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Some of those who escaped from prison have given me narratives of their adventures, some of which I will insert here.

November the 8th, Horatio W. Anderson, Wm. McGregor and myself, having made all the preparations for escaping that was possible, determined to delay no longer, and as the shadows of the pines grew longer and stretched far over the stockade, putting on hasty good-bye, we crept over the guard line and shaking from our feet the dust of the pen, shaped our course for the north star, with the intention of going to Fort Smith.

For ten hours we kept steadily on our course with an occasional alarm, and near morning stopped to conceal ourselves during the day. That long day came to an end at last, and at dusk we started on , coming to Sabine River bottom about ten o'clock. For two hours we struggled on through vines and tangled undergrowth finding it impossible to proceed, we thought to lie down but could not for the dense growth of shrubs and vines; however, we cleared a sufficient space with our hatchet to lie upon till morning, and the Sabine was reached by sunrise.

The country seemed so wild and unsettled we deemed it safe to travel by day, so continued on our way, seeing very many deer, as indeed we did on every day

of the trip, crossing many roads and streams and going around plantations. During the night it froze hard, but the day was pleasant and we traveled far. About ten o'clock coming to a small house away from any settlement apparently, we entered and found no one at home. The ringing sound of an axe in sturdy hands came to our ears from a hillside not two hundred yards distant, and from the kind and quantity of furniture as well as the condition of the cupboard, we thought he must be a bachelor; indeed we knew it, and knowing bachelors to be open-hearted (?) and generous, we did not wait his arrival but took what we chose, -- among other things a compass, that proved of great benefit to us afterward. Even in our hast to leave we had time to laugh at noticing among his few books, a small work on "Infant Baptism"

We then walked rapidly on till midnight. Resting till near morning, we started on and about noon found three girls chopping in the woods and asking of our whereabouts found we were not far distant from Mount Pleasant; being asked to go to the house for dinner, we went quite willingly. When they found who we really were they told us their father and brother were "laying out" to keep out of the army. After dinner going on five or six miles we saw a house at which we stopped for something to carry with us to eat.

The door step had hid itself away in the weeds, the well was stagnant and to the handle, idle for months, dangled a lazy rope, so rotten, the pail had broken away from it and fallen into the water. A little pale meek-eyed woman told us, pointing to a small corn cake, "that's all we have in the house," then added with tears in her eyes and voice "my John's pressed

into the army, and I don't know if he lives or not" and as I saw those little children, three of them, looking as the stillness of death had fallen on their spirits, I turned away, thinking as we walked along, of the many other sorrowful hearts in the land.

Some miles further on we entered a small house in a deep valley, and to our consternation, there sat three men, long haired and wild eyed, while leaning against the wall was their guns, to speak or even think, was impossible. Mechanically we stepped to the water bucket and each took a drink in silence, passing out as unceremoniously as we had entered. They were probably deserters, who were but too glad to remain unmolested themselves to hinder us, or be at all inquisitive. The following day we killed a pigeon and ate it raw, having no means of making fire.

About midday the country assumed the appearance of being more thickly settled, and soon we came to a prairie on the edge of which we saw a large house and went to it. The lady of the house welcomed us warmly saying "it's not often any of our brave boys come to our house," and we were forthwith honored guests, on the understanding that we were good Southern soldiers. After eating a substantial meal and hearing an exact history of each individual guest, present or absent, we went on our way rejoicing. The country began to grow more and more rough and before night we were on the hills.

The following day we stopped with like success at a house for our dinner. Sabbath, November 15th, we left our bed of leaves at 4 o'clock in the morning, and traveled till midnight, meeting with but two adventures to relieve the monotony of the route. Early in

the morning we stopped at a large house on the main road from Clarksville to Fort Towson, Indian Territory. At the former place a cavalry regiment was organizing and at the latter a large part of cooper's army lay.

We told the good 'Squire Jones we were returning to our commands in Cooper's army from furlough and while breakfast was preparing, we discuss a paragraph in a Clarksville paper relating the particulars of Gen. Blunt's death. Breakfasting deliberately, although we momentarily feared the arrival of some wandering trooper, we thanked the host and resumed our journey, thinking that day would bring us to Red River. Nearer evening, as we tramped through the woods in Indian file, I being in the advance, stepped out unexpectedly upon a well traveled road and saw within a hundred yards, two Confederate officers in full uniform with revolvers belted on, riding toward us, and they saw us; there was but one thing to do, we walked fearlessly on (to all outward seeming) crossing the road, which run east and west, and they reining in their horses watched us out of sight. This made us more careful, and urged us on, lest they put hounds on our track, if they had a suspicion of who we were.

Toward midnight we entered low well cultivated land, and after going some miles, concluded we were in Red River bottom, which was true. For over eight miles was one continuous cotton field with long rows of rail pens filled with the crop. The morning star rose, and fearing to travel in so thickly settled a country we climbed up into the highest cotton pen we could find, and rested in state, for in truth, King Cotton made a royal couch.

When morning dawned we beheld Red River about a mile north of us, and for miles on either side of our pen was one vast cotton field, but on the Indian Territory side could see the timber come to the waters edge. Through the day the plantation hands were at work at a gin so near by we could hear their talk and the overseer's harsh voice urging them on.

When darkness come we climbed down and went to the negro quarters for something to eat. They gave us all they had in the world--about a pound of corn bread, and gave us directions where to cross the river. Going to the river we missed the place, and after wandering up and down for some time, I tried to wade it, first taking off my clothes. The water was to my chin when not quite in the middle, and the main channel not yet reached, so as McGregor could not swim we abandoned the attempt for that night and sought rest and a hiding place in a cotton house, in which were several hundred bales of cotton, one of which we cut open and made a bed high up in the pile, as we feared they might discover us.

Toward evening getting hungry and half reckless (our last meal was the corn cake the night before,) we slipped out of the cotton house and going down the river a few rods to where a fence ran close by the bank we made a raft of rails, binding it together with ropes cut from cotton bales. The plantation belonged to Hugh Rogers, and is one of the largest on the Red River

Fearing the raft was not of sufficient tonnage to carry three safely, McGregor and I crossed first, McGregor acting both as pilot and propelling power, then he went back for Anderson, and by sunset we were in the Indian Nation, and after crossing the bottom land, which was not so wide as that on the Texas side, we came to high rolling open country, and felt comparatively safe for we were out of reach of the dogs.

About midnight we lay down and were lulled to sleep by the howling of wolves, and our slumbers were neither sound or unbroken. The next forenoon we traveled through a wild but beautiful country, and near ten o'clock came to an Indian village--Choctaw --and by signs made them know we were hungry, when they set out venison, sweet potatoes, curdled milk, and a kind of drink made from roots that had more of the flavor and aroma of Mocha than any imitation coffee I ever drank. Their houses were substantial one story hewn log structures, and very comfortable, the inside floored neatly and the air of half civilization was toned down by a cheap print of some missionary that hung on the walls, and a bible in their language lying on a stand. Seeing this, I took from my pocket a small Testament (a gift from my father, and the last relic--other than one picture that I had, of home, ) and by signs made them know it was the same. I fancied the woman's face wore a kindlier look,

After eating heartily we took our departure, not having seen any men around the village, although were were in but one house..

After we were a sufficient distance in the woods to have lost sight of the village, we turned to the north

again and were hardly three hundred yards from the road, when hearing the rapid steps of horses approaching, we lay down in the brush, and two Indians astride their lanky scrubby ponies, with rifles slung across their saddles came galloping past, looking closely on every side. We lay breathless till they had passed on, then arising hastened to put all possible space betwixt them and us.

In about an hour we came to a lake about a mile long and two hundred yards wide, with high hills all around. The water was clean as air and cold, and large rocks stood closely all through it, so close that seeking a place narrower than the others, we crossed by leaping from stone to stone. Near dark we succeeded in reaching the top of a mountain which towered high among the surrounding hills, like a giant among men, and on the loftiest knoll we laid our wearied forms to rest. Waking, we saw the rosy tint in the eastern sky and soon the sun rose, but to us was not visible, for below us hung clouds in the frosty air. For all the hours of that forenoon we toiled down the steep descent, loosening stones and clinging sometimes to bushes, till at last with bruised feet we stood in the valley.

That night we came to a line of fire reaching as far as eye could see out into the open pine forest on either side; the Indians were burning off their hunting grounds. Finding a weak place in the line we ran through it and lay down on the warmed and blackened ground.

Morning drew near and the sky was cloudy, by daylight the rain was falling fast, and then came the occasion for using our compass. All day it rained, and

as night drew on a cold north-west wind sprung up, the rain rushed down colder with such blinding force we dared not go forward over the rocky precipitous mountains. We could but wander aimlessly around to keep up circulation. Benumbed we are ready to lie down in despair, when the glimmer of fire afar off brought a glimmer of hope to our hearts. Pressing on we found the faintest blaze lingered on a pine log fired by the burning woods of the day before, but the drenching rain was fast putting it out when we happily found it. Our willing hands piled high the dry branches and soon a cheering blaze shot upward, and till long after midnight we turned before the fire cheering each other with home-talk. Then the rain ceasing we slept a few hours and morning came cool and clear.

Since crossing Red River we had eaten but one meal, and now each looked into the others face wondering if their own were so sunken and hollow. Near non we found a beaten path, and followed it coming to a comfortable log house, and on entering found no one there, but there was a library; history, classics, theology, and poetry, and what was infinitively more pleasant to us, we found in the cupboard honey and sweet potatoes, to which we helped ourselves freely. While eating, the man came in seeming some little surprised at our being so comfortably established in his house, but we soon explained. We learned his name was Fisk, a native Choctaw Missionary, who had received his education at Marietta, Ohio. He seemed sorry to see us appear so hungry, and when we told him who we were, said, "I am confederate, but I am a Christian, and I feed my enemies; I will not trouble you."

He was anxious to hear of many whom he had met in a tour through the east, and seemed much affected, when I told him of the death of Dr. Lyman Beecher. When departing, he told us our forces occupied Waldon, a point much closer than Fort Smith, and offered to put us on a trail leading there, riding over a mile on his pony to do it. We left the old man of country manners, an ascetic and eremite in that vast wilderness, a Christian gentleman who recognized in us brothers by the great Freemasonry of humanity. We parted from him sadly, feeling that--

That evening we passed through an Indian village of poles and bark, stopping only long enough to say "Aqua" and received a drink of purest coldest water in a gourd from the hands of a Squaw neatly habited in homespun. The next morning, about nine o'clock, the rough hilly districts were left behind, and the country once more assumed the long rolling swell with pine timber becoming sparser, and oak frequent. Near evening we saw a man working in a field, who told us he was Wm. Bryant, and as he was going to the house, we asked for supper, which he promised. Reaching the hose we found it to be a large farm building with many of the appliances of civilization.

He was a white man, who had married a Choctaw woman and accumulated a handsome property. He was a loyal man, and treated us kindly. His daughter, who prepared our supper was a shy handsome girl. I was quite at a loss which was most beautiful,

her eyes, or those of a timid fawn that caressingly licked my hand and looked up in my face with such soul-like eyes.

The setting sun glowed upon the tree tops and made the shades settle deeper and darker on the clear beautiful stream that murmured before the door. That scene will never fade from my mind as one of the most beautiful of my life.

Walking on till eleven o'clock in an easterly direction, we stopped at a small house, from which about half the things had been removed. Taking possession of the premises, we killed a fat pig and rifled a bee hive, having for our suppers fried pork and honey. A feather bed that had not been removed, we put down before the fire and laying down upon it, we slept till three o'clock in the morning, when we started on, we passed through a camp of some kind, and soon crossed the Arkansas line. After sunrise as we seemed drawing near to settlements, I wrote a pass (McGregor had pen, ink and paper,) and signed Gen Steel's name to it, C. S. A., and armed with this we took the State road, traveling rapidly till nine o'clock, when we stopped for breakfast at Judge Nichols, where they told us our cavalry had eaten supper the night before, so we felt at home. While eating in the kitchen, Mrs. Nichols stepped to the front door and said: "Here comes some of your boys now," I arose and going to the window, llooke dount, seeing three soldiers in full federal uniform which satisfied me of their being our friends; but hardly had I resumed my seat ehwn Mrs. Nichols cried out in alarm that some bushwhackers were coming, and our boys and they would fight there; but from teh friendly greeing that passed

them in the road we knew that they were not at enmity. They entered the house, sitting around on chairs, beds and table promiscuously, with host guns and squirrel rifles. We could hear their rough talk from the kitchen, and trembled at our probable fate, but the crisis had to come, so putting on an unconscious look, we arose from the table and entered the room. To meet the curious gazed of ten or twelve pair of eyes peering from out the hairy faces of roughly dressed men, without flinching or changing color, was the task successfully accomplished. When one at last ventured to ask us who we were, I as spokesman answered, we were paroled Federal prisoners sent through to our lines by Gen. Steele, whose army lay in or near that part of the country we had passed over. Then one of them who plainly prided himself on his shrewdness and knowledge of business said, "you'd orter heve a showin or paper" "certainly" said I, drawing forth the pass and handing it to him. He took the slip of paper gingerly betwixt his thumb and forefinger, using it as though momentarily looking for it to evaporate, and turning to a small sharp-eyed red headed man said, "Judge, you're more a skollard (sic) than we, read this," and judge accordingly read it aloud pronouncing it "all squar," which verdict being echoed by the others a mountain lifted itself from my heart. Not to seem hurried, we sat a half hour, promising to "jog along a but further fore night," which promise we conscientiously kept.

About two hours rapid walking brought us to a broad clear stream where we found no way of crossing; just opposite lay a canoe, and while we stood debating our best method of procedure a half-breed In-

dian girl came down the road to the canoe. We called out to her and motioned to her to cross to us, she stepped in the small shell, and standing up near the center with a few skillful strokes brought it to us. She stood quiet till we were seated, then she propelled the canoe with a gliding motion over as lovely a stream as I ever beheld, Mountain Fork. walking on with only a halt for supper at a house, ten o'clock found us near Fort Smith , and no sign of any more guerrillas. Here Anderson had a chill, caused by exposure during the tramp, and we stopped at the first house with him.

The people received us kindly; we told them who we were, and they got us something to eat; while sitting by the fire, talking over the war, the clatter of iron hoofs was heard and in a minute the two doors were opened at once admitting three roughly clad brutal looking men each with a drawn revolver. Of course we surrendered, and were at once subjected to a searching ordeal of questions to determine if we were all right, but with the aid of our forged pass we satisfied all of the party but one, who knew too much, and he had us taken back six miles to a house to find their Captain to see what disposition to make of us. During that midnight tramp, Cook several times promised us he would see to it, that our blood and bones enriched Arkansas soil. Reaching the house the Captain was not found, so we were allowed the privilege of lying, on the floor before the fire, which was a comfort we enjoyed.

After a substantial breakfast that differed only in coffee from farmers fare at the north, we left, following a devious and untraveled track, round hills, and

through broken hollows, till at last through the avenue of trees a dim smoke curling upward, marked the camp of the wild men. The throng of men around the fire opened as we drew near with our captors, and stared at us with rude surprise. They never took a Federal prisoner farther than a convenient spot for killing.

In the motley crowd that assailed us with questions were white haired old men and smooth-faced ruddy cheeked boys, half-breed Choctaws, with wide mouth and little glittering eyes; men clad in beaded buckskin, butternut homespun, and stolen broadcloth. Lying around were saddles, bridles, guns, sabers, and all the paraphernalia of camp life. Until this time the hope had lingered that i might impose the pass on the guerrilla captain, but seeing him dissipated that hope. His name was J. B. Williamson, a lawyer of some repute in Kentucky, and a man of pleasing appearance and engaging address, so I wisely refrained from the attempt to prevaricate longer. The morning of the 23d of November, we were taken into their camp and were with them till Dec. 6th, when we were sent to Washington, Ark.

While with the bush-hackers we lived well; fresh beef, port and mutton all the time, flour, corn-meal, and hominy.

Anderson continues so sick he could not get around, so they spared themselves the trouble of a guard over us, by threatening him with death if either of us run away, --a threat they would have kept most religiously, for while with them we were frequently waked at night by squads returning from depredations, and heard their heartless jests at the remembered death agony of some poor victim.

One day having become somewhat acquainted with one of the most pleasant men in the band --Geo. Winton, Anderson asked him if he would bring him a book from his father's house, (their friends all lived in the immediate vicinity,) he said: "Thar ar a book thar, a big one at that, --Holy! Holy Bible, or some sich name as that," and this sheer honest ignorance.

They robbed indiscriminately and were thought a nuisance by the regular Confederate soldiers.

In a circuit of ten miles they told us there were over four hundred, and I felt disposed to credit it, for I saw many of them. Quarrels agitated the different small bands constantly.

One day while moving camp, a thing that was done at least every other day, their wagon fell a little behind, and some of Glass's company took a saddle out of it belonging to one Newsome, who was of an irate disposition. He on the arrival of the wagon in camp, missing his saddle and learning in whose hands it was, borrowed another to use on his horse to go after his own, and rode out of camp breathing vengeance dire and speedy against the offenders.

After being absent till after noon the next day, Newsome came sneaking into camp crest-fallen, having had his horse and borrowed saddle taken by the brother robbers. Much sport was made of Newsome, but the loss was felt by them for the horse was the fleetest in the band. Several times we had alarms, and we told the men if the Feds come we hope the Feds would whip, but if any other company of whackers come we would help what little we could.

One afternoon two more prisoners were brought in -- citizens- an old man and his son. James M. Still

of Indiana and his son Reeves Still, had come to Fort Smith to try and visit Mrs. Dotson, a daughter of Mr. Still, that was living outside or lines, and while at house they were caught by some of our gang. It seemed he had been talking plain English to them in response to their queries as to his status on the war, for they were in a very ill humor. The fact that he had lived in Texas, operated strongly against him. For one who had enjoyed the benefit of even a few years protection under Texas law to be a black abolitionist, showed a degree of human depravity and ingratitude deplorable to think of.

The bush-whackers gathered around him with angry faces and bitter words, till having talked and swore their courage up to the sticking point, they led him off into the woods with a rope around his neck and a gun cocked at his breast. He was told if he would not go before his God with a lie in his mouth, to answer their questions truly or renounce his loyalty to a nigger-loving Government, but the fear of death was not so strong as the fear of dishonor, and the old man was firm. At length some of them becoming ashamed of their unmanly work, had him brought back into camp, and when we were sent to Washington, he and his son went along.

He is now living in Iowa, having made good his escape from Washington jail when under sentence of death as a spy, leaving his son who was sick and unable to accompany him.

The 6th of December the bushwhackers started us to Washington, Arkansas, to turn us over to the authorities there. for they had communication with the military authorities and drew ammunition of the Con-

The 6th and 7th we had a long and muddy tramp, -- seventy miles, and the next day were lodged in the upper story of the county jail, a strong double log building with four windows in the room, having no glass or sash, but heavy iron bars across and up and down, leaving between, spaces about eight inches square. The room was eighteen by thirty feet, and in it were over sixty men, some of them having been in that room for months without a change of clothing.

Men were confined there for horse-stealing, mutiny in the army, murder, and every other crime, --Christians, Indians, Half-breeds; men stooped in age, and boys of fourteen, old river gamblers, and now were added to them "Yanks" and the gray-haired Still and son, who were worse than Yanks.

As I wish to maintain my character as at least resembling a truthful man, I will not attempt a full description of the filthy barbarities inflicted at this place. To try to describe the place would be folly.

At night not all of the inmates could rest at once on the literally creeping floor, and through the day, one man at a time was taken out by the slow-paced guard, and never did they get around in the same day. There were men who had not washed their faces for weeks. To get drinking water was almost impossible; happily I had formed a habit of doing comparatively without drinking.

Each morning from twelve to fifteen pounds of coarse musty corn meal and a very small quarter of beef, invariably fore quarter, ) was passed out to us, with the privilege of cooking it in a broken skillet and a small

iron pot, that held probably five or six quarts, over a little smoky fireplace in a corner of our room. To get the food cooked, the vessels must be used day and night, keeping the room full of smoke, till our eyes grew red and sore.

To think of escape from this place was worse than futile, for not only was the jail in the center of a town of about two thousand inhabitants with soldiers camped around, the windows all strongly barred, and men inside with us who would inform of any attempt of the "Yanks" to get away, and on each side of the building paced a sentinel day and night

Yet escape was talked of, and when our relief stayed up at night that the others might sleep, a large knife made its appearance from the leg of my boot, and worked away very industriously, cutting through a log upon which rested one of the perpendicular bars, and after each night's work scraping dust and dirt and chips into the opening, covering the whole with ashes.

At length one night the busy knife found the last chip removed, and the iron upright bar slid down the thickness of the log that had been cut off; leaving the aperture at the top of the window eight by sixteen inches. To obtain a rope was not very difficult under pretence, to a better natured guard than usual, that is was to start some amusement with us and now we only waited for a dark night, but the weather was never clearer. The moon never seemed so perverse in its brightness, and for three nights we watched and waited in vain. We had made the acquaintance of two men who had agreed to accompany us, one was Anthony O. Johnson of Little Rook, son of Judge Johnson, Attorney General of the State of Arkansas.,

and Wm. Greer, who had been taken from his home twenty-five miles east of Washington and put in jail to meditate over the evil of "laying out" to keep out of the Southern army. He was a quiet man, mild in his language and effeminate in his looks, Johnson on the contrary, was a boasting reckless kind of fellow but both proved themselves every inch men.

On Christmas Eve., having grown weary and impatient waiting for a cloudy night, Johnson said he was willing to go if the rest were, so taking the rope I made it fast to one of the bars, letting the loosened bar slide from its proper place easily as possible and dropping the rope, at length was ready to make the attempt, midnight was near at hand, and the bitterest rebels were asleep on the filthy floor, when casting an anxious look toward the guard, I saw he had been joined by an acquaintance, and stood talking with him at a smouldering fire about thirty feet from the pot beneath the window. But the time had come, and cautiously I slipped through the bars, letting myself down steadily, the moon seeming to dazzle my eyes with brightness. I reached the ground, stood quiet a moment, hearing the low murmur of the guard' voices, then walked slowly away, my footsteps muffled in the sandy soil and stopped about one hundred feet away, in the shadow of a house.

Anderson, Greer, McGregor are down and with me. We hear a disturbance in the jail, Johnson drops quick as lightning, making a noise, and we run for it. It was a race through a town full of patrols who thinking us some of themselves on a "spree" favored us and we made the woods near town, ahead of our pursuers, but one shot being fired. We had hardly

gained eh cover of the wood, when clouds obscured the sky, and Egyptian darkness prevailed through that night, and we followed silently through the gloom Greer who was guiding us to his home.

The next forenoon crossing Prairie d'Ann, we were discovered by two cavalry men, but were so near the dense, pursuit was out of the question. That night we got to Greer's house, and while we lay outside, he crawled up to his own home as a thief, and after a careful survey of the premises went in but almost immediately returning with a brand of fire and an armful of quilts. Going a mile from the house were were in a place inaccessible to any one not perfectly acquainted with the locality. This was on Little Missouri river bottom.

Here we had a fire and soon Mrs. Greer brought us a warm supper. I never relished any as I did that. We had come by Greer's house more especially to get horses, and on the next day we busied ourselves catching some. The bottom was full of young horses that had run in it since the war commenced.

Greer was taken suddenly ill with fever, and the second night the rain began falling heavily and steadily, we were on an island (containing about three acres) formed by a bayou from the river. Greer's fever rose until he was delirious, and as the night advanced, the rain fell harder, and the waters rose rapidly till the island was partly covered, and in the darkness by the flashes of lightning we could see the water drawing near to us, crawling slowly, but surely about us. Nearer and nearer drew the pitiless black tide, not rushing and roaring as did the river one hundred

yards away, but creeping, stealing, gliding, toward us and our sick charge. We piled up sticks and bark placing all the folded quilts under Greer, and with anxious hearts watched the rising water heedless of the falling torrents. Knee deep we stood and the rain ceased, it rose no higher, and we were safe; but the hours were weary standing in the water waiting for daybreak.

Day did come, though, but no breakfast, no dinner. Toward evening, Johnson started a fire (the waters having run off rapidly) with a flint and by climbing trees for dead limbs. McGregor by a strategic movement got near enough a fat young cow to lass her; we killed and cut her up with a hatchet and had beef raw, beef roasted, beef boiled and beef alone.

Greer's health improved so much that by New Year's Eve we started for Little Rock, being mounted on the choicest animals we could find from near two hundred. That was a wild ride, through a part of country patrolled unceasingly by the rebel cavalry--infested with guerrillas. Swimming swollen streams, turning off the road to avoid scouts, and running swift races at times for our liberty, we were overtaken by a snow storm that soon covered the ground three or four inches. deep.

Nine o'clock New years night found us within a few miles of our pickets, and so nearly frozen to death, we stopped at a house careless of the result.

Once by a warm fire, irresistible drowsiness overwhelmed us, and we stayed all night. Early the following morning a scout of twenty-two rebels surrounded the house, took us, tied us two and two, and back to Camden we rode through the cold. At Cam-

den, (one hundred and twenty-five miles form Little Rock,) we were put to work as scavengers, and I refused to work.

Being reported by a guard to Col. E. E. Portlock, Jr., commanding the Post of Camden, he ordered his Post Adjutant to handcuff me, which he did roughly and passing a rope under the steel band, he swung me up by the wrists clear of the ground, striking me with his cane, and saying: "that's the way we break our niggers, and that's the way we'll break all such damned nigger-loving--------" with much else too low to bear repetition. Leaving me with the consoling assurance that there I should hang till I worked or died, of which after pondering over about an hour, and getting faint and sick, I chose the work. the remainder of the time w were at Camden, the Federal prisoners were made to husk, shell and sacked corn for their army, carry railroad iron for fortifications and much other hard work. The latter part of January, we were taken to Shreveport with several others, among them were James M. Ross, son of the Cherokee Chief, John Ross, and Benjamin Alsup, formerly Judge of Howell county, Missouri. Judge Alsup had been in the Little Rock penitentiary, previous to the occupation of that city by our troops, and had been cruelly treated, even whipped - he a loyal American citizen--a white haired man! Yes! pardon our erring brothers.

At Shreveport we were shut up in an old brick wareroom with a brick floor and no windows. Not light enough came through the dusty panes above the door to enable us to wage successful war against "Greybacks".

Here we lay through cold damp days and long sleepless nights, eating the pittance of coarse half-cooked corn cake and beef without salt, until the last of March, when we were taken to the rest of the prisoners, who were on their way to Tyler, Texas. H. W. Anderson escaped from Shreveport the last of February, and after a hard an d perilous trip, when the waters covered the whole face of the country, he reached Natchez.

A narrative of the escape from rebel prison at Shreveport, La., on the 23rd night of February 1864, of John Cary, a member of the 94th Ills. Infantry, and Levi B. Cocklin and L. Stone Hall, of Co. C. 19th Iowa Infantry.

When I had made up my mind that I had staid with the rebels and endured their cruel treatment long enough, I sought for comrades those whom I know to be brave and resolute men, for I knew that such an acquisition was essentially necessary to success.

Two better men could not have been found in the service than were Cocklin and Cary. Cary was accustomed to frontier life, and could not be lost in any swamp or forrest, when the sky was clear. Hence, in the organization of our party he was chosen guide. Cocklin and I were to procure food.

It was very necessary that our project should be kept secret, which was quite difficult, from the fact we had rations to get, and clothes to make and mend; we were successful however, until a few hours before we left, when we commenced baking our corn dodgers, our associates guessed our intentions, and were very kind, rendering us material aid by giving us their own rations.

At last all was ready and each h our seemed a day till we were on our way. It was hard to leave those brave fellows who had shared in common with us every hardship and privation of our prison life, and who

were as anxious as ourselves to return to our lines. Many more would have attempted to escape if they had had clothes and shoes. Many of them sent messages to their friends at home, which we gladly promised to deliver if successful.

Finally the sun sank behind the forrest pines, and ere its last flickering ray of light ceased to play upon the western sky, we had taken leave of our comrades (and received many a God bless you,) and were safely outside the guard line, and with a light heart and lighter step, we were rapidly widening th4e distance between us and our rebel guards

It was half a mile or more to the timber; when we had reached it we halted to put on our shoes; we had carried them in our hands to prevent any unnecessary noise. By this time the moon had risen, the stars shone soft and bright, and night's stillness was broken only by the zephyrs as they played through those grand old pines. We were in high spirits at our successful beginning, and I think truly grateful to Him who had guided and guarded our steps. We decided to go south, and when it was necessary to change our course to bear to the west. After a moment's rest we moved cautiously forward, determined to go slowly and surely; for hours we traveled undisturbed, avoiding every road and path that had been traveled lately. We were finally halted by an impassable swamp, and were obliged to retrace our steps for miles; this was not so elating as some things I might easily mention; we were prepared however, for such reverses, for we knew our road was a hard one to travel. A crossing place was finally found by wading. This was a cooler too. We must have traveled twenty-five miles before we camp

ed. O, how tired and sleepy we got; our five days rations bore heavily across our shoulders.

About three A.M. we stopped, made a bed of pine boughs and reposed upon it with glader hearts than we had possessed for months. In a few minutes each of us was sleeping quietly, and when I wakened it was nearly mid-day, the son shone beautifully bright, the trees were peopled with many sweet songsters who seemed to congratulate us in our anticipations and happiness, --really, we felt happy. The air we breathed was pure,---there were no rebel guards standing around with fixed bayonets, watching every motion,--neither were the sounds which greeted ears those threats and curses which we had been obliged to listen to so long. We did not see hundreds of brave men half fed and clothed, living, or rather enduring an existence almost hopeless, in want and filth. The change was perfect, the spell was sublime.

We kept quiet that day, neither moved about much nor spoke above a whisper, for we were near a residence. We were anxious to have night come so we could take up our line of march, for we dared not to expose ourselves through the day.

The two succeeding nights we got along finely, our path was in teh rear of the plantations leading to Mansfield and Nathetoches. The fourth day from camp we ventured to travel some.

On the 28th, we were weather-bound, it became so cloudy we could not keep our course. We anticipated rain, and prepared for it as well as we could. We made a bed of leaves, over it stretched a blanket. For two nights and one day we laid in our nest of leaves, during which time it rained constantly. Before the

first morning the water was running under u s. It was impossible to better our condition, unless we went to a house--this we determined not to do. So for over twenty-four hours we laid in the water, there not being a dry thread on us. Truly I believe we suffered more during that time than we would, had the weather been cold enough to freeze us to death.

On the morning of the 30th it stopped raining, still it was cloudy, so we could not keep our course with any certainty; but we were so chilled and exhausted with cold, we had to exercise. About noon the sun shone clearly again. We made good time after that, and got along finely until our rations were gone. This gave us new anxiety, for we knew there was danger in stopping at houses; but we must have something to eat, and coming to a small farm house, Cocklin resolved to go in, Cary and I were secreted in the brush a few hundred yards distant from the house, and with anxious hearts waited his return. On entering the house he found the farmer and lady at home; also a rebel officer who was stopping for the night with them. He made known his wants, which excited their curiosity. So much that they asked him who he was and where he was from. Cocklin saw that the officer was a shrewd fellow, and thought his best plan was to tell the truth. The officer told him that it was his duty to arrest him. Cocklin replied rather coolly that it might be his duty but that he might have some trouble doing so. This did not intimidate Johnny any. So Cocklin appealed to his honor, and asked him to do by him as he would like to be done by, if he was in a like position. They discussed the matter nearly three hours, and Cocklin finally won his suit. The reb

told him that he would not molest him, and that if he was arrested to make another eloquent appeal as he had to him and his captor would surely release him. The farmer said he would forfeit his life by giving him food, and that he dared not do it. The rebel said he would report him if he did. The lady had more courage and sympathy and met C. at the gate with a dish of corn bread, meat and gravy and a bottle of syrup, and wished him well. Just then the officer came to the door and said, federal, I advise you as a friend to avoid all roads, for we have scouting parties out all the time.

The hours seemed long, that we waited his return, for we were hungry, tired and anxious about his safety. And I knew when we saw his approach through the darkness and brush we were a happy set again. All the food he got would not make either of us feel satisfied. Still we saved some for our breakfast..

Cocklin thought it not safe to stay there that night, and notwithstanding the rebel advised us not to , we traveled in the road, for it was too dark to go in the woods, and the road ran in our course. We had not gone more than five miles when we discovered a camp fire ahead. We approached carefully, could hear no noise nor see any one, yet we were afraid and tried to go around it; but the brush was so thick we gave it up and determined to keep the road. We discovered no one until opposite the fire, then we saw three confederate soldiers asleep by it. We stepped lightly till out of hearing then we left the road. After this, we kept our Johnny friend's advice as long as we could.

The next afternoon I tried my fortune at getting food. Where I went in, I found a lady with half a dozen

or more children, yet so different were they from the poor whites generally in the South, that I will speak more particularly of them than I otherwise should. Their home was a cabin roughly made, and undaubed. A log fire-place occupied one end of the house, a rail fence enclosed it, and the whole experience was that of hard times; but during all my experience as a soldier, I saw no house and yard kept more tidy, nor a family more cleanly dressed; everything was in perfect order. I soon learned that the lady's husband was in the rebel service, and that she had not heard from him for over a year.

I told her I was a soldier and was going home, had got out of money and wanted something to eat. She gave me a good dinner of corn bread and bacon. While eating it I told her I had a fine comb that I, would like to trade her for bread and meat. She gave me two loaves and a nice piece of meat, so I went back to the boys feeling quite rich. On this we subsisted four days. The country through which we traveled was a most beautiful pinery, and the home of innumerable droves of deer and other wild game; it was the divide between Red and Sabine Rivers. But we came to an end of this up-land the same day that our rations run out, and before us lay stretched out for a hundred miles the great swamps.

We were ignorant of this however, and spent half a day trying to cross. Several times we went out into these swamps until our only way of crossing was to jump from one root to another. We tried several times to find bottom by running a long pole down, but our search for it and a way across were equally useless. At night we camped where we rested at noon,

tired, hungry, and a little down in the mouth. It was not long till all were asleep, and I was at home in mother's buttery, eating custard pies. Was not that a sweet dream.

We were rested some by morning, yet we were weak and faint. I felt alarmed when I looked into the faces of my comrades.

Our first business was to obtain food and find out where we were. We traveled several hours before we saw or heard any signs of civilization. Finally, we heard a cock crow, and went in that direction; it led us out to a small plantation. We had avoided such places before, but this seemed our only chance. It was my turn to go in. I borrowed a rebel hat and blouse of Cocklin, expecting to pass myself for a Confederate soldier, but as I entered the porch of the mansion I heard some one cry out, "I'd like to know what you all is g'wan up in dar for? Looking back to the negro quarters, I saw a fat old wench, but thinking best not to mind her, I started for the door; again she called as before. By this time a very old black-man came out of another cabin; I asked him if there were nay white folks about. He answered with all the dignity peculiar to their race: "No sar, I am de boss of dis plantation." I went to him and told him I wanted to go into his cabin and talk with him. I was anxious to keep out of sight, for we were on a road traveled a great deal by the Johnnies.

I found out in a few moments that they lived their alone. Their master gave them their freedom when he died. I told my story and what I wanted. Their sympathy was gained and my parents could not have treated me more kindly than they did. The best

they had was freely given. A warm breakfast was quickly prepared, and most assuredly I felt that it was good for me to be there. I told them of my comrades and they gave me a loaf of warm corn bread, some dried beef, sweet cake and molasses to take to them. I engaged too, two loaves of bread, more beef and alot of parched corn to carry along.

I found the boys very anxious about me: I had been gone a good while, but when I opened my haversack their fears quickly subsided. Twas a satisfaction to see those brave fellows eat. New h ope inspired them when I told them I had found friends, and had engaged food to carry along sufficient for two days.

After breakfast, we moved up nearer the house to a safer place, then I went in again and got the old negro to come out and tell us about he country. He said we were within thirteen miles of Chainyville, that we would have to wait till night and travel in the road, for the swamp was impassable. We had been through Chainyville, on our way to Tyler, and knew the country to very swampy, so we followed the old man's advice and laid by until night.

As soon as it was dark we pursued our course, but not without an opportunity of using all the caution and judgment we possessed. We ahd not gone far till we ran into a commissary train. To turn back we thought would expose us more than to boldly go ahead. I don't think we were seen by the men; but we met a lady a few rods beyond the train, and in a few minutes after we heard the hounds baying like so many wolves. We thought she had report us, and

that the hounds were on our track. If boys ever made good time we did for about five miles. About 3 o'clock, A.M, we turned off into the swamps and laid low during the day. The next night we had gone but a short distance when we discovered a large camp fire right on our road. We went near enough to hear them talk and laugh, then went around the camp, coming back into the road again between the camp and the picket post. We did not discover our condition until within a few yards of the picket fire, and a serious time we had. The Palmetto was as high as our shoulders and woven together by briars. We came the nearest getting lost here that we ever did.

Before morning, we came to another camp. The fires extended for miles, or as far as we could see. Again we had to leave the road. After this we thought it safer to leave the roads and travel in the swamps by daylight. This was rough; but we preferred the company of Aligators (sic) and serpents to traitors.

Again we were out of rations. We were in a settlement of French, Indians and Creoles, and it was useless to try to get anything of them--it was tow days before we obtained anything--then we got corn only, a less resolute man than C. would not have got that. That afternoone we came out to a very large plantation, and secreted ourselves as near the mansion and quarters as possible. After night C. went into the quarters and tried to get something of the negroes. They were frightened and told him they had nothing for him, and he had better leave, for the overseer came around twice every night to see if all was quiet. He inquired for corn. They told him it was all locked up

and that there were cross dogs about and he could not get any. He succeeded in getting to the cribs and in getting some corn. He brought fifteen ears, and that was all we had for nine days save a wild duck, which we ate raw and without salt.

Our march through the swamps was very tedious--in water most of the time from ankle to waist deep, yet we felt safe. We could not be tracked even by dogs, It was a good time to think of home and its comforts when we had marched hard all day on corn, and had lain down by some muddy bayou for the night which was full of alligators, who sung bas sin the grand requium (sic) discoursed to us nightly by a host of mosquitoes We came to the Atchafalaya river in the morning, and were delayed till night before we dared to attempt to cross. Then we made a raft of logs bound together with vines, and at the still hour of midnight we paddled in safety to the opposite shore.

The following day, (Sunday, March 13th) we arrived at the old channel of the Mississippi, and felt that we had got most home, not knowing that there were two channels, and that the other one was navigated almost exclusively. You can imagine our disappointment when we had waited in vain two long cold and dreary days and nights for a boat to rescue us from our danger and suffering. We could hear the whistle of boats, even see the smoke, and yet none came our way. We suffered most intensely with cold and hunger, and during our waiting here, we eat a raw duck. We tried to kindle a fire by rubbing two pieces of wood together, and succeeded in making a smoke, but were so nearly exhausted that our strength failed us every time before the wood ignited. Tuesday

night we got so weak we dared not go longer without food and fire. We dreaded to go to a house, for there was more danger here than inany place on our march and to be recaptured in sight of the "promised land" we should have dreaded almost like death, yet there seemed no choice for us

It was my turn to go in, and I assure you that it was with a good many misgivings that I approached the house of an old planter and entered and made known my wants. I found Mr. S__ and his lady sitting by a bright pine-know fire. I thought of passing myself for a rebel but when I asked for food he looked at me with a keen, searching eye that seemed to read my character, and to try to deceive him seemed like foolishness. So, when he asked me who I was I told I was a Federal soldier, had been taken prisoner and was making my escape, and hoped he would favor me. He gave me a seat at the fire, and after questioning me to his satisfaction, told me he would do me no harm. His kindhearted lady ordered the servants to get me supper, and began to feel quite at ease. After learning where I was from, he says: "Stranger you have not come all this way alone, and where are your comrades?"

I avoided answering till he told me he was neutral on the war question, and that if I had friends to bring them in and we should all have super; then he would direct us to a gunboat lying within a mile and a half of there. Again he promised us n o harm. I could ask no more, and went to the boys who were hid in the brush, and told them our prospects.

We had been seated around the fire but a few minutes, when some one hallooed outside at the gate. Mr.

S. went out and we thought at first that we were trapped and were about to go out the back door when he came in and said there were three rebel soldiers come to stay all night, and we must go into the back yard and wait till he brought them into the house, then he would come to us again. We did as he said, and in due time we were eating a good supper in one of the negro quarters and the lady waited on us. God bless her is my prayer. When we had demolished all the corn bread and bacon cooked, we called for Mr. S. again. She told one of the servants to go in and tell master that misses wants to see him. He came and told us to go one at a time to his shop several rods from the house and he would meet us there. We did so, and not long to wait his arrival. His first words were, "boys you are all right now."

He was anxious to talk with us; told how he had been treated by the rebels, said he cold take the oath of allegiance any day, but he would not until his property could be protected; told us of men who had taken the oath and were daily aiding the rebels. We found out too that those men who came to stay with him belonged to Gen. Lee's army, and had come to cross the river that night on a secret ferry, but the gunboat was so near they could not, and were waiting a better opportunity. We learned also the man's name who ran the ferry, and that he had taken the oath of allegiance.

Mr. S's. plantation extended the river, and he had a wood yard there and a house for his overseer that was unoccupied. he advised us to stay there until morning . We did so, and shortly after day-light we saw our boat. Cary fastened his coat to a pole and

signaled to it. We waited but a few minutes till we saw a cutter lowered and an armed crew coming for us. I will not try to describe our feelings as we stepped on the deck of that "Linkcum gunboat." Once more we were free.

Had we been at home we could not have been treated more kindly than we were by those brave officers and men. No pains were spared to make us comfortable. Breakfast was quickly prepared, and you may believe we relished Uncle Sam's coffee and hard tack.

After breakfast we were invited into the cabin and asked to tell of our prison life and escape. While doing so we were loaded down with the best of clothing. I presume what they gave us was worth two hundred dollars.

All of those who have been prisoners of war can appreciate our feelings when we had washed and dressed in clean good clothes.

As soon as we were ready, paper was given us to write home. After we were through writing, Captain Morgan invited us into his own room, and we told him of these men who wanted to cross the ferry; and who it was that ran the ferry. He could hardly believe it. He said that man had been on his boat several times, and they had let him have coffee, sugar and flour &c. That night they captured the Johnny's boat and were so near upon them that they left all they had with the boat. They got a large mail, a large trunk full of officers' clothing, a nice buggy and revolver. The next morning they went ashore and captured the ferrymen. There were three of them and one was the man Mr. S. named. We were twenty-two days making our escape and traveled four hundred miles. Came to the

Mississippi about half way between Morganzia and the mouth of Red river on the 16th day of March. We joined our regiments at Brownsville, Texas, April 15th feeling well and as if we were at home again.

"On the night of the 19th of February, 1864, he on company with one W. T. Lyons, who professed to belong to the 2nd Kansas cavalry, escaped from the camp near Shreveport, having stinted themselves to the utmost for some time to lay in sufficient provisions. They traveled every night, and lay concealed each day till the 22nd. Near morning, about 2 o'clock A.M. they heard the baying of hounds on their track and being closely pressed, went to the nearest stable, taking out a horse apiece; but could still hear the dogs till after dark the 22nd, when they out traveled them and heard them no more. The night of the 24th having ridden from the time they had taken the horses, without sleep. They lay down and on awaking the horses were gone, no trace of them being found.

Continuing their journey, afoot they presently came to a place where Lyons had once lived, and stayed there several days enjoying clandestinely the hospitality of the people. One night he rebel soldiers had a party in the vicinity, and whilst basking in the smiles of Dixie's daughters, our two heroes entered the stable yard, selected the two finest animals and rode away through the darkness. The rain began falling and froze as it fell. They lost the road, and riding through the dense brush for hours, they got sleepy and would

ride along in a half unconscious state when a sleet-covered limb stark and cold would rake across their faces bringing them back to rain and cold. They rode hard for many days, not keeping in any direct course long enough to reach our lines. Power and Lyons parted company; as it turned out Lyons had never belonged to our Army.

Power continued his travels alone, sometimes a foot sometimes horseback, till the 24th of March, being hard pressed by the hounds and his horse giving out, he was overtaken by the man hunters and returned to camp Ford, Texas, whither the prisoners had been taken during the time he was running at large. The guards that caught him did not ill treat him in any way, and Power was exchanged with the regiment, July 22d, 1864

The 14th of August 1864, our regiment, except the three companies at Brazos, went aboard the small gulf steamer Josephine, and after a smooth and pleasant ride landed at Fort Barrancas, Fla., which is just inside the entrance of Pensacola Bay. Opposite the heavy gray stone battlements of Pickens, frowned in sullen loneliness, and for miles around us were swamps filled with trees from the limbs of which swung thousands of pendant vines, evergreens, and mosses, -- the moss ever present in the south known as Spanish Moss or Death's Banner, hangs flaunting in the shade, while life and death seem locked in close embrace, as gorgeous-hued, budding flowers spring from the rotting debris of former vegetation.

Here, our camp was near the beach and in the white sand. Gen. Asboth was in command of the District of West Florida, afterward Gen. Joseph Bailey, who was breveted for building the Red River Dam, and afterward, Gen McKean of Iowa.

While here, we made frequent expeditions up the various bays and inlets, bringing away logs or brick. The Blackwater and Escambia Bays were most visited.

In these incursions we never lost but one man in action, -- Rufus E. Collins, Co. "I", and one drowned, -- John J. McIntosh, of Co. "H", whose body was recovered.

On one of these trips a large raft of logs had been collected and was ready to be poled out to the steamer, (that could not come nearer than a half mile on ac-

count of shallow water,) when a force of rebels suddenly burst from the woods and attacked them, when L. Smiley and Luke Osborne of Co. "C" and two others, not known, getting the rat, took leave as quickly as they had come.

The regiment had more comfortable quarters at Barrancas than ever before or since. The 5th of December 1864, teh gulf steamer Alabama took us aboard in a rain, and we were taken over a rough sea to Fort Gains. From here an expedition went up to Pascagoula, Miss. under Gen Granger, in person, and in which we participated. The cavalry fought each day, and we were in line very often, sometimes charging toward an enemy that as often was not there.

Our greatest source of trouble was the smoke from the ppine wood that blackened faces and clothes till we were not distinguishable from a regiment of C. D. A, camped near by. Without a change of clothes for over a month the expedient would have been adopted of lying in bed while washing, only there were no beds! so the clothes went unwashed, for January even in lower Mississippi, is rather cool for nature's simplicity.

At last the object of the expedition seemed to have been accomplished, for we returned to Fort Gaines, where was clean clothes, mail and oysters. The oysters we got here were excellent, and very abundant. Along the shore many beautiful sea-shells were found, and from the gulf we caught what fish we could use.

The latter part of February, troops began to gather on Dauphine Island and on the main land opposite Mobile Point. From that time till the middle of

March both troops and supplies continued to arrive daily, and heavy fatigue details from our regiment worked day and night unloading the commissary stores that came in.

The 29th of February, the 19th crossed the bay to Fort Morgan where the remainder of our brigade had been all the time. Here at Navy Cove we had inspections till everything was in apple pie order, and on the 17th of March we moved out for Mobile, with a train of over a hundred wagons following the point around the bay.

The 1st brigade 2d division, composed of the 20th Wisconsin, 94th Ills, 19th and 23d Iowa, took the advance and acted as pioneers. The country was very low and swampy, and after the first two days we had heavy rains, and the roads that never were solid were in an almost impassable state. We built Corduroy roads through miles of swamp, the water standing knee deep and the mud sinking down as much further. In some places where the roads appeared comparatively solid, the artillery would suddenly sink down, the horses being fagged out they were utterly unable to pull the guns through. Then the wet cold infantry with knapsacks strapped on would take hold and drag the guns and cassions for hours, the horses being removed.

Thus we toiled on till the evening of the 21st, when Danly's Landing on Fish River was reached. Here we found A. J. Smith with the 16th Army Corp., they having come up the river on transports. Crossing the river on a pontoon bridge, we camped on the opposite bank and rested, doing nothing but erect a strong line of works around the whole encampment.

On the 25th, the whole army moved out toward Mobile by different roads. Bertram' Brigade 2d Division, 13th Army Corps, brought up the extreme left, our road winding along the bay. That day and the succeeding one, we advanced with no opposition that the cavalry could not overcome, and the evening of the 26th, found us on a hill one mile from Spanish Fort, which was built at the mouth of the Tensas River. Just below our regiment, was a hollow and a small stream spanned by a bridge, which we had to cross. Some of our cavalry rode over it that evening and several torpedoes exploded, killing some horses and seriously injuring some men. Nine torpedoes were taken out that evening from around the bridge, and after we had passed over many more were dug up. On the morning of the 27th, we turned back seemingly, and were marched over the part of the road most plainly visible from the fort, going in the directions of the extreme right till some three miles from where we had camped, we again turned, and going through hollows and by obscure ways reached the bridge by nine o'clock, and crossing we moved cautiously forward for a half mile then formed in line of battle and advance in line with Cos. "A," "F" and "D," as skirmishers.

They were soon engaged, and Cos. "G" and "B" were added to them. Rising over the brow of a hill the fort was in plain view, and between it and our line the timber had all been felled.

We could see the men at their guns on the side of the Fort next to us; they were standing at their guns. Our regiment left the standing timber and advanced to within about nine hundred yards of the Fort,

where Col. Bruce order, "Fix Bayonets" we were amazed for a moment, thinking a charge was mediated and no other men were in sight; but a moment and the command "Stack Arms" relieved our minds. Out of fallen logs and an old fence near by, the men hurried to construct a breastwork, and then the rebels seeing we were going to advance no closer reserved their fire no longer, but opened out five or six guns on our line of five Companies, (the other fiver were yet closer but lay behind logs and shot.)

If men ever worked, we did. Logs that in cooler moments a score of me would have hesitated to attempt to move were lifted by a half dozen and flung to their proper place in the growing defense.

At every discharge of their cannon we fell flat on our faces, the pieces of bursting shells flying thickly around. Here sever of our number were wounded by shells. In a half hour a very good protection was afforded by our logs and earth,. During this whole march a shovel and axe to twelve men were carried by the men so we had them when needed. Company "F," 1st Missouri Light artillery brought two pieces up to our line and did good work. Capt. Faust of the Battery is one of the best officers we ever met. He kept his guns firing rapidly for two hours, when we were ordered forward again and the distance was one half. Still no other force had come up, and the skirmishers in front were hard pressed. On a hill off to the right and where a good view could be had, both of our line and the fort, Gen. Granger stood with Col. Bertram, commander of our brigade and Col. Glasgow, of the 23d Iowa.

They seeing our line were in doubt about what it was; but soon knew the 19th by Col. Bruce's black horse and the Adjutant's mule. This advanced position we held till evening. A rain fell all afternoon and it seemed as though a second Joshua was near, for if time ever hung heavily, it was from four o'clock till dark. But night did come, and the 20th Wisconsin and ourselves under her friendly cover erected a strong line of works the full length of both regiments. Each day the rifle pits were full of sharp-shooters, and each night our lines contracted around the Fort.

During the afternoon of the 27th, while Colonel Bruce was walking along the line, he was struck by a spent ball and fell, calling out for Capt. Roderick; but in a short time finding his leg had only been stunned by the ball, he continued to go round among the men to cheer them.

I do not think I ever saw a man who could forget himself and personal in his duties as an officer, and his care for the men so completely, as did Col. Bruce. I would not do my duty to the regiment, did I fail to express their sense of gratitude of our revered Chaplain, Rev. J. D. Sands. His kind manners, his good example and influence, and not least his noble behavior in the attack and siege of Spanish Fort, all entitle him to the high place he holds in our affections. He shared the danger of the very front and advance, and his manly bearing in action, and his womanly tenderness to the wounded would extort praise from the most unwilling, how much then would it gain our love. At times during the siege, the rebel guns would all open, and seem inspired with the frenzy of despair; but after a time we planted quite a number of siege

guns and mortars, which could silence them at any time. The rebels had some mortars which used to keep us on teh watch. They dropped down amongst us sometimes with no warning, yet we had but few men hurt by them.

One day an old boat with no engine on, but laden with hospital and Quartermaster's stores, getting loose from its fastenings at the Fort's landing floated down opposite our trenches, lodging against the spiles driven in to impede our gunboats, and that night Colonel McNulta with some others went out to it and set fire to the inside. It soon burned down to the water's edge.

On the night of April the 8th, the exertions of our forces were crowned with success, for the Fort was evacuated by the main part of the reb3ls, a few hundred staying in the trenches. While in the trenches one of our bravest and most effective sharp-shooters "Colonel Joe"-- a colored man of about twenty years of age--Joe Stewart, who was Col. Bruce's servant. He was in the advance pits all the time, and when at last through his rashness, Joe was struck by a ball in the head, and the boys hearing how badly he was hurt, were unanimous in their expressions of sorrow, and seemed well placed when he was taken to the hospital and cared for.

On our extreme right, the 8th Iowa, under Lieut. Col. Bell, in a brigade commanded by Col. Jas. Geddes of the 8th, quietly slipped around the part of the rebel line next the river, and the first intimation the rebels had of it they were inside their works. Yet they had a fight for the mastery, ending in the capture of five hundred and thirty-five enlisted men and twenty-six officers. The troops mostly went o to Blakely,

but our brigade remained at Spanish Fort doing guard duty and gathering up the scattered munitions of war. Forty-six pieces were captured. The front of the Fort was protected by innumerable torpedoes and an abattas. Companies "A", "B" and "K" were sent to Ship Island with the prisoners under Maj. Jordan, and the remainder of the regiment went into camp.

Co. A.--	Killed	1st Serg't	J. Henry Schroeder
"	Wounded	.	Ben F. Goodwin
Co. B	Killed	Corporal	Geo Majors
"	Wounded	Priv	Thos. Washburne, in head
"	Wounded	Priv	Abram Colburn, in leg
"	Wounded	Priv	John T. Hooper, in neck
"	Wounded	Priv	Martin L. Byrkitt
Co. D.	Wounded	Corp	Jesse Fisk, Color Guard, in leg -- amputated
"	Wounded	Corp	John H. Leagle, severely
Co. E.	Wounded	Corp.	Ed. Smith, in thigh
"	Wounded	Corp.	Wm. Walker, Color Guard, in leg, severely
"	Killed	Priv.	Jas. E. Montgomery
Co. F.	Wounded		Cicero Thomas, in bowels - since died
Co. G.	Wounded	Corp	Isham Thomas, in arm
"	Wounded		John E. Sprague, in side
Co. H.	Wounded		Ed. P. Taylor, in shoulder
"	Wounded		Joseph Paxton, in foot -- amputated
"	Wounded		Joseph Mort, in back
"	Wounded		Silas Langford
Co. I	Killed	Corp.	Wm. Holiday
p. 169
Co. K	Wounded	Priv.	Alfred Huddlestone, in thigh

The location of our camp here, was both healthy and beautiful, and we remained till May in it. We found many skiffs and enjoyed the rare pleasure of hunting alligators along the swampy edges of Tensas river. Many of the scaly monsters were killed and towed into the wharf as tokens of our prowess, and many more were wounded but escaped.

One night a small shell was thrown into the campfire and exploded, seriously wounding eight or ten of Companies "A" and "K;" Corporal Thomas Pritchard of Company "K" and sergeant Jasper Mason of Company "A" so badly that they were discharged.

While laying at Spanish Fort, the news of Lee's surrender reached us, and from our cannon was sent forth peal after peal of victory and rejoicing, while from many glad hearts ascended thanks to Him who had brought us through our fiery trial. But the jubilant echoes of our guns had not yet died among the hills around Mobile Bay, when up the Bay steamed a vessel bearing the sorrowful tidings of the assassination of President Lincoln, and we were dumb with grief. When the heart is cleft to the core, there is no speech or language.

AN INVOCATION

written at "Spanish Fort", Ala., April 14th, 1865

Weep, weep, Oh! Nation, in sorrow and sadness
The requiem blend with thy songs of gladness;
The Bay and Immortelle together be wreathed,
The sigh and the Pean together be breathed,--
The "Veil of our Temple" hath been rudely rended,
And the dread Angel's wings o'er its portal extended,--
The great and the good are stricken before us,
And the gloom of sorrow is darkening o'er us,

O! let us bow meekly, not with repining,
And He who "chastens those whom He loveth,"
Fearfully thus His Providence proveth
Then waken, Oh! people, from sadness and sorrow,
The bright rays of joy will gladden the morrow,
Though we have sinned as a people and nation,
We have suffered fearfully in expiation.

But list, thro' the darkness that veileth our vision,
Freedom and Peace come from the Elysian,
Saying "Peace upon Earth, good will to all men,"
The people responding, "Amen and Amen."
Ascribing all honor and praise unto God
Who hath laid on our nation His chastening rod,
And thro' the broad earth the loud anthem swell
Blessed be "He who doth all things well."

From Spanish Fort we went to Fort Gaines and remained several weeks, doing a great deal of heavy fatigue duty. W had good quarters and drilled none but watched and waited for word of mustering out. But when at last we did move, it was to Mobile, where we stayed some time. The people of the city were bitter and did not seem to feel that they were conquered. They abused the negroes, both citizen and soldier, but were properly punished for it by Gen. Andrews, who on the refusal of the people of Mobile to unite with the Federal soldiery in the celebration of the Fourth of July, allowed the colored population the sole and exclusive use of the City Park. Their meeting was orderly and well conducted; most of the disturbances that occurred, originated with some of the evil disposed citizens.

Here we were mustered out, and the recruits were transferred to the 29th Iowa Infantry. After several days waiting for a boat, we were put aboard the White Cloud, a dilapidated old river steamer, and when we went on board two other regiments already on, making it quite crowded. But when the men found the Quartermaster was bringing a lot of mules and horses aboard they put them off, and finally when it was found to be impossible to make our regiment allow the mules aboard, we were ordered back into camp, where for several days more we lay and mediated on the folly of getting in a passion. We did at last go aboard a gulf steamer and kept waiting

at the wharf for hours, and just as she was ready to shove out, one boiler burst, and another night was passed lying in nooks and corners of the wharves.

The Landis took us at last and we soon were out of sight of the inhospitable shores of Mobile. That night we knew the first time the thrill that is felt at the cry, "man overboard." A rebel o n his way home in New Orleans, had fallen overboard. The boat put back and less to the spot where he was last seen, but he was not found.

At New Orleans we were not delayed an hour, but started at once on the R. J. Lockwood.

We left at Mobile Captains Sommerville and Powell, and 1st Lieut. Bonnell, to answer for our sins the day the mules were put off. They were detained some time, but lost no pay and were found guilty of no offence.

On our upward journey we passed our Morganzia and Vicksburg, taking our last look at them gladly. When Cairo was reached the steamboat was left for the cars, and we were on northern soil again. Our ride through Illinois seemed like a triumphal march, so many and such hearty greeting did we receive. From every house were waved flags and handkerchiefs, while many a tongue and eye gave us welcome.

At Davenport we were met at eh depot by the citizens of the place, who gave us a brief but warm reception, and we were taken at once to Camp McClellan where we found other regiments waiting for discharge and final payment. The evening of our arrival, Governor Stone made us a kind and genial speech, which satisfied all that we would be delayed as little as possible.

The 1st of August, we were no longer an organization, and fast as pay was received, the men were off for home. Ere we were disbanded, however, Col. Bruce issued a farewell address, which I give in full, because so noble an utterance is well worth preserving:

On the eve of our separation it is, perhaps, no more than proper that I should address to you a few parting words.

We have been together for three long eventful years--years of surprising interest in the history of our country, and of the world. Inspired by a common patriotic impulse, we joined hands on the altar of our Country and common sufferings. Sacrifices and dangers have unite dus in teh affectionate memory of the heart.

You have borne yourselves well in the great struggle. No commanding officer has ever spoken of you otherwise than in commendation for your gallant services. You have endured with patience and fortitude the hardships and dangers to which you have been exposed; you have cheerfully performed every day required of you, whether on the field of battle or in the pauses of the conflict.

You return from the victorious fields of the Republic, conscious of having done your part in bearing aloft the banner of your Country's Nationality, and planting it upon every hill and valley throughout the land. You will receive the congratulations of your friends, and a grateful country will not forget your services.

Go, then, my comrades, put off the panoply of war, and enter the pursuits of peaceful industry; prove yourselves good citizens, as you have good soldiers. Forget not the principles for which you have victoriously contended, and for preserved life, health, and good government, forget not the debt of gratitude due to Almighty God. With the most profound sentiments of respect for the memories of our honored dead, and the liveliest feelings of kindly regard for all who have survived, I bid you, comrades all, farewell.

I part from your command without the consciousness of one unkind feeling toward any one of you. God bless you, and grant you long life and health. May home soon gladden your eyes and cheer your hearts. And may domestic happiness meet you smiling at your gates.

Glancing over a paper, I see "the Wirz commission re-assembled yesterday; but owing to the indisposition of the prisoner adjourned without transacting any business." And I think of prison pens full of men, good and true, whose

Indisposition! Then, too, thoughts come of the hours spent in damp close Southern jails, when life seemed a burden; and often floated through my mind the words Longfellow puts into the Abbot's mouth:

Sitting here, my mind wanders Southward where, in many an unmarked grave, in dreary wood or lonely valley, lie our heroes, who are not forgotten in their nameless graves; but live in our hearts as models, heroic Christian patriots. From their ashes how can spring aught else than noble inspirations, love of God and our Country. Philosophy says the lightest footfall of every child jars this earth to its center. If, then,

it takes but such a trifle to move a sphere, we may be sure that the life and death of such men, will move a nation to a deeper and holier love of the principles for which they died; and may all prejudices be written as on the sand that the waves of time may wash over them, and they may be forgotten. And let the thoughts of our fallen brothers that linger in our memory, quicken our love for the good and the beautiful in our government, eve to the end.

Col. B. Crabb, discharged, Springfield, Mo., March 16th 1863
Lieut Col. Kent, discharged, New Orleans, La., March 9th 1864
Lieut. J. H. Downing, Quartermaster, died at Springfield, Mo., October 19th 1862
Major Philip Harvey, Surgeon, transferred May 20th 1863
D. A. Hurst, Assistant Surgeon, discharged, Forsyth February 26th, 1863
Dennis Murphy, chaplain, transferred to the 4th U. S. C. I, New Orleans, March 23d, 1864
Capt. John M. Wood, discharged, Fort Gaines, Alabama, March 11th, 1865.
Capt. T. H. Stanton, promoted. Lieut. E. O. Woodford, discharged, New Orleans, La., September 21st 1863

Serg't Hiram Ethridge, discharged, Fayetteville, Arkansas, March 20th 1863
Corp. Bruce W. Cotton, discharged, Carrollton, Ark. January 28th, 1863
Corp. E. A. Dickey, discharged, Forsyth Mo March 14th, 1863
Priv. Fred Parks, died, Fort Gaines, Ala. March 10th 1865
Priv. John T. Adell, died at New Orleans hospital, Aug. 22d, '63
Priv. B. E. Andrews, discharged, by order of President Lincoln, February 1864
Priv. Andrew Coulter, transferred t Brass Band of 2nd Brig., 2nd Division, 13th Army Corps.
Priv. Lewis N. Beucler, discharged, St. Louis, Mo, Jan. 29th, '63
Priv. Wm. B. Baltzell, died of wound, Springfield, Mo. April 30th 1863
Priv. James M. Coleman
Priv. Joseph Chilton, discharged, Springfield, Mo, Feb 9th, '63
Priv. Jacob Frederick, transferred to V. R. C. Aug. 1st. 1863
Priv. Robt. A. Hawthorne, discharged, Springfield, Mo, Dec. 8th 1862
Priv. Otto Holstein, dismissed by order of Gen Herron, November 2nd 1862
Priv. J. H. Hoffman, died, New Orleans, March 14th 1864
Priv. Harrison Jones, transferred to V. R. C., Jan 15th, 1864
Priv. Philip Jones, transferred to V. R. C., March 15th, 1864
Corp. C.H.Judd, discharged, Barrancas, Fla., Sept 28th,1864
Priv. John W. Lyon, discharged, Springfield, Mo., April 28th, 1864
Priv. Thos. Laughery, transferred to V. R. C. March 15th 1864
Priv. W. H. McVeigh, died, Carrollton, La. Oct. 16th, 1863
Priv. John Mitchell, died, Port Hudson, La., Aug. 10th 1863
Priv. Norman Sortwell, discharged, Springfield, Mo., Oct. 5th 1863
Priv. John Sammons, drowned, Forsyth, Mo., March 1st, 1863
Priv. David Wise, discharged, Springfield, Mo., Dec 8th, 1862
Priv. A.Yeardley, died, New Orleans, La., March 19th, 1865

DISCHARGED Priv. Wm. A. Helmick, St. Louis, Mo., Jan 24th, 1863
Priv. John Hines, St. Louis, Mo., Feb. 9th, 1863
Corp. Wm. Holland, Springfield, Mo., Feb. 24th, 1863
Priv. John A. Brubaker, Springfield, Mo., Feb. 26th, 1863
Priv. John C. Presbury, Springfield, Mo, Feb. 6th, 1863
Priv. Alex. Miller, Springfield, Mo, Feb. 6th, 1863
Priv. Thos. B. Morris, Springfield, Mo, Feb. 13th, 1863
Priv. Madison G. Chapman, Springfield, Mo., Feb. 3d, 1863
Priv. John E. Sprague, St. Louis, Mo., Feb 1st, 1863
Priv. Henry C. Pike, Springfield, Mo., March 20th, 1863
Priv. M. S. Lesnet, Springfield, Mo., March 27th, 1863
Priv. Joseph Higbee, Springfield, Mo., April 4th, 1863
Priv. W. C. Chapman, St. Louis, Mo., March 24th, 1863
Priv. Joseph Story, Springfield, Mo., April 21st, 1853
Priv. John Strange, New Orleans, La., Feb. 10th, 1863
p. 183

Priv. Eugene Allison, New Orleans, La., Jan. 31st, 1864
Priv. Wm. C. Stewart, New Orleans, La., May 22nd, 1864
Priv. Chas. B. Knight, St. Louis, Mo., May 16th, 1865
Priv. Aaron C. Scull, Fort Gaines, Ala., June 2nd, 1865
Corp. Isaac Freeland, Fort Gaines, Ala., June 16th, 1865
Fifer, Elisha Dobbs, Springfield, Mo., May 23d, 1865

Priv. Milton Gamble, New Orleans, La., May 23d, 1865
Priv. John Smice, Fort Gaines, Ala., June 16th, 1865

Corp. Chas. R. Potter, V. R. C., Jan. 16th 1864
Serg't Henry Thompson, V. R. C., April 10th, 1864
Priv. Wm. C. Hunt, Brigade Brass Band, June 29th, 1864
Priv. Geo. M. Bell, Brigade Band, June 29th, 1864

COMPANY "G"-- DIED

Priv. Thos. Knipes, St. Louis, Mo., Sept. 6th, 1862
Priv. Thos. Ogden, Crane Creek, Mo., Nov. 8th, 1862
Priv. Edward Freyer, Springfield, Mo., Nov. 8th, 1862
Corp. Wm. Payton, Prairie Grove, Ark. of wound, Dec. 10th '62
Priv. Geo. Gillmore, Springfield, Mo., Dec. 18th, 1862
Serg't B.W. Huff, Fayetteville, Ark., of wound, Jan. 6th 1863
Priv. Squire McGraw, Springfield, Mo., Feb. 12th, 1863
Priv. Jeremiah Helmick, Fayetteville, Ark., Jan. 15th, 1863
Priv. Chas. Dodder, drowned, Forsyth, Mo., March 1st, 1863
Priv. Joel W. Wyman, Springfield, Mo., April 19th, 1863
Priv. Merrit P. Higby, Barrancas, Fla., Oct. 15th, 1864
Priv. James Cowgill, Barancas, Fla., Dec. 5th, 1864

TRANSFERRED

Priv. Hiram H. Wiggins, V. R. C., St. Louis, Mo, July 29th, '63
Priv. James Smith, V. R. C., July 29th, 1863
Priv. Godfried Kern, V. R. C., July 29th, 1863
Corp. Thos. B. Hatton, V. R. C., July 1st, 1864
Priv. Wm. T. Alley, V. R. C, July 1st, 1864

COMPANY "H" DIED

Serg't John Strange, Jr., Rolla, Mo., Oct. 19th 1862
Priv. Thos. E. Hearne, Ozark, Mo., Dec. 7th, 1862
Priv. Jefferson Green, Springfield, Mo. Dec. 4th, 1862
Priv. Theo. Gideon, Springfield, Mo., Jan. 4th, 1863
Priv. Eli Vail, Natchez, Miss., Aug. 1st, 1863
Priv. H. L. Prosser, Vicksburg, Miss., Aug. 4th, 1863
Priv. Wm. Morrison, Port Hudson, La., Aug. 12th, 1863
Priv. Robert Deming, Brownsville, Texas, Feb. 8th, 1864
Priv. Volney R. Bonner, drowned in Rio Grande, April 20th, 1864
Priv. Robt. B. Eaton, New Orleans, La., Sept. 18th, 1864
Priv. John J. McIntosh, drowned in Pensacola Bay, Oct. 1st, '64
Priv. Wm. Teter, drowned in Mississippi sound, April 6th, 1865

DISCHARGED

Priv. Geo. B. Crail, Spirngfield, Mo., Dec. 8th, 1862
Priv. Norval J. Utt, St. Louis, Mo. Feb 9th, 1863

DISCHARGED

Priv. Mark Godown, Carrollton, Ark. Jan. 16th, 1863
Priv. Henry W. Crawley, Springfield, Mo., Feb. 3d, 1863
Priv. Isaac R. Gaddis, Springfield, Mo., Feb 5th, 1863
Priv. Thos. E. Doane, Springfield, Mo., Feb. 6th, 1863
Priv. Henry Patterson, Springfield, Mo., Feb. 6th, 1863
Priv. Geo. Lonnon, Springfield, Mo., Feb. 14th, 1863
Priv. Geo. Batcheler, Springfield, Mo., Feb. 23d, 1863

p. 186

Priv. Wm. J . Price, Forsyth, Mo., Feb 23d, 1863
Corp. Wm. P. Dunham, Springfield, Mo., Feb. 24th, 1863
Priv. John H. Jameson, Springfield, Mo, Feb. 28th, 1863
Priv. John Lorton, Springfield, Mo, Feb. 28th 1863
Serg't Jacob Nixon, Springfield, Mo., Feb. 28th 1863
Priv. Stephen Whittlesy, Springfield, Mo., March 3d, 1863
Priv. Henry Dean, St. Louis, Mo., Feb. 23d, 1863
Priv. Russell Johnston, Springfield, Mo., March 14th, 1863
Priv. Henry Gilbert, Springfield, Mo. March 24th, 1863
Corp. Alex. Fix, Springfield, Mo., March 28th, 1863
Priv. Wm. A. Bowles, Springfield, Mo., March 27th, 1863
Priv. Jas. L. Fry, Springfield, Mo., June 21st, 1863
Serg't Geo. P.. Linaweaver, St. Louis, Mo., July 9th, 1863
Priv. Geo. W. Humbert, Brownsville, Texas, Oct. 18th, 1863, C. D. A.
Priv. David Moody, Davenport, Iowa, May 6th, 1865
Corp. Geo. P. Stevens, New Orleans, La., May 31st, 1865
Priv. Joseph Martin, New Orleans, La., May 31st, 1865
Serg't Henry S. Ward, Fort Gaines, Ala., June 12th, 1865

Priv. A. C. Douglass, V. R. C., Aug. 4th, 1863
Priv. Luman A. Brooks, V. R. C., Jan. 16th, 1864
Priv. Martin Hombaker, V. R. C., April 6th, 1864