The Weather—On Picket Near the Rappahannock—The “Mud Expedition”—The Ninth Coups at Newport News—The Regiment Goes to Kentucky—Reception at Cincinnati—Life in Paris, Ky.—Scouting—March to Somerset, Ky.

January came in with a series of pleasant days, but with heavy frosts at night. On the 10th, however, there was a cold rain-storm, and the weather which immediately followed this furnishes a good idea of the character of a Virginia winter. Before the next morning, the wind changed to the north, freezing hard the wet earth; before noon of the 11th, the sun came out bright and warm, and, in the course of a few hours, the ground was like a quagmire, and the roads almost impassable. The first day of the year was made a holiday for the army.

January 5, a detail was made from the regiment for picket duty on the river, consisting of two commissioned officers and sixty-five enlisted men. Captain Tripp, who had charge of part of the pickets on this day, gives an excellent account in his diary of what he saw of the enemy’s lines. With the assistance of a powerful field-glass, the day being fine and the atmosphere free from fog, he could discern the enemy’s entire position. As far down the river as the aided eye could reach, were seen their camps and camp-fires: this was the Confederate right wing. Westward were numerous columns of smoke rising up out of the woods, denoting the presence of a large army. As the glass was turned a little farther in the latter direction, the eye fell upon a collection of fresh-looking mounds, under which reposed the gallant dead of Franklin’s corps; for this was the spot where his soldiers fought so bravely, and where so many went down in the storm of the battle. Near the place where Franklin crossed the river on the morning of the 13th of December, were long lines of entrenchments, while still nearer the bank were numerous rifle-pits, and, gathered about them, squads of Confederate soldiers, clad in their butternut uniforms, closely watching our lines. Yonder was a brick house, having the appearance of the headquarters of a general, for about it stood a number of horses, and arriving and departing were several mounted orderlies. Directly in front of the building was a battery of brass field-pieces. In the rear of the house, on rising ground, were two redoubts and a line of entrenchments. Then, in another direction, were seen the ruins of the railroad bridge, which once during the battle was gained and held by our troops, but which they finally yielded after a desperate struggle.

A little at the left of the town was a large house, riddled with shot and shell, the red flag placed there by our surgeons still flying from its roof. At some distance in the rear of this house rose a high hill, crowned with a line of entrenchments having embrasures for ten guns, and behind all these, still a higher hill with five redoubts, at the right of which were three more redoubts, with embrasures for four guns, the several redoubts being so arranged as to enfilade the fire of each other. This whole region was, in short, a network of powerful fortifications, intricate and impregnable,—a fact which shows how difficult was the task of General Burnside, and makes still more prominent the bravery of our soldiers of the Army of the Potomac, who, on that cold December morning, moved forward to the hopeless assault with cheers.

During the day of the 5th, some of the pickets belonging to our regiment endeavored to start a conversation with the Confederate pickets, on the opposite bank, but without much success. Finally, one of our soldiers asked the Confederates the name of their regiment; the inquiry was answered by writing on a piece of white paper, in large black characters, “17th Virginia,” and holding it up to view. This encouraged another of our soldiers to make a boat of a piece of board, rig it with a rude sail, freight it with coffee and newspapers, and send it across to the enemy’s side. After a little delay, the boat was returned, loaded with Virginia tobacco and late Richmond papers.

It often happened, after the first year of the war, that the troops were not regularly paid. This was occasioned chiefly by the unsettled condition of the army, and its frequent movements. At the time of which we are speaking, the regiment had not received any pay for a series of months; and although it may not be readily understood by the general reader how soldiers could make much use of money in the army, where they were provided with food and clothing, yet they were always in need of something which the Government did not furnish, and there were few situations in which the opportunities to spend money were not equal to the soldier’s means. The few provident ones who always contrived to save their wages,—some with a view to speculate in a small way,—had plenty of chances, during such times of financial embarrassment as this, to loan money at high rates of interest. This loaning of money was a very common practice among the soldiers, and the careful accounts which they kept with each other, and the character of some of the charges made, were extremely ludicrous. The writer remembers of having seen one of these accounts, which had on a single page twenty charges, none of which exceeded ten cents, and several were as small as one cent. This was not, however, because the soldiers were penurious, but because their pay was small, and each had plenty of uses for the little money he received.

On the night of the 16th, the regiment received orders to “pack up,” and be ready, with three days’ cooked rations, to move at an early hour on the following morning. Everybody was out bright and early the next morning, completing arrangements for the expected march, for it was no slight task to prepare a regiment to move, especially after it had been long settled in camp. A day of excitement was passed; but yet the order to march did not come. No one knew what was contemplated, though everybody surmised that it was another forward movement, and as usual, when there was a prospect of a fight, the men retired at night singing patriotic songs with new life and vigor.

Sunday the 18th went by in very much the same manner as the day before. During the morning, however, Franklin’s grand division moved up the river, all in high spirits. This heightened the excitement in camp, and gave still greater force to the rumor of a forward movement, which was fully confirmed at night by the reading, on dress-parade, of General Burnside’s order, announcing to the army that it was once more going to meet the enemy in battle.

Monday morning came, and with it a storm of wind and rain, which increased as the night approached. At three o’clock the next morning, orders were received that in consequence of the storm, the tents would not be struck till specially ordered. There was no improvement in the weather during the three succeeding days; and on the 21st, it was generally understood that the whole movement was abandoned. Such proved to be the fact, and, on the 22d, the trains and troops began to return; that is, that portion of them which managed to get out of the mud, for much of the artillery, and some of the heavy wagons, could not be moved for several days. The enemy in large force were encountered at Banks’s Ford, and it was reported that one of their skirmishers hailed one of our skirmishers with the facetious inquiry of why we didn’t come before it rained, as they had been patiently waiting for us for several days. This movement was generally known as the “Mud Expedition.”

On the 26th, General Burnside was relieved of his command of the army by General Hooker. On the 28th, Major Chipman rejoined the regiment, after several months’ absence caused by sickness. On the last day of January, Major M. S. Stone, the new paymaster, made his appearance, for the purpose of paying off the regiment, causing great rejoicing, but for some reason, did not pay the entire amount then due the members.

February 5, the regiment received orders to be ready to embark for Fortress Monroe without delay. Major-General William F. Smith relieved General Sedgwick in command of the Ninth Corps, and was ordered to report with that corps to General Dix. February 8, General Burns was relieved of his command of the division, and was succeeded by General Willcox; on the same day there was a temporary change in the command of two of the companies of the regiment; Captain Brooks being relieved of the command of Company D and ordered to Company G, and Captain Richardson assuming command of Company D.

The departure of the regiment did not take place till the 12th of the month, though each day it had received orders to march, which were as often countermanded as issued. The men were aroused at four o’clock in the morning of the 12th, and at five o’clock marched to Falmouth Station, where, after some delay, they took the cars for Aquia Creek Landing, arriving there before noon. At this place the regiment embarked on the transport steamer “Hero,” which also took on board Company B of the Twenty-seventh New Jersey Regiment, a squad of the One Hundred and Third New York Volunteers, several of the corps officers, and for freight fifty horses and several tons of baggage; the steamer also towed down into the bay a schooner laden with mules and army wagons. At night it was rough weather, the wind blew hard, and the transport came to anchor off “Piney Point,” starting again the next morning. Before night of the 13th, the steamer had entered Hampton Roads, and come to anchor under the walls of the old fortress. Soon after arriving, Colonel Barnes, then in command of the regiment, went ashore for orders, but received none, making it necessary for the officers and men to spend another night on the crowded transport. On the morning of the 14th, the Colonel again went ashore, and this time received orders to report to General Willcox at Newport News. After some delay, the transport steamed up the James River, and at two o’clock in the afternoon the regiment landed and marched through the fortifications, halting on the banks of the river and forming its camp not far from the old “Brick House.” The barracks erected by the Battalion in the autumn of 1861 had been torn down. With this exception Newport News looked very familiar, and one of the officers remarked at the time, “It seems as though the war is over, and we have all at last returned home.”

By a strange combination of circumstances, the regiment had now been brought to this distant camp for the third time in its history. Its first service here was in 1861, when it knew nothing of war or its hardships; the second at the close of the exhaustive Peninsular campaign; and this, the third, at the close of three other campaigns, in each of which it had reaped its full share of glory and suffering. Newport News had become a camp of no mean proportions; in the river was lying a formidable fleet of war-vessels, among them the “Galena,” and one double-turreted monitor. “Merrimack No. 2,” then at Richmond, and occasionally showing itself far up the river, as if it was about to make a raid upon our shipping in Hampton Roads, was doubtless the principal cause of this assemblage of the navy, though a military camp could not safely be maintained here, with the enemy in possession of Richmond and the opposite shore, without the aid of one or more vessels of war. A small burial-yard had been established some months before the regiment left Newport News, in May, 1862; but now it had grown to be a mammoth city of the dead; a large portion of the plain between the old camp of the Twentieth New York Regiment and the signal station was covered with soldiers’ graves. Soon after the arrival of the Ninth Corps at Newport News, General Getty’s division was transferred to Suffolk, where the enemy under Longstreet were making serious demonstrations. This withdrawal of Getty’s division reduced the corps to two divisions,—one under the command of General Orlando B. Willcox, and the other under General Samuel D. Sturgis; and the corps was commanded by Major-General John G. Parke.

While the regiment was here, the following commissions were issued: First Lieutenant Abram A. Oliver as Captain, from January 10, 1863; Second Lieutenant J. O’Neil as First Lieutenant, from November 1, 1862; Second Lieutenant John M. Deane as First Lieutenant; Sergeant-Major Hunting as Second Lieutenant. The reception of a commission was made the occasion of a pleasant social gathering among the officers, and certain things were done in connection with the affair which in the army were termed “pinching the commission.” Although our knowledge of the nature of these proceedings is somewhat limited, yet we should judge that some term of a liquid nature would express their character better than “pinching.” There had been several changes among the officers of the regiment prior to this, that should be mentioned at this time. Surgeon Brown left the regiment early in 1862; Assistant Surgeon Cogswell was made Surgeon, August 7, 1862, and Albert Wood of Tewksbury, Assistant Surgeon, July 31, 1862; James C. Bassett, Assistant Surgeon, August 20, 1862; First Lieutenant Alfred O. Brooks, Captain, December 6, 1862; First Lieutenant Daniel W. Lee, Captain, January 14, 1863; Second Lieutenant Charles A. Carpenter, First Lieutenant, September 13, 1862; Second Lieutenant George W. Taylor, First Lieutenant, September 13, 1862; Second Lieutenant Augustus D. Ayling, First Lieutenant, December 6, 1862; Second Lieutenant Henry S. Braden, First Lieutenant, January 27, 1863; Second Lieutenant John B. Pizer, First Lieutenant, January 11, 1863; Second Lieutenant William W. Pray, First Lieutenant, January 14, 1863; Second Lieutenant James H. Atherton, First Lieutenant, March 22, 1863; Sergeant Peter Winsor, Second Lieutenant, September 13, 1862; Sergeant George H. Long, Second Lieutenant, November 23, 1862; Sergeant George W. Pope, Second Lieutenant, December 6, 1862; Sergeant Thomas Conant, Second Lieutenant, December 6, 1862; Sergeant William H. Phillips, Second Lieutenant, November 2, 1862; Sergeant George D. Williams, Second Lieutenant, January 27, 1863; Sergeant Frank Goodwin, Second Lieutenant, January 11, 1863; Sergeant William F. Pippey, Second Lieutenant, January 14, 1863; Sergeant Thomas F. Darby, Second Lieutenant, March 22, 1863; Sergeant Chas. G. Boswell, Second Lieutenant, March 22, 1863.

On the 25th of February, the corps was reviewed on the old parade-ground—where the Twenty-ninth had often drilled in times past—by General John A. Dix, then in command of the department of Fortress Monroe, the review occupying from ten o’clock in the morning till three o’clock in the afternoon. The corps was destined for active service in the West, and the six weeks spent at this place were almost wholly occupied by company and regimental drills. No duty in the army was so odious to the veteran as that of drilling; he considered it the worst form of the “red tape” regulations of military life, and always went about it reluctantly. There was no little ground for this belief; the majority of the soldiers were very proficient in these matters, and when their pride was strongly appealed to, they never failed to acquit themselves creditably.

On the evening of March 17, there was great excitement in camp because of an order from headquarters for each man to be supplied with forty rounds of cartridges and twenty extra rounds, two days’ cooked rations and two days’ uncooked, and the regiment to be ready to move at a moment’s warning. This gave the rumor manufacturers plenty of business; immediately the story spread through the camp that the troops were to move up the Peninsula; that the Army of the Potomac was falling back to Aquia Creek; and another, that the corps was going to Suffolk; and while these wild stories were passing from mouth to mouth, an order came countermanding that part of the former order in regard to the cooking of rations. There was a slight abatement of the excitement for two days, when (19th) the regiment struck its tents and marched down to the Landing, expecting to go on board the steamer “City of Richmond,” which was lying in the river. Only a part of the officers and men went on board the boat that night, the rest taking up their quarters in the old log barracks formerly occupied by the Second New York. Those who remained on shore had a cold, wet time, for it snowed hard all night and part of the next day. Every preparation having been made, on Saturday the 21st, the balance of the regiment went on board, and in the afternoon of the same day the boat started down the river. Colonel Pierce, who had long been absent in Massachusetts, and Captain Leach, who had but recently recovered from his sickness, contracted in June, 1862, joined the regiment this day; and Major Chipman, whose health had again become seriously impaired, left for home on a short leave of absence, Captain Doten assuming the duties of Major.

On the 23d, the steamer reached Baltimore, and the regiment immediately took the cars for the West, travelling all night, and the next morning reaching Harper’s Ferry, where a pause of two hours was made for breakfast. After leaving Harper’s Ferry everything was new to the men, many seating themselves upon the tops of the cars in order to get a better view of the country. Massachusetts soldiers could not be satisfied with passing through any section of the country for the first time without being close observers of every house and garden on the route, and every striking feature of natural scenery; the letters of the comrades written about this time are filled with interesting accounts of their journey. They were passing through a region where the people were loyal to the old flag, and as the train swept along, the occupants of the houses and the lonely forest huts greeted them by waving their hats and shouting words of welcome. Whenever a pause was made at the villages, the people turned out in mass and treated the troops with food and drink; at Grafton, West Virginia, some of the men made the important discovery that whiskey was selling at the moderate price of five cents a glass.

On the 25th, the train reached Parkersburg, on the Ohio River, and here the regiment left the cars and embarked on the river-boat “Eclipse,” for Cincinnati. The sail on the river, which occupied about twenty-four hours, was greatly enjoyed. Though there were other New England and Eastern regiments in the Ninth Corps, yet it is stated that the Twenty-ninth was the first from either of these sections to enter the department of the West during the war. The fact that Massachusetts ranked first among all the States of the Union in its devotion to the cause of the Government, as well as its prominence in the earliest days of the war, added greatly to the curiosity of the people of Cincinnati to look upon a regiment bearing the time-honored and historic Pine-tree flag; when the steamer, therefore, hauled up to the levees in that city, and it became known that she had on board a Massachusetts regiment, thousands of people left their homes and thronged about the landing, eager to obtain a glance at the soldiers. What is still more pleasant to record, is the fact that the thousands of men and women who had gathered here were actuated by a better motive than mere curiosity, as nearly every one seemed eager to confer some favor upon the soldiers. The giving of food, which is always the first prompting of human hospitality, was the principal thought of the people; and as the men filed off the steamer and marched up the broad avenue into the city, they were feasted at every step. The regiment proceeded to a large hall, where a banquet of the most substantial character was spread before them; and when the dinner was over, the committee of citizens under whose direction it had been served, bid the soldiers take with them to the steamer the remnants of the feast. The appearance which they presented as they marched down to the boat, every soldier bubbling with joy and satisfaction, and carrying in his hands or slung over his shoulder a loaf of bread or a large ham, was indeed very ludicrous, and furnished an occasion for much mirth. During their brief stay in the city, several of the officers availed themselves of the opportunity of doing a little trading at the stores, which were well filled with a fine assortment of goods. One of these relates the following incident: Knowing that the regiment was going again into the field, he obtained a prescription from the Medical Director for several varieties of medicines needed by soldiers in that climate. Taking his prescription to one of the best druggists in the city, it was faithfully filled; but when he presented the druggist with money, was blandly told by the latter, that they “took no pay from Union soldiers at that store.” The same officer made other purchases, such as clothing, and in every instance received the articles either at cost or gratuitously. At that time troops were constantly entering and leaving the city, and every incoming and outgoing regiment was treated in this liberal manner.

On the evening of the day alluded to (March 26), the regiment crossed the Ohio and landed at Covington, Ky., where, after a brief delay, on the same night, it took the cars on the Kentucky Central Railroad and started for Paris, eighty miles distant. A night’s ride brought the regiment to the outskirts of the city, but it did not enter the place till the third day of April following. On the way to Paris, two companies were left at one of the railroad stations, where they served as a guard for several days, finally joining the regiment in Paris.

The entire corps had been ordered into Kentucky for the sole purpose of repressing the operations of certain bodies of guerillas under the notorious partisans, Morgan, Wheeler, Pegram, Clute, and others. These bands had for more than a year previous to the arrival of the Ninth Corps, been constantly engaged in raiding over this portion of Kentucky, known as the “Blue Grass” region, the most fertile part of the State, and consisted of bodies of irregular volunteer cavalry, principally Kentuckians. These guerillas made it their object to plunder every Union man within their reach, of cattle, horses, and grain, and conveying the captured property into the lines of the Confederate General Bragg; in other words, they were engaged in foraging for the Confederate army. When pursued, they would retire into the mountain fastnesses of East Tennessee and Southwestern Virginia, where they became reasonably secure from molestation.

Only a year before the arrival of General Burnside at Cincinnati, these irregular Confederate troops were in occupation of Paris and other places in central Kentucky, and lorded over the people in the most despotic manner, persecuting the Unionists, laying contributions upon them whenever their fancy or avarice dictated; and although some of the larger places, such as Paris and Somerset, had been for some months garrisoned by Federal troops, yet these guerilla bands were moving over the country far and near, sometimes even dashing up to our picket lines and firing upon them.

Here and there throughout the region were wealthy planters, who, from the selfish desire to save their property, or from fealty to the Confederate cause, harbored and protected these roving bands, giving them food and quarters. These persons who harbored armed enemies were included in the terms of the famous General Order, No. 38, issued by General Burnside, and by the terms of that order were reckoned as spies and traitors. The particular clause which covered these planters was as follows: “All persons within our lines, who harbor, protect, conceal, feed, clothe, or in any way aid the enemies of our country.”

The camp of the regiment was formed quite near the village, and in the vicinity of two important railroad bridges. Its location also commanded the Lexington Road, over which large amounts of stores were daily transported. On Sunday the 29th, a large majority of the men marched with their officers to church, in the village, an incident that at once gave them a high reputation among the good people of the town, and opened the way for the very friendly relations that afterwards existed between them and the inhabitants. On the first of April, an order came for the regiment to pack up and march to Lexington, capital of Fayette County, twenty-five miles south of Paris, on the Covington and Lexington Railroad, and General Ferrero’s brigade was to take the place of the Twenty-ninth and the other troops at Paris. At this juncture, the kind feelings of the citizens for the regiment served it in good stead; for as soon as it became known that it had been ordered away, a meeting of the people of the town was called, at which it was decided to request General Burnside to countermand the order. A telegram to this effect was sent to him, and this generous action was supplemented by the circulation of a petition of the same import, which, after being numerously signed by the citizens, was at their request forwarded to the General at Cincinnati, by a committee headed by one Dr. Griffin. The petition was favorably considered, and General Ferrero’s brigade was sent to Lexington instead. On the 3d of April, the regiment moved into the town, seven of the companies occupying the court-house, and the others adjoining buildings. Colonel Pierce was given charge of the post, and Colonel Barnes had command of the regiment, with his quarters near the court-house.

The people of Paris were intelligent and cultured, and the place was the residence of some of the finest and the wealthiest old families in the State. The Hon. Garrett Davis, United States Senator from Kentucky, Cassius M. Clay, and Brutus Clay, had their homes here; and among many others worthy of mention were Major Duncan, a most intense Unionist, Drs. Griffin and Barnes, and the mayor of the town. All these gentlemen became much devoted to the officers and men of the regiment, and showed them numerous attentions. Mr. Davis repeatedly called in person upon Colonel Barnes, and cordially invited both him and his officers to dine; and Major Duncan and many other citizens did the same. It was but natural that these educated people of Paris, who had been accustomed to associate a uniform with a guerilla or a loafer, should, upon acquaintance, have had their feelings of respect for the soldiers of Massachusetts greatly increased, for they found, even in the ranks, graduates of our high schools, academies, and normal schools; and among the officers, several graduates of colleges, gentlemen of the learned professions, of the trades, and of the arts.

One of the duties imposed upon the regiments here was to break up and capture the marauding bands of which we have spoken, and to arrest every person who aided or abetted their lawless acts. Two or three of the persons who had been conspicuous for their excesses had been singled out by name, and their arrest expressly directed by the commander of the department. It was in pursuance of these directions that several expeditions were formed from time to time, one of which we deem of sufficient importance to describe with considerable detail.

On Saturday the 4th of April, Colonel Barnes received information that a small party of guerilla chiefs, who had been engaged for some time past in firing upon our videttes, killing and wounding several, were quartered at the house of one Talbut, a wealthy farmer, who lived several miles from Paris. Just after nightfall of the 4th, the Colonel called for twenty volunteers to accompany him on a secret expedition. The men readily volunteered, and, together with Lieutenants Ripley, Taylor, and Long, and a guide, the party started upon their excursion. The night was not altogether favorable for such an enterprise, as the moon was shining brightly, and every object upon the white, shelly roads could be seen at a long distance. After proceeding several miles on the pike, they reached a covered bridge. The guide informed the officers that the house of Talbut was on the opposite side of the river, and close by. To facilitate the surprise, and create as little bustle as possible in the neighborhood, which was known to be the favorite haunt of a large body of the guerillas, the officers dismounted and picketed their horses in the bushes near the stream, and all silently passed over the bridge. The house of Talbut, a large farm mansion, sat back from the highway an eighth of a mile, while between the house and the road was an extensive corn-field.

The guide pointed out the place, and a sergeant and squad of men were directed to proceed carefully to the house and guard each door and window; and when this was done, Colonel B. and Lieutenant Ripley, and several of the men, went up to the front door and knocked. After some delay, Mr. Talbut came to the door and demanded to know who was there. Colonel B. replied, “Federal officers.” Talbut said he should decline to admit them. The house was immediately entered, however, and in the front room was found a bed, and lying in it a whiskered man, apparently fast asleep. “Who is this?” Answer: “A Mr. Sullivan from Ohio, the teacher of our village school; he is our boarder.” “Get up, Mr. Sullivan, and dress yourself!” was the command; and a guard was left in the room to see that the order was obeyed. Then followed a search of the other rooms, which promised to be fruitless, the party once giving it up and returning with the family to the lower part of the house, Mrs. Talbut in the meantime engaging the officers in conversation, endeavoring to encourage the belief in their minds that her husband was a strong Unionist, while both herself and her daughter sympathized with the Confederates, though she protested that they had never in a single instance given them aid or shelter. Upon consultation, the officers concluded to make another search, and calling for a light, ascended the stairs. Going into one of the back chambers, they discovered a small door in one corner of the room, that, upon examination, proved to open into a clothes-closet. The place was dark, and the small hand-lamp threw but a feeble ray of light into the room. Colonel B. took a musket from one of the guard, and thrusting the bayonet upwards to the ceiling, removed a scuttle door. Mr. Talbut was then called up-stairs to explain matters. He became much excited, and exhorted the officers not to enter the closet with the lamp, and insisted that there was no room above the one they were in. A chair and table were brought, and a soldier climbed up through the opening in the ceiling; the lamp was handed to him, and after some delay he discovered two men crouching under the eaves. He called to them, but they made no answer, evidently thinking that the soldier called at random, as it was difficult to distinguish objects in the dim light. “Order them down, and if they refuse, shoot them!” shouted the Colonel. “I surrender! don’t shoot!” cried some one in the attic, who began crawling on his hands and knees towards the scuttle, and, with the assistance of the soldier, came down. This man had been wounded in one of his legs, and upon being questioned, confessed that he belonged to Colonel Clute’s guerillas, and had been wounded only a few days before while attempting to pick off the Federal pickets near Paris. The second command brought from his hiding-place a tall, well-built, proud-looking man of about thirty-five years, who came down the opening rather leisurely, saying, “I am only an inoffensive citizen, and I ask why I am hunted in this way.” “Why do you hide in this way, if you are inoffensive and guiltless?” was the reply. This was a poser, and elicited no response. The “inoffensive citizen” was evidently a character. His movements were quick and nervous, and he seemed to be studying the character of his pursuers, and measuring his chances of escape. Mr. Talbut was ordered under arrest, and preparations were being made for immediate departure, when one of the guard came hurriedly into the house, and, going to the Colonel, whispered something, and darted back to his post. The soldier had come in to inform the Colonel that a body of Confederate cavalry had just that moment driven across a portion of the farm, and some of them had been seen to go to the stables. Standing at the door were the whole family, and three prisoners, all talking and protesting their innocence. Silence was commanded, the wounded prisoner was paroled, the two others and Talbut were ordered to “fall in,” and the whole party at once started for camp, making the best time possible, and arriving at our outer picket station just before the break of day on Sunday the 5th. No pursuit on the part of the Confederate cavalry was attempted, or if attempted, was too tardy to be observed, and the adventurous little band came in safely with their prisoners, who proved to be of more importance than was then supposed. They were sent to Cincinnati, where they were tried and convicted by court-martial. The man “Sullivan” turned out to be an officer in Clute’s guerilla band, and the “inoffensive citizen” no less a person than a famous spy in the Confederate service.

General orders from the headquarters of the department authorized the taking of private property for military purposes; but in every instance where such property was taken, the owners were given receipts which enabled them to recover pay from the Government, on proof of loyalty. The guerillas, who learned of this practice of our officers, and who seemed to have had a waggish turn, on one occasion seized a lot of fine horses belonging to some of the farmers of Bourbon County, and gave the owners receipts over the forged signature of Colonel J. H. Barnes.

On the 12th of April, information was brought by one of the Government spies, that a body of Confederate cavalry was contemplating a raid upon the Union citizens of Middletown and vicinity. After dark, Colonel Barnes set off with about one hundred men, and by a rapid march reached Middletown by daylight the next morning. The Confederates had actually started upon their raid, but learning of the approach of the Federal troops, suddenly fled. This affair caused a wide-spread feeling of alarm among the Unionists, and when our men reached the town, the greatest excitement prevailed. The people were overjoyed at the arrival of our troops, and came thronging into the streets to meet them, each one reciting his or her complaint of abuse and robbery by the guerillas, and telling their well-grounded fears of future molestation. This was a new and strange experience for our comrades, and gave rise to a greater feeling of responsibility than they had ever known before. The terrible situation of these defenceless people, liable at any moment to be plundered of all they possessed, and perhaps murdered also, appealed strongly to the sympathies of the soldiers; and when the time arrived for them to return to Paris, it was with difficulty that they could resist the entreaties of the inhabitants of the town to remain longer. This furnishes a fair illustration of the condition of things in some of the border States during the late war; families were divided among themselves, actually at war with each other, and no man retired at night with a feeling of security.

Not long after the Middletown affair, orders were received to arrest three guerilla officers, one of whom was especially notorious. The parents and wives of two of these men lived some ten miles from Paris, and it was known that they frequently visited there; several night expeditions had been planned for capturing them, but without success. One of these excursions, participated in by twelve mounted officers of the regiment, nearly resulted in the capture of the officers by the guerillas, instead of the capture of the guerillas by the officers. On this occasion, an attempt was made by our officers to search a house occupied by the family of one of these guerilla chieftains; but as they were entering one of the chambers, the wife of the hunted enemy interfered by stating that there was a very sick woman in the room. To avoid any impropriety whatever, Surgeon Cogswell, who was of the party, was called to examine that chamber; but he had scarcely stepped over the threshold, when another of the officers, who was stationed outside as a guard, came rushing into the house, and gave the alarm that a large body of horsemen were rapidly approaching. There was no time for consultation; the same thought, namely, that of getting away from the premises as soon as possible, came into the minds of all at once, and away they dashed for the pike road, eighty rods away, and on which the hostile party was moving. The night was dark, and our officers being well mounted and good horsemen, managed to make their escape, though they were several times nearly overtaken. The good-hearted Doctor probably never left the house of a sick person in so much haste as he did that night.

On the 16th of April, the Paymaster arrived, and the regiment, to the great joy of the men, received four months’ pay, ending March 1. At about this time there were some changes made in the roster of the regiment: First Lieutenant Nathan D. Whitman was appointed Quartermaster; First Lieutenant Henry S. Braden, Acting Adjutant; and Sergeant George H. Morse of Company C, Sergeant-Major.

Several public sales of negro slaves had been advertised since the regiment had arrived in Paris, but only one actually occurred. This was witnessed by a number of the men, and it made such an impression upon them, that they moralized upon the subject in their letters and diaries. This sale took place in connection with some mules and other stock, which seemed to add to its offensiveness.

On the 25th of April, the regiment received orders to join its brigade, but did not march till noon of the following day. The departure of the regiment again brought forth many expressions of kind feeling from the people of Paris. “They could not have exhibited more feeling,” says an officer, “if the regiment had been composed of their own sons, husbands, and brothers; and the officers and men looked and acted as if they were leaving home.”

The regiment, commanded by Colonel Barnes,—Colonel Pierce remaining in command of Paris,—took cars on the Kentucky Central Railroad to Nicholasville, and proceeding two miles beyond the town, encamped for the night. On the morning of the 27th, it broke camp and marched till four o’clock in the afternoon, spending the night at Camp Dick Robinson. By successive marches, it proceeded to Lancaster (28th) and Stanford (29th). At the latter place, the Brigade was found, and after shaking hands all around, the men, weary from constant marching, lay down for the night. The following morning the Brigade broke camp, and after a very fatiguing march of eighteen miles, during which the men were forced to throw away their knapsacks, went into camp at Carpenters Creek. The spot occupied by the regiment at this place was very remarkable in its physical features; the ground where the tents were pitched was a deep depression in the earth, formed like the bottom of a bowl, covered with a rich carpet of grass, while surrounding this vale were steep hills several hundred feet high, the sides of which were covered with a heavy growth of trees. As a tarry of some five days was made here, the officers and men occupied the most of their time in endeavoring to ascertain where they were. One of the officers, in a letter written here, stated that they were “seven miles this side of Liberty,” which was probably incorrect, but as near the fact as any of them reached. The Brigade at this spot was about three miles south of Houston, nearly fifty miles from any railroad, and was under General Carter, the major portion of whose command, together with the General himself, were at this time absent “raiding.”

Reveille was beaten at one o’clock on the morning of the 5th of May, and the order given to strike tents and prepare for a long march; a little coffee was made and some food prepared, and after snatching a hasty breakfast, the regiment started off in the midst of a drizzling rain. That day’s march was indeed a hard one; the roads all along the route were muddy and uneven; at least twenty streams were forded, and numerous rugged hills (knobs) climbed during the day; the whole distance performed was not far from twenty miles; and although a march of this length in Virginia would have proved very monotonous, yet through this country, unscathed by war, covered with fine farms, and bearing every evidence of peace and plenty, the journey, though long and wearisome, was very interesting. The camp was formed at night at a spot called Fishing Creek. On the following day, during a severe rain-storm, the regiment marched to within four miles of Somerset, the capital of Pulaski County, remaining here till Friday the 8th.

The people living in the country through which the troops had marched were almost wholly farmers, and favorably disposed towards the Government, not having been much disturbed by the political excitement that raged in the large towns and cities of the State.

Some of the soldiers of the regiment, while resting at this camp, visited the farm-houses near by, and in nearly every instance were made welcome, and invited to partake of food. One of the soldiers who supped with an old farmer named Lester gives the following as the bill of fare: Warm wheat biscuit, “corn dodgers,” milk, coffee, molasses (a native production), sugar made from the maple, and plenty of “hog” (the natives never speak of pork; it is either “hog,” “shote,” or “pig meat”). The house in which Lester lived was built of logs, and had but two rooms. All the clothing worn by the family was manufactured by Mrs. Lester, from wool, flax, and cotton of their own raising; and after supper she commenced work on a piece of cloth in the loom, and these Massachusetts soldiers witnessed, for the first time in their lives, the good old custom which at one time prevailed in every home throughout New England. The family of Lester was an old-fashioned one in point of numbers; there were ten children. The average Kentucky family, however, is about twelve; and on the march from Carpenter’s Creek, one family was found which numbered nineteen children, twenty-one heads, including the prolific parents, who were represented as being very contented with their lot and proud of their family.

On Friday the 8th, the regiment broke camp and marched to the suburbs of Somerset, a town of two thousand inhabitants, containing some fine private residences and several churches. The town had been twice occupied by the enemy, and many of its citizens plundered of their property; and although few, if any, of the houses had been burned, yet an indescribable air of dreariness and loneliness seemed to pervade the whole place. The citizens appeared to be living under a constant apprehension of danger, kept themselves concealed in their houses much of the time, and so nervous were they, that one day when our batteries were engaged in target practice, the whole population was thrown into a state of great excitement, under the belief that a battle was in progress.

The camping-ground selected for the regiment was on the side of a hill, near the village, in the immediate neighborhood of which were other troops, two light batteries, one of mountain howitzers, the Twenty-seventh New Jersey Infantry, and a portion of Colonel Woodford’s Kentucky Cavalry. The latter was a very singular body of troops, and had a fame that extended throughout both Kentucky and Tennessee; it has been said that every name on its roll was represented by three men, two of whom were always at home, tending and watching their own and their companions’ crops. Their service in the regiment was by turns, relieving each other as do guards. This peculiar method of rendering military service was practicable, because the regiment rarely left the State, and was necessary on account of the constant liability of devastating raids of guerilla bands among the farming districts. Every man in this famous regiment was a rare character, and its commander pre-eminently so. Some of the orders which this officer was accustomed to give to his men could scarcely be found in any manual of tactics, the following being a specimen: “Prepare to git onto yeer creeturs! Git!” instead of, “Prepare to mount! Mount!”

There were still other troops in this vicinity beside those already mentioned, and it was generally supposed at the time that the Government could, with a few hours’ warning, concentrate at least 20,000 troops here.

A force of Confederates, variously estimated as to strength, was on the south bank of the Cumberland River, four miles from Somerset. The north bank of the stream was kept constantly and well picketed, and occasionally the river was crossed by our troops, and a raid made into the enemy’s lines. One of these expeditions, made by the Twenty-seventh New Jersey, of Christ’s Brigade, was attended by a painful accident; the stream was very rapid, and when the regiment was returning, one of the flat-boats capsized, and thirty-three men, one captain, and one lieutenant were drowned.

The mails had been extremely irregular, and the soldiers felt quite lonesome and unhappy in consequence; they were in truth more isolated from the rest of the world than ever before in their service. There being no railroad nearer than eighty miles, it was seldom that they saw a newspaper, or obtained any reliable intelligence of passing events at the various seats of war. All the rations for the entire army were drawn in wagons from Stanford, a town in Lincoln County, thirty-five miles away; and as no food could be bought in Somerset, the men were obliged to subsist wholly upon army rations; a real blessing to them, but it was nevertheless counted as a great hardship.

On the 12th of May, the regiment received orders to march, and each man was required to have two days’ rations in his haversack; but they did not march. The order doubtless originated from one of the numerous alarms which were constantly stirring up excitement, the Confederate General Morgan being south of the Cumberland with a considerable force of cavalry and mounted infantry.

On the 25th, a more serious alarm arose; the enemy crossed the river and captured about forty of Colonel Woodford’s cavalry while the latter were on picket. One of the regiments of the Brigade was sent to the river with the howitzers; but the enemy made their escape.

While the regiment was in camp at this place, Captain Thomas W. Clarke reported for duty, after several months’ absence from sickness; and here, also, Assistant Surgeon Jameson joined us for the first time.