To-day, Dr. Dyer, surgeon of the 104th Illinois, who went over the field directly after the fight, and a.s.sisted in dressing the wounds of our men, handed me a green seal ring belonging to Adjutant Gholson. The rebels had stripped the body of boots, coat and hat, and, fearing this ring would be taken, the Doctor placed it in his pocket.

The Doctor says a rebel captain took a fancy to his (the Doctor's) hat, and insisted upon buying it-swore he would shoot him if he didn't sell it; and told him he went in for raising the black flag on the d--d Yankees.

The Doctor quietly went on with his work, attending to the wounded, while the rebel captain was robbing the dead.

I telegraphed you in regard to Adjutant Gholson's death. He died heroically leading his command. His praise is upon every tongue. I will send his body home on to-day's train.

Alf.

The lines following are a touching tribute to the memory of one of the n.o.blest young men sacrificed in the war. Captain Gholson was a brave, earnest, talented, honorable man, in whose death his many friends feel a sorrowing pride:

To the Memory of Captain W. Y. Gholson.

'Neath Western skies I'm dreaming, This drear December morn, Of joys forever vanished, Of friendships rudely torn;

Of the friend so lately taken From the heartless world away; Of the well-beloved warrior Now sleeping 'neath the clay.

The links of youthful friendship, Unsullied kept through years, Grim Death hath rudely shattered- Ay, dimmed by Memory's tears.

Thou wilt be missed sincerely By the well-remembered band, Who've proved, through endless changes, United heart and hand.

Thy mother's pain and anguish Through life will never cease; The grief she's now enduring No earthly power can ease.

A father mourns the idol Which G.o.d hath taken home, Hath borne to sunnier regions, Where guardian spirits roam.

And for the grieving sister, Whose joyous days are o'er, There cometh gleams of sunshine From yonder golden sh.o.r.e.

From the throne of G.o.d eternal, Where the angel roameth free, He speaketh words of music To parents dear, and thee.

To friends and weeping kindred He speaketh words of cheer: "Be ye prepared to meet me, Prepared to meet me here."

Lizzie A. F.

Colonel Toland vs. Contraband Whisky.

"Volunteer" told me a good story of one of the gallant 34th Ohio and Colonel Toland.

During their stay at Barboursville, the Colonel noticed, one day, an extraordinary number of intoxicated soldiers in camp. Where they obtained their whisky was a mystery to the command. The orders were very strict in regard to its prohibition. After considerable effort, the Colonel succeeded in finding out the guilty party. The culprit had a little log hut on the banks of the Guyandotte River, and was dealing it out with a profuseness entirely unwarranted. The Colonel sent his orderly for Corporal Minshall, of Company G. On his arrival, the Colonel said:

"Corporal, you will take ten men, sir, and go to the whisky-cabin on the banks of the Guyandotte, seize all the whisky you find, and pour it out."

"All right," said the Corporal; "your order will be obeyed forthwith."

The Corporal got his men together, and ordered them to string all the canteens they could find around their necks. On arriving at the cabin, they seized upon and "poured out" the whisky. After a thorough loading-up, the Corporal returned and reported at head-quarters.

"You poured it out, did you?" inquired the Colonel.

"Yes, sir," categorically replied the Corporal.

The Colonel noticed a canteen about the Corporal's neck, and thought he smelled something, and, looking him steadily in the face, repeated:

"You poured it out, sir, did you?"

"Yes, sir," emphatically replied the Corporal.

"And where did you pour it, sir?"

"In our canteens, Colonel," he replied.

For a moment his eyes flashed with anger; but, on second thought, the joke struck him as being too good, and the pleasant smile so characteristic of the Colonel wreathed his face in a moment.

"Well, Corporal," continued he, "I suppose that is some of the 'poured-out' in your canteen, eh?"

"Yes, sir," he replied, with the utmost sang froid, and, at the same time, gracefully disengaging the strap from his neck, said, "Won't you try some, Colonel?"

"I don't care if I do," said the Colonel; whereupon he imbibed, saying, as he lowered the vessel, "Not a bad article-not a bad article; but, Corporal, next time I send you to pour out whisky I will tell you where to pour it."[]

CHAPTER XXIV.

War and Romance - Colonel Fred Jones - Hanging in the Army - General A. J. Smith vs. Dirty Guns.

War and Romance.

During the late movement against Vicksburg the national transports were fired upon by a rebel battery at Skipwith Landing, not many miles from the mouth of the Yazoo. No sooner was the outrage reported at head-quarters than the Admiral sent an expedition to remove the battery and destroy the place. The work of destruction was effectually done; not a structure which could shelter a rebel head was left standing in the region for several miles around.

Among other habitations destroyed was that of a Mrs. Harris, a widow lady, young, comely, and possessed of external attractions in the shape of a hundred and fifty "negroes," which she had contrived to save from the present operation of "the decree," by sending them up the Yazoo River. But Mrs. Harris was a rebel-intense, red-hot in her advocacy of Southern rights and her denunciation of Northern wrongs. Although she had not taken up arms against the Government, she was none the less subject to the indiscriminating swoop of the Proclamation; her n.i.g.g.e.rs, according to that doc.u.ment, were free, and if the Confederacy failed, she could only get pay for them by establishing her loyalty in a court of justice. Her loyalty to the Yankee nation?-not she! She was s.p.u.n.ky as a widow of thirty can be. She would see Old Abe, and every other Yankee, in the happy land of Canaan before she would acknowledge allegiance to the Washington Government. Nevertheless, being all she possessed of this world's valuables, she would like to save those n.i.g.g.e.rs.

"Nothing easier," suggested Captain Edward W. Sutherland, of the United States steam-ram Queen of the West, who, attracted by her snapping black eyes, engaged in a friendly conversation with the lady after burning her house down. "Nothing easier in the world, madam."

"How so, Captain? You don't imagine I will take that odious oath, do you? I a.s.sure you I would not do it for every n.i.g.g.e.r in the South."

"But you need not take that oath, madam-at least not the oath."

"I do not understand you, Captain," said the widow, thoughtfully.

"I said you need not take the oath of allegiance; you can establish your loyalty without it-at least," with a respectful bow, "I can establish it for you."

"Indeed! How would you do it, Captain?"

"Simply enough. I am in the Government service; I command one of the boats of the Western navy-technically denominated a ram, madam-down here in the river. Of course, my loyalty is unimpeached, and, madam, I a.s.sure you it is unimpeachable. Now, if I could only say to the Government, those n.i.g.g.e.rs are mine"--

The Captain waited a moment, to see what effect his speech was producing.

"Well!" said the widow, impatiently tapping with her well-shaped foot one of the smoking timbers of her late domicile.

"In short, my dear madam, you can save the n.i.g.g.e.rs, save your conscientious scruples, and save me from a future life of misery, by becoming my wife!"

The Captain looked about wildly, as if he expected a sudden attack from guerrillas. The widow tapped the smoldering timber more violently for a few minutes, and then, turning her bright eyes full upon the Captain, said: