"Now, Colonel," said he, "I am ready to die."

Oliver Miller, Company C, received a severe wound in the arm. He is only seventeen years of age. John Harris received three b.a.l.l.s. Robert Adair was wounded in the head. William Riddle was completely riddled, receiving one ball and four buck-shot. David Berry had his thigh broken, jumping from his horse. Berry's father was murdered by rebels at c.u.mberland Gap. His head was placed upon a block and cut off, by order of Colonel Brazzleton, of the 1st East Tennessee rebel cavalry. Nearly all these men have not only their country's wrongs to avenge, but the wrongs heaped upon their fathers, mothers, and sisters. I spent an hour in conversation with these wounded men, and all were laughing and talking in the best of spirits. Such men are invincible.

A brother of Colonel Brownlow, who is now on a visit to this camp, informs me that he had it from the most reliable source, that the rebels in and around Knoxville were actually suffering for food. An order was issued by the rebel commander at Knoxville, a few days since, to seize all the hams, sides, and bacon belonging to private parties, leaving only fifty pounds for each family. A Mrs. Tillery, of Knox County, residing twelve miles from Knoxville, when her house was visited for the purpose of being pillaged, in the fulfillment of this order, expostulated with the lieutenant in command. She told him that fifty pounds would not keep her family two weeks, and she had no way of obtaining more. Notwithstanding her entreaties, the rebel lieutenant ordered fifty pounds to be weighed and given to her. He had scarcely given the order when Mrs. Tillery drew a pistol and shot the lieutenant through the heart. The rebel detail left the meat, and took off the corpse of their commander. The spirit of discontent is manifesting itself in various ways among even the most ultra rebels. They are getting tired of seeing their country devastated by the two armies, and are anxious for a settlement; and it only awaits the daring of a few to inaugurate a "rebellion within a rebellion," which, if once started, will spread like wild-fire.

Picket Duty and its Dangers.

Of all the duties of a soldier, outpost duty is the most trying and dangerous. Courage, caution, patience, sleepless vigilance, and iron nerve are essential to its due performance. Upon the picket-guards of an army rests an immense responsibility. They are the eyes and ears of the encamped or embattled host. Hence, if they are negligent or faithless, the thousands dependent upon their zeal and watchfulness for safety, might almost as well be blind and deaf. The bravest army, under such circ.u.mstances, is liable, like a strong man in his sleep, to be pounced upon and discomfited by an inferior foe. For this reason the laws of war declare that the punishment of a soldier found sleeping on his post shall be death.

But although the peril and responsibility involved in picket duty are so great, the heroes who are selected for it rarely receive honorable mention in our military bulletins. Their collisions with the enemy are "skirmishes." The proportion of killed and wounded in these collisions may be double or triple what it was at Magenta or Solferino, but still they are mere "affairs of outposts." "Our pickets were driven in," or "The enemy's pickets were put to flight," and that is the end of it. Presently comes the news of a brilliant Union victory; and n.o.body pauses to consider that if our pickets had been asleep, or faithless, or cowardly, a Union defeat might, nay must, have been the consequence.

We forget what these men endure-their risks, their privations, their fatigues, their anxieties, their battles with themselves, when sleep-more insidious than even the lurking enemy in the bush-tugs at their heavy eyelids, and their overwearied senses are barely held to their allegiance by the strongest mental effort. The soldier who rushes to the charge at the command of his officer is animated by the shouts of his comrades, inspirited by the sounds of martial music, and full of the ardor and confidence which the consciousness of being intelligently led and loyally supported engenders. He sees his adversaries; he fights in an open field; his fate is to be decided by the ordinary chances of honorable war. Not so the picket-guard. He is surrounded by unseen dangers. The gleam of his bayonet may, at any moment, draw upon him the fire of some prowling a.s.sa.s.sin. If he hears a rustling among the leaves, and inquires, "Who goes there?" the answer may be a ball in his heart.

A Gallant Deed and a Chivalrous Return.

In the recent movement of Stoneman's Cavalry, the advance was led by Lieutenant Paine, of the 1st Maine Cavalry. Being separated, by a considerable distance, from the main body, he encountered, unexpectedly, a superior force of rebel cavalry, and his whole party were taken prisoners. They were hurried off as rapidly as possible to get them out of the way of our advancing force, and, in crossing a rapid and deep stream, Lieutenant Henry, commanding the rebel force, was swept off his horse. As none of his men seemed to think or care any thing about saving him, his prisoner, Lieutenant Paine, leaped off his horse, seized the drowning man by the collar, swam ash.o.r.e with him, and saved his life, thus literally capturing the captor. Paine was sent to Richmond with the rest of the prisoners, and the facts being made known to General Fitz-Hugh Lee, he wrote a statement of them to General Winder, Provost-Marshal of Richmond, who ordered the instant release of Lieutenant Paine, without even parole, promise, or condition, and, we presume, with the compliments of the Confederacy. He arrived in Washington on Sat.u.r.day last. This act of generosity, as well as justice, must command our highest admiration. There is some hope for men who can behave in such a manner.

But the strangest part of the story is yet to come. Lieutenant Paine, on arriving in Washington, learned that the officer whose life he had thus gallantly saved had since been taken prisoner by our forces, and had just been confined in the Old Capitol prison. The last we heard of Paine he was on his way to General Martindale's head-quarters to obtain a pa.s.s to visit his imprisoned benefactor. Such are the vicissitudes of war. We could not help thinking, when we heard this story, of the profound observation of Mrs. Gamp: "Sich is life, vich likevays is the hend of hall things hearthly." We leave it to casuists to determine whether, when these two gallant soldiers meet on the battle-field, they should fight like enemies or embrace like Christians. For our part, we do not believe their swords will be any the less sharp, nor their zeal any the less determined, for this hap-hazard exchange of soldierly courtesy.[]

CHAPTER XXIX.

An Incident at Holly Springs, Miss. - The Raid of Van Dorn - Cincinnati Cotton-dealers in Trouble - Troubles of a Reporter.

An Incident at Holly Springs, Miss.-The Raid of Van Dorn.

The amount of public and private property captured and destroyed by the enemy is estimated at something over six millions of dollars. He had considerable skirmishing with our troops, whose effective force Colonel R. C. Murphy, commandant of the post, says was less than three hundred. The Confederates lost ten or twelve in killed and wounded, and we six or seven wounded, none fatally. Colonel Murphy says he received information from Grant too late to make the necessary arrangements for the defense of the place. Though there were less than three hundred effective Union soldiers in town, all the civilians, tradesmen, speculators, and promiscuous hangers-on to the army were captured, swelling the number who gave their parole to about fifteen hundred. The raid, as you may imagine, delighted the residents of Holly Springs, who turned out en ma.s.se to welcome their brief-lingering "deliverers," and were very active in pointing out the places where Northerners were boarding. Not a few of the precious citizens fired at our troops from the windows, and acted as contemptibly and dastardly as possible. The women, who had been rarely visible before, made their appearance, radiant, and supplied the rebel Yahoos with all manner of refreshments. "Good Union men," who had sold their cotton to the Yankees, shook the Treasury-notes in the faces of the Union prisoners, saying they had been paid for their property, and had the pleasure of burning it before the "d--d Abolition scoundrels' eyes."

Cincinnati Cotton-Dealers in Trouble.

A number of cotton-buyers were robbed of whatever money they had on their persons, and some of them are said to have lost from five to ten thousand dollars apiece, which is, probably, an exaggerated statement. W. W. Cones, of Cincinnati, saved a large sum by an ingenious trick. He had twenty-eight thousand dollars on his person when the enemy entered the place, and immediately throwing off his citizen's garb, he attired himself in the cast-off gauntlets of a private soldier, entered the Magnolia House, employed as a hospital, and, throwing himself upon a bed, a.s.sumed to be exceedingly and helplessly sick, while the foe remained. As soon as the rebels had departed, he became suddenly and vigorously healthy, and walked into the street to denounce the traitors. He declared his eleven hours' sickness caused him less pain, and saved him more money than any illness he ever before endured. D. W. Fairchild, also of the Queen City, in addition to losing fifty bales of cotton, was robbed of his pocket-book, containing forty-five dollars, in the following manner: When captured, he was taken before General Jackson, popularly known as "Billy Jackson," considered a high representative of chivalry and soldiership in this benighted quarter of the globe. Jackson inquired of Fairchild, in a rough way, if he had any money with him? To which the party addressed answered, he had a trifling sum, barely sufficient to pay his expenses to the North. "Hand it over, you d--d n.i.g.g.e.r thief," roared the high-toned general, who, as soon as the porte-monnaie was produced, seized it, thrust it into his pocket, and rode off with a self-satisfied chuckle. What a n.o.ble specimen of chivalry is this Jackson! He has many kindred spirits in the South, where vulgar ruffians are apotheosized, who would, at an earlier time, have been sent to the pillory. "Sixteen-string Jack," and all that delectable fraternity, whose lives bloom so fragrantly in the pages of the saffron-hued literature of the day, would have spat in the faces of such fellows as Jackson, had they dared to claim the acquaintance of persons so much their superiors.

When the rebels were playing the part of incendiaries in town, they set fire to the building containing a great quant.i.ty of our ammunition, sh.e.l.ls, etc. The consequence was a tremendous explosion, which broke half the windows, and many of the frames, in town, rattled down ceilings, unsettled foundations, and spread general dismay. Women and children screamed, and rushed like maniacs into the streets, and fell fainting with terror there. For several hours the sh.e.l.ls continued to burst, and, I have heard, two or three children were killed with fragments of the projectiles. Two days after, I saw families suffering from hysterics on account of excessive fright, and several seemed to have become quite crazed therefrom.

Troubles of a Reporter.

One morning, hearing that John Morgan was at Elizabethtown, Ky., I determined to go as near as possible, and find out the condition of things, and see the fight that was in expectancy. Proceeding as far as I could by rail, I hired a carriage and horses, hoping to reach Munfordville in time for a big item.

I had proceeded some five miles when a party of eight men, whom I at once determined were guerrillas, rode hastily to the carriage, and demanded my credentials. I exhibited a free pa.s.s over the Ohio and Mississippi Railroad, four Provost-Marshal's pa.s.ses, a permission to leave the State of Ohio, also one to leave Kentucky, and a ten-cent Nashville bill. I was afraid to show them my letter from General Starbuck, of the Daily Times.

After looking at them awhile, they were pa.s.sed round to the balance of the fiendish-looking rascals, and I was kept in terrible suspense ten minutes longer.

I tried to get off several of my well-authenticated bad jokes, but I choked in the utterance, and my smile was no doubt a sardonic grin. I wiped the perspiration from my brow so frequently that one of the most intellectual of the "brutes" relieved the monotony of the occasion by observing that it was a very hot day, to which I acquiesced, feeling quite glad to have a guerrilla speak to a prisoner.

The countryman who had driven me thus far was speechless. He thought of his carriage and horses, and visions of their being immediately possessed by Morgan or Forrest had rendered him powerless. After a few questions as to where we left the train, and as to the number of pa.s.sengers on board, the citizen cavalry, or Union guards, as they proved to be, told us we might proceed, that we were all right, but to be very careful, as Forrest was reported near that region; they hardly thought it safe to attempt to get to Green River.

This brewed fresh trouble to me, the owner of the horses and carriage refusing positively to proceed on the journey. In vain I expostulated, telling him I would pay for his horses out of the sinking fund of the Times office, in case of their loss. It was no go, and I was compelled to retreat. I felt very much like building some fortifications in the woods, and making a stand, but, remembering the saying, "Discretion is the better part of valor," retreated, and fell back upon the National Hotel, in Louisville, with all the luxuries prepared by Charley Metcalf, Major Harrow, and Colonel Myers.[]

CHAPTER x.x.x.

A Reporter's Idea of Mules - Letter from Kentucky - Chaplain Gaddis turns Fireman - Gaddis and the Secesh Gra.s.s-widow.

A Reporter's Idea of Mules.

Junius Browne, describing a mule and his antics, says: "Now, be it known, I never had any faith in, though possessed of abundant commiseration for, a mule. I always sympathized with Sterne in his sentimental reverie over a dead a.s.s, but for a living one, I could never elevate my feeling of pity either into love or admiration. The mule in question, however, seemed to be possessed of gentle and kindly qualifications. He appeared to have reached that degree of culture that disarms viciousness and softens stubbornness into tractability. I believed the sober-looking animal devoid of tricks peculiar to his kind, such as attempting to run up dead walls in cities, and climb trees in the country, mistaking himself for a perpetual motion, and trying to kick Time through the front window of Eternity. I was deceived in the docile-looking brute. He secured me as his rider by false pretenses. He won my confidence, and betrayed it shamefully. That he was a good mule, in some respects, I'll willingly testify; but in others, he was deeply depraved. He exhibited a disposition undreamed of by me, unknown before in the brothers and sisters of his numerous family. In brief, he was a sectarian mule; a bigot that held narrow views on the subject of religion; believed Hebrew the vernacular of the devil, and regarded the Pa.s.sover with malevolent eyes. Confound such a creature, there was no hope for him! Who could expect to free him from his prejudices? He hated Moses for his fate, and Rebekkah for her forms of worship. He was insane on Judaism. He was a monomaniacal Gentile. Who could make out a mental diagnosis, or antic.i.p.ate the conduct of a mule afflicted with religious lunacy? Well for your correspondent had he discovered beforehand the bias of the brute, or suspected he was a quadruped zealot! Much might have been saved to him, and more to a number of unoffending gentlemen from church, as the sequel of my 'o'er true tale' will prove.

"The train got off about eight o'clock, on a cloudy, rainy, muddy, suicidal morning, and the material that composed it was worthy of ill.u.s.tration by Cruikshank. The procession was singularly varied, and supremely bizarre. There were the army-wagons, with sick and wounded soldiers, lumbering heavily along; the paroled prisoners wading through the mire; cotton-buyers, on foot and on horseback; members of the twelve tribes of Israel, with all possible modes of conveyance-in broken buggies, in dilapidated coaches, on bare-boned Rosinantes, on superannuated oxen, with fragmentary reins, rope reins, and no reins; spurring, swearing, hallooing, and gesticulating toward Memphis, in mortal terror lest the rebels would capture them again, and some of their hard-earned gains. Pauvre Juils! They would have excited the pity of a p.a.w.nbroker, if he had not known them, so frightened and anxious and disconsolate they looked. They could not have appeared more miserable if they had just learned that a bra.s.s watch they had sold for silver had turned out gold. The mule trotted along briskly and quietly enough until he beheld the grotesque vision of the heterogeneously-mounted Israelites. Then he displayed most extraordinary conduct. He pawed, he hawed, he kicked, all the while glancing at the sons of Jerusalem, and braying louder and more discordant every moment. I could not understand the mule's idiosyncrasies. Possibly, I thought, the doctrine of the metempsychosis may be true, and this brute, in the early stages of its development, once have been in love. He has a fit on him now, I fancied-he is once more possessed of a petticoat. Why not? If love converts men into a.s.ses, why should not a.s.ses, in their maddest moments, act like men in love? The mule's ire was culminating. I dug my spurs into his side. Vain effort! He was bent on mischief, and malignant against the persecuted race. If he had been in the House of Commons, (and many of his brethren are there,) I know he never would have voted for the admission of Jews into the English Parliament. Before I could antic.i.p.ate his movement, he rushed at several pedestrian Hebrews and kicked the wind out of their stomachs and three pairs of green spectacles from their noses. While endeavoring to recover their gla.s.ses, the mule knocked their hats off with his hoofs, and impaired the perfect semicircle of their proboscis, thus imitating the rebels-by destroying their bridges totally. The infuriated brute then ran for an old buggy, and, by supreme perseverance, kicked it over, and its two Hebrew occupants, into the road, where they fell, head-foremost, into the mire, growling profanely, like tigers that have learned German imperfectly, and were trying to swear, in choice Teutonic, about the peculiar qualities of Limburger cheese. In their sudden subversion, the Israelites dropped three fine watches out of their pockets, and the mule, with an unprecedented voracity, and determined on having a good time, ate the chronometers without any apparent detriment to digestion. The owners of the watches were frenzied. They glanced at my beast, and were about to devour him, hoping thereby to get the timepieces back. They did not violate the third commandment. They could not. They were too mad. They merely hissed rage, like a boiling tea-kettle, and grew purple in the face, and spun round in the road, from the excess of their wrath. Your correspondent was alarmed. He feared the mule would devour the Hebrews themselves, and he knew, if that were done, the animal would explode, and said animal had not been paid for. No time was given for reflection. Off ran the mule again, and made a pedal attack on a small Hebrew with a huge nasal organ, seated on top of a decayed coach, drawn by a horse, a cow, and three negroes. The quadruped made a herculean effort to kick the diminutive Shylock from his seat, but all in vain. The alt.i.tude was too great, and, in the midst of his exertions, he kicked himself off his feet, and fell over into a gulley, in which he alighted and stood on his head, as if he had been trained in a circus. The position was admirable, and so worthy of imitation that I stood on my head also, in two feet of mire, and beckoned with my boots for some pa.s.sing pedestrians to come and pull me out, as they would a radish from a kitchen-garden. The mule resumed his normal position speedily, and went off in his well-sustained character of a Jew-hunter. I was less fortunate. Three teamsters drew my boots from my feet, and tears from my eyes, before they could extricate me. And when I was removed from terra firma, I resembled a hickory stump dragged out by the roots, or a large cat-fish that had left his native element, and, seized with a fit of science, had endeavored to convert himself into a screw of the Artesian well. Placed feet downward on the ground again, I could not thank my deliverers or swear at the mule. I was dumb with astonishment and the mud, having swallowed eighteen ounces avoirdupois weight of the sacred soil of Mississippi while endeavoring to express my admiration of the performance of the mule. When I had removed the mire from my optics, in which cotton-seed would have grown freely, I beheld the mule in the dim distance. I could not see the brute plainly, but I could determine his course by the frequent falling of a human figure along the road. I knew the figures were those of his enemies, the much-abused Hebrews-that he was still wreaking his vengeance on the representatives of Israel-that he was fulfilling the unfortunate destiny of a misguided and merciless mule. Strange animal! Had the honest tradesman ever sold his grandfather a bogus watch? or inveigled his innocent sire into the mysterious precincts of a mock-auction? Alas! history does not record, and intuition will not reveal.

"My narrative is over. I did not go to Memphis. I returned, limping, to town, mentally ejaculating, like many adventurous gentlemen who, before me, have recklessly attempted to ride the peculiar beast, 'D--n a mule, any how!'"

Letters from Kentucky.

Early in September, 1862, I was sent by General Starbuck & Co., proprietors of the Cincinnati Daily Times, to reconnoiter in Kentucky. My first stop was a very pleasant one-at the Galt House, Louisville. From that place I wrote incident after incident concerning the most inhuman barbarity that had been enacted by citizen guerrillas and b.u.t.ternut soldiers. Louisville was in a foment of excitement, and if the rebels had only possessed the dash, there was scarce a day but they could have made a foray upon the "Galt," and captured from forty to fifty nice-looking officers, from brigadier-generals down to lieutenants.

It was supposed the Government could spare them; else why were they in the North, when they should have been in the South?

While there, I met Lieutenant Thomas S. Pennington, of Columbus, Ohio, a gentleman of intelligence, who told me HE SAW CITIZENS OF RICHMOND (Kentucky) who had pretended to be FRIENDLY WITH OUR MEN, SHOOT THEM DOWN AS THEY WERE RETREATING THROUGH THEIR STREETS. G. W. Baker, the regimental blacksmith of the 71st Indiana, who resides in Terre Haute, was in the city in charge of a number of horses left in Richmond. As our boys, worn-out and unarmed, retreated through the place, Mr. Baker says the men fired from their windows and doors. J. C. Haton, of Point Commerce, Indiana, also corroborates this fiendish piece of work upon the very men who had for days stood guard over their private property. All agree that more of our men were killed by these incarnate fiends in citizens' clothing than by the secesh in uniforms. Many of the pretended friendly citizens went out (says Lieutenant Pennington) to aid us, and then treacherously picked off our officers. Colonel Topkins, of the 71st Indiana, died n.o.bly, leading his men, who, although undisciplined, stood bravely by their gallant colonel while there was a shadow of hope. Twice was his horse shot beneath him; and mounting the third horse, he received two bullets. A number of his boys hastily gathered around him. His last words were: "Boys, did I do my duty?" With tears coursing their manly cheeks, they replied: "You did, Colonel." "Then," said he, "I die happy." Major Concklin, of the 71st, whom I reported wounded, died shortly afterward. Coming from Shelbyville, I pa.s.sed more than one hundred wagons, all heavily loaded with the wreck of the late battles, many of the wounded being brought to this city.

Chaplain Gaddis and the 2d Ohio.

Charley Bunker, in writing from the 2d Ohio, says: "This is the Sabbath, which, under present circ.u.mstances, can only be known by the neat appearance of the boys, in their shiny boots and clean, boiled shirts, as they make their early morning entree for company inspection of arms and accouterments, after which, all is dullness and vacuity. There is a sensible void, apparent to all, requiring something to remove the depressing dullness now surrounding them; and that something is to be found only in the presence of an accommodating and pleasing chaplain. Being to-day in the camp of the 2d Ohio Regiment, I observed this lack of a clerical adviser, in the absence of Brother M. P. Gaddis, the pleasing and affable chaplain of this gallant band of patriots. Brother Gaddis, being naturally of a pleasing and accommodating disposition, has won the confidence and favor of his entire command, and is an ever-welcome guest wherever he may chance to offer his presence. But one instance can be recorded wherein the parson has met with refusal of friendship and favor-and this can be credited to nothing but the present distracted condition of our unfortunate country. But, even in this instance, the kind and accommodating nature of the chaplain was fully manifested; forgetting all party or political prejudices, he viewed all the circ.u.mstances with a happy mind and Christian heart. The following are the circ.u.mstances of the above-mentioned case: On the first advance of the national army from Louisville toward the land of Dixie, a portion of our forces marched along the turnpike, pa.s.sing in their route the time-noted tavern-stand, distant some twenty miles north of Bowling Green, and known to all travelers as "Ball's Tavern." On the evening of the arrival of the forces under the immediate command of General Mitchel, at this place, one of the buildings attached to the premises accidently caught fire."

Chaplain Gaddis Turns Fireman.

The 2d Ohio Regiment being encamped near the premises, and observing the flames bursting from the roof of the building, Brother Gaddis, with a number of others, instantly made their way to the building to save the entire property from destruction. Entering the building, they made their way to the top of the house, where the fire was then raging, and commenced tearing away the wood-work near the devouring element. No water being convenient, they were obliged to resort to the snow as a subst.i.tute, which, at that time, covered the ground, to subdue the flames. Having partially succeeded in checking the raging of the fire, a small aperture was made in the roof of the building, and Dave Thomas, the sutler of the 2d Ohio, being the smallest one of the party, was thrust through the hole in the roof, and made a desperate onslaught upon the fire, while Brother Gaddis continued to hand up the snow in hats and caps to the daring firemen on the roof, until the fire was entirely extinguished. The following day Brother Gaddis, knowing the former reputation of the tavern, and, as is natural with all clerical exponents, preferring fried chicken to hog meat, and warm rolls to hard crackers, wended his way to the tavern, with a craving appet.i.te, and the full expectation of a kind welcome and an agreeable entertainment.

Before proceeding further, I must here state that, attached to these premises, is a noted subterranean recess, which has ever been the attraction of all travelers who have chanced to pa.s.s over this frequented thoroughfare, and is known as the "Diamond Cave."

Gaddis and the Secesh Gra.s.s-Widow.

Entering the dwelling, Brother Gaddis sought the landlady, Mrs. Proctor, or the late widow Bell, but now the wife of a Proctor, who, by-the-by, is at present to be found in the ranks of the rebel army, the madam's entire sympathies leading in the same direction. Addressing the landlady in his usual winning manner, Brother Gaddis requested the privilege of remaining as a guest of the house, and enjoying the luxuries of her well-stored larder and the comforts of her well-furnished rooms. What was the surprise of the chaplain to find in the landlady a real she-devil in politics, and utterly inexorable to all appeals to her charity and hospitality. In her remarks, she observed that "He was on the wrong side of the fence; that she had entertained, the day before the arrival of the Union troops, a company of three hundred gentlemen, (referring to that number of rebel cavalry,) and that they had treated her like a lady, and paid her for what they had received"-(in Confederate scrip). In reply, Brother Gaddis, not wishing to be deprived of her coveted entertainment, inquired "What was the difference which side of the fence he was on, so that he conducted himself with propriety, and paid her for her trouble?" asking if his money was not as good as that of those of whom she spoke. She answered, "No!" and positively refused to entertain any of the "hated Yankees" in her house.

"Turchin's Got Your Mule."

A planter came to camp one day, His n.i.g.g.e.rs for to find; His mules had also gone astray, And stock of every kind.

The planter tried to get them back, And thus was made a fool, For every one he met in camp Cried, "Mister, here's your mule."

Chorus.-Go back, go back, go back, old scamp, And don't be made a fool; Your n.i.g.g.e.rs they are all in camp, And Turchin's got your mule.

His corn and horses all were gone Within a day or two.

Again he went to Colonel Long, To see what he could do.

"I can not change what I have done, And won't be made a fool,"

Was all the answer he could get, The owner of the mule.

Chorus.-Go back, go back, go back, old scamp, And don't be made a fool; Your n.i.g.g.e.rs they are all in camp, And Turchin's got your mule.

And thus from place to place we go, The song is e'er the same; 'Tis not as once it used to be, For Morgan's lost his name.

He went up North, and there he stays, With stricken face, the fool; In Cincinnati now he cries, "My kingdom for a mule."

Chorus.-Go back, go back, etc.

CHAPTER x.x.xI.