieutenant Arnold sign it with me.
er rode iip to' the fire, a cocked pistol in To make sure of getting the informa-
his right hand and a gaunt old man,’ - tion through to Camp Dick Robinson I
with leathery cheeks and butternut . decided to entrust the letter to McKee
! and to send him back as soon as I felt
clothes, marching before him.
“Came into our lines, sir,” said the sure of my ground.
trooper, saluting with the hand that
CHAPTER VIL
held the pistol, “and says he wants to
The knowledge that the enemy was
see the officer in command.”
This man was a fair type of hundreds ■ all about us kept Arnold and myself
of Union refugees I had seen in the early with thé pickets all night. As a matter
part of the war. He was as straight as 1 >f precaution we extinguished the camp
an Indian and there was much of the , lires, and threw up a breastwork about !
aborigine in his complexion and im the inclosure where the horses and
vvagon mules;were feeding. It was half
passive bearing.
Thé soldier turned and rode away, past three in the morning, and I was
, and before I could fram© a question to with the pickets tp the southwest of the
put^to the prisoner^ he. advanced boldly | camp, when, from the direction of
to the fire, and in the peculiar accent of Knoxville, I heard the beat of hoofs,
the mountain men in that region he coming on at a walk, and the unmistak
able clatter of chains and scabbards.
said:
Soon the black forms of horsemen, like
“Hit’s a fine ev’nin’, Kernil.”
spectral silhouettes, come to light
“It might be worse,” J replied.
With inimitable coolness, the old against the stars. If these were Con
man took a bite from a plug of tobacco, federates, I reasoned that they either had
then, sitting down on his haunches be the boldness of great strength or else they
were not aware of their proximity to a
side me, he asked:
Union force. When the foremost horse- ,
, “Be you the head one har?” .
man came within hail, I shouted:
“I am.”'
“Halt! who goes there?”
“Hear from Kain tuck?”
In the unmistakable accent of the
“Yes.”
“A gwine on ter help weuns’ • an Cumberland mountains, the answer
-* -
:
‘ ,
Meester Burnside down Knoxville way?” came:
‘ ‘Mebbe friends and mebbe foes. Who
“Yes.”
■ >
“Wa’al, he needs all the help he kin the blazes are you?”
“Dismount and advance—one at a
git.”
time,” I commanded, as the dark horse
“I suppose so.”
men appeared to rise from the ground
“Ya-as, indeëdÿ. But I say, Kernil.”
• “What-.isW?” I asked, my amazement all about me.
As the strangers did not show a dis- •
at the old man’s coolness and loquacity
position to comply, I was about to give
increasing every moment.'. ..
“Thar’s right smart deenger ’tween the order to fire, when a voice, that had a
familiar ring in it, palled out:
har an’ Knoxville.”
“Hello, that; is that Harry Watts?” :
“That isn't news,” I said.
“That’s my namo,” I replied. “Who
“I reckon not, but hit’s a heap sight
wuss’n you’uns think fob. W’y, thar’s are-you?”
“Wolford’s Fust Kaintuck. A fightiny
Chenowith’s men, an’ Wheeler’s men,
an* Brent’s Partisan Bangers jist a foh the Guv’ment, by gosh!” came the
thrilling reply.
swammin’ har ’bouts.”
“Is that you, Ford?”
Feeling that it was my place to do the
“ ’Tain’t no one else.”
questioning, I checked him and asked:
“And Wolford?”
“Did you say Brent’s Partisan
“He’ll be up shortly with the reg’-
Rangers are near here?” ‘
“Ya-as, Kernil. been har nigh onter ment. Thunder! we’re out huntin’
goin’two months,” ho said, promptly, Brent’s damn .partisans, and thought
adding, after he had sent a stream of we’d jumped ’em.”
The speaker ’ threw himself from his
saliva into the fire: “An* a or-ni-ar-ier
horse, and running up I found myselt
lot o’ hounds I ain’t never seed.”
in the arms of my gallant friend, Cap
“Is Captain Brent with them?”
tain Ford, of the famous First Ken-
“No, he left.”
tucky Cavalry, or “calvary,” as half the
“Did you ever see him?”
men called themselves.
“Be’t your life I did.”
Before daylight the whole regiment
“When did you see him last?”
. Before answering this, question the was up, but instead of advancing on one
line, they swarmed in from every point
old man shut one eye, cocked the other of the compass.
contemplatively up at the sky, and be
Colonel Wolford was at this time in
gan stroking the gray tuft of hair on his command of the brigade to which my
chin with both hands. At length he regiment was attached. So as soon as
said: “I remember hit was nigh onter he • appeared I reported formally and
’bout the middle o’ last months Hé was turned over my command with a great
ove¿ near my place when he started off sf>nse of relief.
aloné foh Kafrituck/ I’ve heard his
Then and till this hour Frank Wol
to .the earth, while the remnant
men say ez how hit was allqóz o< a wom ford has been my beau ideal of a scout ! pinned
of
my
gallant
boys dashed. beyond the
an, for sich l sez moah fool be. But I and leader of irregular horse, and if
wish they’4 all dared out ’bout the same therè evèr was à brayer, more ubiquit reach of the foe.
“By Heavens! that was fine, and I’m
time.”
ous or more irregular body of cavalry almost sorry you didn’t make it!”
This pertainly confirmed Frafik in the world than that same splendid ,
With the feeling of a man rudely
Brent’s story. Concealing the pleasure First Kentucky, history has failed to ■ aroused from sleep I looked up and saw
thé old man’s words gave me, I deter mention it.
a long-haired, black-bearded man bend
mined to take him in hand seriously.
Although a typical Kentucky mount; ing oyer me, while a half dozen men in
“What is your name?” I asked.
aineef, Frank Wolford always‘impressed faded gray uniforms were rolling off the
“George McKee.” he answered, me as a fine typo of the Puritan torse dead horse that held me to the earth.
promptly.
The man who had spoken helped-me
man—a rough rider of Cromwell’s era,
“On which side do you stand?”
living two centuries after his time. In to my feet, and then, with a feeling of
“On the side o’ the Guv’ment an’ Aist the prime of life, of medium height, awful humiliation, I. slipped the knot
Tennessee.’’
strong as a bull, tireless as the wind, from my wrist and let my sword fall to
“Been iñ tjje army?”
stubborn and set in all his opinions, the ground, and I wondered why some
“Ya-as, kinder off an’ on like; but I
with the eye of a hawk and the fearless of the men crowding about me did not
can’t go too far away from the ole wom ness of a tiger, he was just the man to pick the blade up; but it remained un
an; howsomdever I got two boys a fight .lead that .wonderful band of .horsemen, touched while I was there.
in* foh the Guv’ment. Did have three, lie was one of them : he dressed and ate’
“Wa’al, Cap h Watts, you did yer level
but one got shot down Shiloh way ’long .as: they did. He called his officers and best, but yer played a losing game,” said
with Meester Neelson.”
by their Christian naines, and even the long-nairea man, as ne led me to a
“What commands are yOur sons with?” . . men
the
buglers
addressed him as “Prank.” rock and forced me to sit down.
“One’s in the Second Aist Tennes I never heard
a man whose oaths
“How do you know my name?” I
see Cavalry, but uster be Kee-ahtah’s sounded less like profanity. He walked
asked.
critter regiment foah he got to be gin’ral,
with
a
limp,
the
result
or
a
wound,
and
,
.
“Wai’al, that’s tellin’; but we came
an’ the, other—'that’s Mike, he’s ’long
it was said that, his men, from love and over har to gobble you; sorry the crowd
sympathy, limped also.
didn’t stick, by you, but that’s just like
In addition to his own regiment, sojers, ’ said the. long-haired man,with a
Colonel Wolford had with him four low laugh.
squadrons of the Eleventh Kentucky,
“Who are yon?” I demanded.
and he said that Major Brown was hear
“Only Jones; jist Cap’n Jones, of the
by with three hundred of the Seventh Eighth Texas,” said the Confederate.
Pennsylvania;,
“And you will parole me?”
The man shook his head till the long
During breakfast I, told him about
black hair seemed to stand on end, then
Frank Brent, and he replied:
“I reckon that fellow ain’t lying this he said, slowly and solemnly:
“We can’t do it; that ain’t any more
time. But the other side have hung
lots of better Union men; why should parolin’ or exchangin’, more’s the .pity
for us. You’ve got to go through and
you bother?”
I frankly told him the secret of my board at our hotel a bit.”
“Libby?”
interest and repeated the promise I had
“Yes.”
made General Boyle and the condemned
“Well,” 1 said,with an effort at laugh
man’s sister.
“I’il help you,” said the Colonel, “but ter, “I’ll find lots of good men there.”
“So you will, Cap’n; but would you
yo#ll allow it’s a bit strange to see one
Of our people fretting himself to save let me ax you a few questions?”
“Go on,” 1 replied.
such a fellow.',f
“You wear new boots?”
THE INTERVIEW WITH MCKEE.
While we Xvefe talking, McKee came
“Yes.”
into cahïp, seemingly much excited. I
with Martin’s Battery B. Aist Tenn’see,,
“W’hat size?”
introduced him to Colonel Wolford,
fightin’ foh the Gov’mept,” and the old and without waiting to' be questioned,
“Eights, but a size too large,” I said.
man Cinphasized this declaration’ by an he said:
“That’s a most providential coinci
other bombardment of the fire.
“Thar’s a camp of the Partisan Rang dence,” said Captain Jones, of the
f questioned him at length, and be ers with ’bout twenty men in hit, back Eighth Texas. “I wear that size my
came satisfied that he was a good Union’ in the hills not more’n a hour’s ride self.”
man and that hi'S’-object, in seeking me off.”, .
“Indeed?”
out was to guide ifae through to Knox
“Yes, indeedy; and ye’d better git up
The Colonel questioned the old man,
ville by a route that would free me from and all his answers were clear and afore Wharton comes along, for he’s
the swarms of Confederate horsemen prompt.
nigh barefoot, and that’s his size,
then in that part of the State.
“Watts, you’re more interested in . too. Now, old feller, I’m not gwin’ to
After a visit of two hours, McKee rose those infernal Partisans than I am; how rob you of your boots, but I’m ’bliged to
and said:
wou ’.d you like to go over and gobble have ’em, and I’ll pay you thar full price.
“I’ll be back long afoah sun up, an’ ’em?” asked the Colonel'.
Let me boot jack you.”
I’ll be ready to pilot you plum down to
Before I could ask for an explanation
“Nothing could suit me better,” I re
the Holston, but ez hit ain’t wise to have plied; adding: “that isy if McKee will Captain J ones backed up, seized my feet
fellers hold carbines to yer head while guide me.”
alternately between his thighs1, and
you explain, I’d be obleeged if you’d
McKee promptly consented, and jerked off my boots, and with equal ra*
give me a writin’ that ’ll make me free within twenty minutes I was riding for pidity he threw off his own worn foot- j
to come an’ go, az if I was one o’ the hills at the head of forty of my own
you’uns. ”
__ ■: ,
__ ■
gear and assumed mi no.
‘‘ You. kinder think I’m goin’ through
yoii bad,” said Jones, looking down at
his feet with' Ah expression of gréai sat
isfaction.
....
“You are playing the pari of robber
without any risk,” I said.’
“Séo har, Captain Waiis> I ain’t ho'
damn thief. 1 need these and other
things, so I took ’em. . If I didn’t every
infernal home-guard from here to Rich
mond would go through you. Tell, me
thé price of your boots, pants ana over
coat, as well as any greenbacks you’ve
-got about you, and I’ll make a clean
swap for Confed, greenbacks.”
1 subsequently learned that Jones was
thé champion poker-player of Wheeler’s
Cavalry Corps, and this accounted for
the large amount of money hé had stuck
in his pockets, and even in the lining of
his clothes.
He pulled out great wads of bills and
said:
“Pay yourself, ole feller » and don’t be
too d—d bashful, but then you’re a
Yank and thar ain’t no use giving you
any advice. It’s too bad that mar’ got
plunked; she was a beauty;” Ho com
pressed his lips and nodded at my dead
thoroughbred;
Without counting the money, I took
a bunch of the gray and blue backs
Jones, handed me, and said contemptu
ously:
“I may find this stuff useful, Captain,
bût it'isn’t very pretty.”
; “Wa’al,” shouted Jones, as he stuck
the remainder of the wad into his breast
pocket. “I’ll allow the money ain’t
purty, bub the man that despises it is a
fool. Let me give you a bit of advice,
* my son, for you’re goin’ to be with us
some time. Paper is mighty valuable in
thé Confederacy, and when ever you come
acrost a piece that’s got the pectur of a
locomotive or a woman onto it—them’s
two of the d—st fastest things in crea
tion, freeze onto it—that’s money.”
I subsequently found the Captain was
right in all his representations..
CHAPTER IX.
During this talk with Jones» his men
had removed the- equipments.‘from my
horse, and some of them, were search
ing. my saddle-bags, in .which was thé
evidenced had.so. far obtained in favor
of Frank Brent.
I Was about to tell the Confederate
Captain the, condemned man’s story,
when a tall, slender man, with the stars !
of a Major-General oh his gray collar, !
strode into the group .surrounding me.
The reddish hair and beard, the high,
thin aiid much-freckled, nose, and above
all, the keen, steély-gray eyes, told me
that the newcomer was no ordinary
person.
“General Wharton, this is Captain
Watt,” said Jones, by way of introduc
tion.-
The leader of the Texan Rangers
bowed'stiffly, and I acknowledged the sal
utation in the same way. He. was about
to question me when his keen eyes fell
on the papers the man had taken from
my saddle-bags, and in an instant they
were in his hands.
I could see from the expression of
Wharton’s face that he was becoming
excited as he read. Suddenly he strode
up and said, fiercely:
•
“I see Captain Brent is a prisoner and
condemned to death by your people!”
I tried to explain the unfortunate
man’s situation and my connection with
.it; but Wharton would not hear me out.
He ground his heels into the earth, and
hissed:
“By G----- , sir, hanging is a game
two can play at! Burnside hung two of
our people up there in Kentucky, and
two Yankee Captains are now awaiting
death in Libby Prison. I’ll take, this
thing in charge mysëlf, and I’ll see to
it that your neck is stretched if they
execute Captain Brent.”
Burning with indignation at this
treatment, I tried to explain what I'had
done to save Frank Brent, but, with an
insulting sneer, the Texan turned and
left me.
“It’s a bit tough, I’ll allow,” said
Jones, “büt war’s war, and the man that
expects to find any kid-glove etiquette
or ball-room manners in the field is
bound to be badly disappointed.”
With this bit of philosophy, Captain
Jones left me, but not till another of
ficer, who told me he was “acting
division provost marshal,” appeared.
The provost marshal took. my name,
rank and regiment, and then asked for
thejUnited States’ property in my pos
session wnen 1 was captured. 1 pointed
to the dead horse, to the sword and belt
lying on the ground, and said:
“Captain Jones thoughtfully took
charge of all my personal property, and
left me his boots and hat as an evidence
of his affection.”
I had put on Jones’ dilapidated foot
gear in the meantime, and was ready®
for any disposition they chose to make
of me.
“We are moving rapidly,” explained
the provost marshal, “and you’ll find it
mighty hard keeping up on foot. Now,
if you’ll give me your parole not to at
tempt to escape while you’re in my
charge, I’ll mount you and let you stay
back with the wagons. What do yoii
say?”
I said ^‘yes,-” signed the parole and
was at once led over the hill to where a
dozen or more army wagons were
NO. 1J.
. Straight for the purpleline of molin.-
tains looming up through thb^^^g
the east we marched. Now ahK then *
when theroad wound' over.« hili,
could see the dark figures of sWarming
horsemen, and it needed no field glass'
to assure me that they were my own
people?
Here and there silvery puffs of smoke
indicated skirmishing and told how
close the opposing lines were at points,
While during the day and at irregular
intervals, the deep booming of guns-
came up from the direction of Knox
ville.
. As night came on the rain poured down
in torrents, no unusual experience with
me, but aS I had no overcoat and was de?
pressed by what I felt to be the' humili
ation pf my situation, I suffered from
the cold and discomfort as never before.
It was an hour after dark before we
went into camp and another.hour before
fires were lit, The old sergeant who
acted as my guard was an Irishman,
and had been in the regular army in
Texas when the war broke out. I had
talked with Phelin during the day and
was not a little- surprised to find him afi
out and out Confederate, with un
bounded faith in the outcome of the
cause with which he was associated and
the profoundost Contempt for the Yan
kee«
But Phelin, like many of his com
patriots “to the manor born, ” ' had a
Warm heart under a rough exterior.
Soon after the fires were started, he
brought me some corn bread and bacon
and then found me a place bi shelter
from the rain in one of the wagons, in
which he proposed to Spend the night
himself.
“If we only had a little money be
tween us,” explained Fhelin, as he
threw himself on a pile of corn sacks
beside me. “I know where I could get
something that’d keep ou t the cold bet
ter nor a overcoat,”
“ What is it?” I asked.
‘-‘Whisky,” he whispered. MOne of
the teamsters has a two gallon jug that
he shtole last night from a gin’ral offi
cer, an’ he’ll sell a quart chape.”
“How cheap?”
,
“It’s worth its weight in Solid goold &
night like this, but he’s only axin’twin?
ty dollars the bottle,’’ replied Phelin.
1 drew a one hundred dollar bill from
the wad obtained from Captain Jones
And told the sergeant to buy the whis
ky and keep the balaftee, an arrange?
,ment that gave him an immediate „re
spect for at least one Yankee.
Although a Kentuckian, I cared noth-’
ing for whisky, had never wet my lips
■with it before the War, t nor' t'aSted it a;
¡dozen times since, but I swear it did, mb
good that night, and it might have had
the same effect on Phelin had he not
felt that it was his.duty to drink while,
there was a drop left, and then lo go off
howling like a maniac through the camp*
till the provost marshal bucked and
gagged him and left him to' cool off in
the rain.
I never saw the sergeant again. y I
was sleeping soundly about; an hour be?
¡fore day when a hoarse^.voice shouted
into the wagon:
“Turn out thar! the priz’ners is goin’
to be sent ahead!”
Feeling stiff and sore from the cold
and the fall of the day before, I crept
out and was led over to a fire about
¡which were standing forty or fifty men
in blue uniforms and one officer—Cap
tain Dawson, who had been in command
of a band of Union men recruited in the
adjacent mountains of North Carolina;-
These men had been captured in the
skirmishing of the day before, and as
they were without blankets or ove'fcoati1
they suffered intensely from the cold.
A company of infantry, of the home
guard stripe, was detailed' to take the
prisoners on to Bristol, at which point,
it was said, we should, find cars to trans
port the officers to Libby and the en
listed men to Belle Isle.
I have often wanted to forget the
hardships of that match and our painful
journey to Richmond, but it is burned
into my memory. On the way I tried to
comfort myself with the hope that
Wharton had forgotten his threat or
that it would be lost sight of in the
many transfers from guard to guard;
but I was doomed to disappointment—
destined to be held as a hostage for the
man whose life I had been so eager to
save.
CHAPTER X.
We were placed aboard the cars one
cold morning' at Bristol, and shortly
after dark that night we were in Rich
mond. At Danville we were joined by
several hundred prisoners, who had
been gathered there, all as cold,
hungry and “fighting - mad” as our
selves*
Off the way to Richmond the Union
officers were not allowed to communi
cate* with the men, and, on reaching
there < the enlisted soldiers were
marched ever to Belle Isle, and the rest
Of us were sent to Libby.
It was after dark when we began the
walk to the prison, with a corn pac t body
of guards surrounding us, under the
command of a lank, ch illy-looking
Lieutenant. A freezing rain beat into
our faces from the northeast, and the
rays from the swaying gas-lamps cut
through the darkness like shears of
flaming lances.
“Carey street, and that’s Castle
Thunder,” said one of the guards, in
reply to a prisoner in my front.
There was a canal visible to the right,
and beyond that a few yards the black,
swollen flood of the James. Castle
Thunder, the place of confinement for
political prisoners, spies and deserters,
loomed up, a dull, brick warehouse to
the left. There was a close line of
guards about it, and, through the
dimly-lit windows of the gloomy
structure, I could see dark, moving
forms, and the lamp shining full at the
corner revealed in the second-story,
southeastern window a number of hag
gard, gray faces;
“That’s Libby down below to the
right,” said the same guard in response
to the same questioner.'
I looked ahead, and ter the right, a
short distance below Castle Thunder, I
“ i ’ ll see that yqvb neck is stretched .” saw a circle of lamps that flashed on
drawn up on the road. Here I was given the icy bayonets of moving guafds.
a horse that had been ridden by one of . Out of the misty bleakness there loomed
my men that morning, and soon after a huge, square building, and many dim
lights came with a cold phosphorescent
the wagops started off in a hurry.
I glow from its Windows to the west and
north.
A few minutes and wé came to a stop.
“Halt! who comes there?” demanded
1^0 guard posted at the north-wést cor-
?
provost guard with prisoners;”
replied ^.Lieutenant in command. I
looked iip
a little sign At the
cornerof the bùi^i^g On
the
legend . Libby & 80»^. Tobacco’ Facto
ry.'” This sign creaky above A side
door that led into the p.ris^i. offióé aìid
through it we were marched;-
before a desk like that presided ovèi .<v
the sergeants in night charge of police
stations,
.
. The floor was wet and the lights dim.
À little man, whom I afterwards learned
to know as “Ross” ran out from t the
group of men standing near the désk,
and called out excitedly:
. “Cóme, now, gentlemen, no crowding.
Please to register decently and in order;
and préparé tó have your baggage ex
amined.”
¡, “Baggage!” roared ah officer in my
front.' “Well, .that’s- Cool. Why, I
haven’t had my baggage since two min
utes after I fell into your hands.’ At
least;, once an hour since. then some
guard has gone through me,- And except
that six changed boots seven times and
hats fifteen, they’ve all been disap-
I pointed.” ■ . u.
< ”
/
A tall, black-bearded, piratical-look*
ing fellow,, wearing the chevrons of a
sergeant, leaped into the line of prison
ers and shouted/ with a coarse oath:
“Ordèr here! Get in line’!' Corné on
One at a time or thar’ll be trouble.”
“Yes, gents, one at a time and deceht-
ly and in order,” called out little Ross,
not at all' a bad fellow? as every old resi*
dent of Libby will confess.
Major Turner sat down and prepared
to write. He was about thirty-five years
of age, dressed in a fide feray nnifoiim,
which like its' wearerj had never Seen
service.in the field. He was of medium
height, slender; smooth-faced and with
light gray eyes,' and a:certain something
in 6is manner that denoted a culture,
even refinement.
■Turner must- have had the record ol
every Union officer present, yet he went
qVer all agÀin? and while hé Asked the
noxv véfy familiar questions.as to State,
regiment and rank/ Ross and Sergeant
Türné-r—“Black George”the men in pris
on Called' him; went through all -our’
pockets' and very few . bundles-. The
thoroughness With which this work had
been accomplished was shown by the
fact that on the whole twenty prisoners
present’ dot ode contraband article was
found?.
As. the men were examined they passed
up a rough wooden stairway to the see?
ond story, froin which came an- uproar
which I could not comprehend till I had
taken" thé Same way.
I can not think ft was design; but
certain it is I was the last man exam
ined. After I had' been searched and
answered th® usual question's; ifajor
Turner read over two sheets of letter
paper—they had evidently accompanied
the report of the; officer' who had turned
oVer the prisoners, and referred to hie,
for still holding them ill his slender,
white hands, he asked:
“Ain’t you a Kentuckian?”:
“I am,”-I.replied;
“You know one Captain Frank 'Breiif
of the Partisan Rangers?”
“Ido.”
.
’ '
“And. you know that he is now a pris
oner in the hands of your people?”
“I know all that.” ,
“And that he is cohdehnied io death?’’
“Yes.”
“You should know the latter, for you
are. responsible for it. I have a full ac
count, of your connection with that case
here. To-morrow I shall Cail the at
tention of General Winder and the
Government to:. it. , You may as well
know now, sir, that if a hair of Captain
Brent’s head is injured, you’ll die like a
dog. That's all; Ross/ send this man
up.”
The closing sentence of Turner’s
speech was addressed to the little man,
who at once took me in tow and led me
up the rqugli, white-washed stairs,
whither all the other prisoners had pre
ceded me; to the accompaniment of ever-
increasing shouts, .yells and stamping
from above.'
To bo Continued;
The following lines were found,
written on a shingle, near a new
building, in Rosendale, June, 1848.
The writer, Oscar L. Beach/ died
soon after of consumption, at Osh
kosh, Wisconsin:
On Carman’s hill, how calm and. sweet
The Sabbath sunshine seems to glow,
And shed Its radiance soft and deep
Upon tlie waving fields below.
How bright the beams on yonder grove.,
Rocked gently by the winning gale ;
Heaven .well pleased, looks from above
And sweetly smiles on Rosendale.
A Sabbath quiet seems to reign, [prayer.
Hushed is the hymn and bushed the
The shadow lengt hens on the plain
And sweeter sounds dwell on thè air.
Other Sabbath suns may set
And fling their gold along thè vale,
But not for me. with deep regret;
Facewell ! Farewell, sweet Rosendale.
Wm. Hunter, aged 22 years, was
drowned near the Columbia Slough
cemetery on the 10th. He went in
swimming with his underclothes on,
and it is supposed his drawers
slipped down, entangling his feet so
that he could not use them.
President Cel man, of t he Argen
tine Republic, presented his resigns
tion to a joint meeting of the Cham?
bers on the 5th.