We laid around in front of Nashville until something did happen sure enough. I was out on picket duty here some of the coldest nights I ever saw. We had to stay on picket two hours, then go back a short distance and thaw out. Our command was finally stationed on the extreme left. Our company was on a little round hill. We could not see the Yankees in our front on account of the timber and brush but we could see to our right nearly a mile. Now and then some Yankee cavalry would run in behind us and some of our command would get after them and run them back, but they would keep getting in our rear. That position was the only one I was ever in that a fellow could not get behind a tree. Late in the afternoon the Yankees charged our works about half a mile to our right, in full view of our position and some of them broke through our lines. Right then things began to happen. The break in our lines widened our as the Yankees pressed forward and they never stopped but kept right on. There was a big hill just ahead of them and our officers told us to fall back, which we did in a hurry, every man taking care of himself. After the Yankees broke our lines on our right they came right on until they got to the foot of the hill. Then they would go to forming on their colors. While that was going on the cavalry came in our rear and we had to run right through a lane of them. I never saw one of my company after we started back. When I got to the foot of the hill I started up it as fast as I could go. A fellow would be shot near me and fall and roll down the hill and I was thinking all the time that it would be my turn next. I had got to within about twenty steps of the top my left foot stopped a minie ball. It cut a hole through the leather of my shoe and sock and to the bone and stopped. I thought it was Kattis with me and threw down my gun and cartridge box and went on the best I could. Darkness soon overtook me and I finally came to the pike leading to Colombia, when I got on a caisson that came by. The drivers never saw me the whole night. I rode on the caisson till morning and my foot was so painful that I could hardly walk. The Yankees simply whipped us to a frazzle and that's a fact.

Hood ought to have been hung to lay around Nashville until Thomas got all the reinforcements he wanted. Hood's army was in no shape to fight this battle but Hood would fight whether he was able to do much or not.

The official returns of the Army of the Tennessee show that when Hood crossed the Tennessee river at Florence, Alabama, he had 26,000 of all arms. He assaulted Scholfield at Franklin, Tenn. Who had 16,000 men. Hood lost 4,500 here and moved on to Nashville with 21,000 men. He had sent Bates' division of about 1,600 to Murfreesboro, leaving about 21,000 men. Gen. Thomas had inside the works at Nashville about 30.000 and was reinforced to about 60,000. Hood's affective force did not exceed 20,000 men. Hood lost in these engagements, killed, wounded and missing 4,492, leaving Hood with less than 15,000 men.

Official returns made after Hood retreated to Tupelo, Miss. Showed an effective force of 16,931 men. Hood lost 50 pieces of artillery and had 59 left. Gen. Forrest captured and destroyed sixteen blockhouses and stockades, twenty bridges, four engines, one hundred cars, ten miles of track, captured 1,6oo prisoners, one hundred head of horses, mules and cattle. Hood was relieved of his command Jan. 25, 1865. I get this information from Battles and Sketches by Bloomfield Ridley, pages 440 and 441.

When we retreated to Columbia a lot of us got permission to visit our homes. We started early in the morning. There was about ten in the bunch. I was in bad shape to walk but I hobbled along as best I could. When we got out from our camp we got the direction to Tullahoma and took a straight course, regardless of roads. We did not want to travel the roads as we might come in contact with the Yankee cavalry. We got along all right, stopping with the people at night. Before we got near Tullahoma we got a man to pilot us across the railroad track two or three miles north of town as there was a lot of Yankees there. The man had a horse that I rode as I could not travel as well as the rest of the bunch. It was an awful cold night and the ground was covered with snow and ice. We had traveled two or three miles when we heard a lot of cavalry approaching, so we all hurried to one side of the road. The horse I was riding got loose and started for his home. We could hear him running on the frozen ground for a mile or so. We laid on the ice till the cavalry had passed. We found out afterwards that it was some Rebel cavalry going south.

We crossed the railroad all right and continued on our way until we arrived at the house of a man I knew who lived about ten miles from my home. We stayed the balance of the night with him and after breakfast crossed Duck river and on towards home, crossing the Manchester and Buck Grove road about a mile north of Manchester. We saw in crossing the road a lot of Yankee pickets about a quarter of a mile from where we crossed. I was then within two miles of home. When within a mile of home I met my mother who was then visiting a son, and went on home with her. . The boys who were still with me went on to their homes. I had not seen my mother since Bragg retreated from Tullahoma, or heard from her either. I stopped around home for some time keeping out of sight of the Yankees that frequently passed. I found everything in bad shape. The farm was all run down stock all gone, but the negroes were still at home and worked reasonably well, but they had little to live on. When they would raise a crop the soldiers would take it. I remember that the tableware consisted of tin plates and the tumblers were the lower parts of glass bottles cut in two by drawing a yarn string around them until they were hot and by pouring water on them they would come apart.

While we were in the trenches at Atlanta the authorities gave so much a pound for minie balls picked up in the rear of our main line, as our ammunition was running short and we wanted to send them back the first chance we got. Those that were whole did not have to be moulded again. Some of the men made good wages picking them up. When we would be in line of battle or in the ditches when some part of our army would be engaged at some part of the line the soldiers would write letters to friends on the line to find out whether any of our acquaintances was killed or wounded. We would get a small stick about six inches long and split one end far enough to put the envelope in, then take a string and tie around the split end to hold it secure, then toss it where we wanted it to go. Some one would toss it again and so on until it reached its destination. I have got an answer the same day.

I remember when we were in line of battle at Atlanta that the Georgia militia would be in reserve just behind our line, and they would have a negro cook to bring their rations to them at their line, and I have seen the negroes carry a frying pan up in front of their heads to keep the Yankees balls from hitting them. The balls would probably have glanced off anyway, as a negro's skull is almost bomb proof.

Soon after I got home, in 1865 I married and settled down at the old home. I looked after the family, my mother being a widow, as my father died when I was about ten years old. I reared a large family of children, two boys living in Iowa, one daughter in California, the rest that are living are near me in Tennessee.

One of the saddest things in the reconstruction madness was that the church tried to give the sanction of religion to the effort to steal our property and disfranchise us in favor of the carpet bagger, the sca'awag and the negro. The General Assembly of the Presbyterian church had been very bitter during the war denouncing rebellion as they called it, and in advising and encouraging the government in all its measures, however cruel and oppressive. In May, 1865 the assembly met in Pittsburg, Pa. And passed a series of resolutions practically suspending all Presbyterian ministers until they had repented of the sin of rebellion, and as those in the south, almost to a man was strong supporters of the Confederacy this action declared every pulpit vacant and meant that North had the right to take over all our churches with their property. The southern ministers, in 1861 had protested against the church taking sides in the political question dividing the country, and when the assembly demanded that all ministers under its jurisdiction should support the cause of the union those in the Confederate states withdrew and organized a separate church. This action at Pittsburgh in 1865 was thus a distinct refusal to acknowledge the southern General Assembly as having any rights that the northern body was bound to respect. The first Presbyterian church of Nashville was probably the first to resist the effort of the northern church to get posession. This church had called the Rev. R. F. Bunting, the noted chaplain of the Texas Rangers to be their pastor and he had gone to Ohio to meet his family and bring them to Nashville. In the meantime the Northern Board of Home Missions appointed as minister a Mr. Brown, to come to Nashville and take charge of the First church. The elders had been notified of his appointment and were expecting him any day, but they determined that he should not take charge of the church, so they employed the Rev. J. H. McKinly, D. D. to hold the church until Dr. Bunting arrived. The church building had been used as a hospital by the Federal troops and was in no condition to have church services in. Rev. McKinley had run the church for some time when Rev. Brown and Dr. Bunting both arrived about the same time. Both were getting ready to hold services. Mr. Brown saw at once that he had run against a snag. They told him that the First Presbyterians had never given up their organization, nor forfeited their rights and claimed the right to select their own minister. The matter was argued pro and con and the church frankly told Mr. Brown that they did not want nor would they have him as their minister. After he saw that the case was hopeless he got his Irish up and spoke something like this: "Gentlemen, you seem to forget that the rebellion is crushed and that Nashville is in the hands of the union army."

Prof. Cross, rising to his feet, drawing himself to his full stature said: "Mr. Brown, do you mean to threaten us? Is it your aim to use the military force to compel us to accept you as our minister?" Dr. Bunting preached that day. Mr. Brown appealed to Gen. Thomas who gave him to understand that he was not in it, and he went back north where he was probably liked better.

I stayed around home and kept out of sight of the Yankees that passed that way from one place to another, until a neighbor, a union man, advised me that I had better go with him to headquarters at Tullahoma, and report, which I did. This man's name was R. E. Lasiter, and he was a great help to all of us southern people. He had great influence with the Yankee commander and saved many lives. The commander was named Milroy and another was Gen. Payne. He was a regular mean one and if some one like Lasater did not interfere they generally got shot in short order after reporting to headquarters.

The authorities had me to report down at Tullahoma once a month, which I did for several times, when they sent me down to Nashville and for several days I had to report every day. They finally got tired of that, I suppose, and they sent me to the penitentiary for safe keeping. The prisoners in the pen were of all sorts and sizes, Rebels, Yankees, citizens, negroes and what not. There was one old citizen in there, I remember, who would stand around and cuss the Yankees from morning till night. There was also a Yankee who wore a Mother Hubbard made of a barrel, with a hole in the head of it just large enough for his head to go through, and it was labeled "Thief." He might have been the fellow who stole my mother's pie, I don't know. Then there was a lot of negroes with ball and chain on their legs. There was a long shed that we all would stay during the day and sleep in the building at night. We got two meals a day, one in the morning and one about 3 p.m. We would get bread and some other stuff and a lot of coffee if you had any vessel to put it in. If you did not, you got no coffee. At the afternoon meal you could get bread and beans or soup, if you had something to put them in. I had got a Yankee canteen and cut the top off, and fared very well after that.

Most everyone in the pen, I mean the war prisoners, gambled from morning till night. After remaining there two or three weeks myself and a number of others took some kind of an oath and came home. I was all right then and was not afraid to meet any Yankees that might be passing through the country. Then is when I settled down to farming.

When I was released from the pen I went up in the city to some of the bosses and showed them my papers, and told them I would like to get transportation home. The fellow asked me if I did not walk to Nashville and I told him that I walked in there with Gen. Hood. I thought that would be a point in my favor, but he told me I could walk home, which I did. I have thought ever since then he ought to have given me transportation as my feet got awfully blistered.

In Rhea county, Dayton, Tenn., was organized the only Ladies Company in all the land of Dixie. The object of this company was to visit relatives, friends and sweethearts who had enlisted in the several companies from Rhea county, taking them clothing, medicines, and provisions, performing the part of ministering angels. This company was organized in 1862 and was from the most prominent and respected families of Rhea county. Miss Mary McDonald was the captain, Miss Jennie Hoyal first lieutenant, Miss O. J. Lock second lieutenant, Miss R. G. Thomison, third lieutenant and Misses Kate Hoyal, Barbara Allen, Jane Kieth, Sadie Mitchell, Caroline McDonald, Annie Myers, Mary A. McDonald, Margaret Abel and Martha Easley were members.

After the Federals had occupied Tennessee Valley and reduced the women almost to starvation the Federal authorities, on February 5, 1865, sent and arrested all these young ladies who were members of the company and on the 6^th day of April, these young ladies were marched by an armed mounted guard to Smith's Cross Roads, now Dayton; thence in the night were marched to Belle Landing, on the Tennessee river, marching in mud over their shoe tops. Here they were made to wait all night long until an old boat known as the "Chicken Thief" came along when they were placed on board and locked up in the dining room and a guard placed at each door. They were taken to Chattanooga, sleeping on the bare floor. Upon their arrival at Chattanooga they were marched up to the provost marshal's office like a lot of criminals and required to take the oath of allegiance. Gen. Steadman, who was in charge of the Federal forces, on looking over these young ladies who were among the best of Rhea county, ordered them released and directed that they be served a splendid dinner and then be returned to their homes. He severely reprimanded the inferior officers for having arrested these girls, who were from 16 to 22 years old. Such is war--cruel war. The Yankee officers were generally kind to our women and some of the men were kind but others were very mean to the helpless women.

The following sketches of heroines of the South is by permission taken from "Battles and Sketches of the Army of the Tennessee," by Bromfield L. Ridley, of Murfreesboro, Tenn. The battle of Nashville gave us a heroine whose name Gen. Hood placed on the Roll of Honor, Miss Mary Bradford, now Mrs. John Johns, appeared when Gen. Thomas' army was pouring the musketry into us and Hood's army was in full retreat, rushed out into the thickest of the battle and begged the soldiers to stop and fight.

The famous raid of Gen. Stra?? With two thousand men, near Rome, Georgia, resulting in his capture through the intrepidity of Miss Emma Sausome was an instance of female prowess long to be remembered. Amid the flying bullets thrilled with patriotism she jumped on behind Gen. Forrest and piloted him across Black Creek. The legislature of Alabama presented her land and the people lauded her to the skies.

Another heroine in name only, yet a hero in fact appeared in Gen. Morgan's tramp on the line of Kentucky and Tennessee, grew to be a terror in that section. The boys, on account of his feminine features and flowing hair use to call him "Sissie." They dressed him up one day and introduced him to Gen. Morgan as Miss Sue Munday. It turned out to be Jerome Clark, son of Hector Clark, of Franklin, Kentucky, but after this he was known only as Sue Munday. He was a member of the old squadron and on account of the insults heaped upon his family he was a terror to every one who wore the blue that came his way.

At one time in 1863, says Gen. Colman, of the Indian Territory, Miss Press Whitley, aged 19, of Knob-noster, a Federal post in Missouri rode on horseback from her home 60 miles carrying news to the intrepid Quantrell and at another time, when the Federals were at the home of her father, Capt. Wm. Whitley in search of contraband goods, she shot a lieutenant, wounded a private and made her escape. They outlawed her, her uncle was shot from ambush, breaking his under jaw and cutting off his tongue. Miss Whitley rode 20 miles at night, found her uncle, carried him home and hid him in an old well until he had recovered sufficiently to ride away. The Federal authorities banished her from the state.

The old scouts in the west will remember two other heroines through whose aid we were often saved from attack. Miss Kate Patterson, now Mrs. Kyle, of Luvergne, Tenn, and Miss Robbie Woodruff, who lived ten miles from Nashville. They would go into Nashville and get what information was needed and place it in a designated tree or log to be conveyed to us by our scouts. I have often wondered if that diagram of the works around Nashville found upon the person of Sam Davis was not the work of the young ladies, notwithstanding it was the impression that it was stolen from Gen. Dodges table by a negro boy.

But I have a heroine of the mountains who developed in war times, yet on account of her obscure habitation and the bitter heart burnings existing between the two sections so evenly divided that history has not given her the merited fame. I got her record from the Rev. J. H. Nicholds, who lived near her in Putman county, three miles from Cookville, Tenn. Her name was Miss Mariana Gunter; now Mrs. Joseph Harris. Her father, Larkin Gunter, was a southern man, and some bushwhackers claiming to belong to the Federal army, resolved to kill him. One night three of them, Mixwell, Miller and Patton, visited him at their home and told him in the presence of his family that his time had come to die. They took him from the house and in a short time this girl of 17 heard the blows and her old father's groans, when she rushed to the woodpile, got an ax and hurriedly approached the scene. She killed two with the ax and broke the third one's arm and he fled in a hurry, but afterwards died from his wound. She then lifted her father up and carried him to the house. Soon he sought and obtained protection from the Federal general at Nashville. She said afterwards that upon hearing her father's groans she grew frantic and does not know to this good day how she managed it. This is the greatest achievement of female heroism ever recorded and places Miss Gunter on a pinnacle of glory that belongs not only to patriotism but to the grandeur of filial devotion, the tie that stretches from the cradle to the grave, spans the heavens and is riveted through eternity to the throne of God.

They talk of Sheridan's ride, but let me tell you on one that strips it of its grandeur. The famous run of Miss Antoinette Polk, displaying a heroism worthy of imperishable record. She was on the Hampshire turnpike, a few miles from Columbia, Tenn., when some one informed her of the Federals contemplated raid upon her father's home on the Mt. Pleasant pike, five miles across, said pike forming an obtuse angle from Columbia. She knew that some soldier friends at her father's would be captured unless they had notice and in order to inform them she had to go across the angle which was barricaded with high rails and rock fences. There was no more superb equestrienne in the valley of the Tennessee, of magnificent physique and she had a thoroughbred horse trained to do her bidding. She started, her horse leaped the fences like a deer and came out in front of the troopers four miles from her home. They took after her but her foaming steed was so fleet of foot that she got away from them and saved her friends from capture.

I remember another heroine. Lieut. Buford, of an Arkansas regiment. She stepped and walked, the personification of a soldier boy, had won her spurs at the battle of Bull Run, Shiloh and Ft. Donelson and was promoted for gallantry. One evening she came to Gen. Steward's headquarters at Tyner's station with an order from Major Kinlock Folconet to report for duty as a scout but upon finding that he was a woman she was sent back and the order was revoked. She has written a book. In point of devotion to duty, nursing our soldiers in distress, the sick and wounded, the women of the south were all Florence Nightengales. It would be invidious to discriminate but I will mention some other noteworthy deeds.

I have another heroine, bless her sweet soul. I have forgotten her name. One day Gen. Morgan sent a squad of us on a scout and we were pursued by Col. Funkerhauser's regiment in Denny's bend of the Cumberland river near Rome, Tennessee. My heroine, a girl of 14 directed us to Bradley's Island for safety, a place of about sixty acres in cultivation. On the river side it was encircled by a sand bar with driftwood lodged on an occasional tree. This sweet little girl brought us a square meal and watched like a hawk for our safety during the day. Hinking that it was only a foraging party and that they were gone, we ventured to leave during the afternoon, but run into them and a running fire ensued. After eluding pursuit we concluded to go back. In a short time a company of Federals appeared on the island, evidently having tracked our horses. We left our horses without hitching them and took shelter under a big fallen tree. The troopers were within ten steps of us at the time. We could hear them distinctly. One fellow said, "If we catch them this is a good place to hang them." Another one said, "Let's go into the drift wood on the sand bar and bag them." Our hearts throbbed and our legs trembled for we thought that we were gone. One of our squad said, "Let's give up," but the rest of us were too scared to answer, and they passed on without discovering us.

Our heroine came to us after nightfall she called and we answered. She was happy over our escape and said she saw them leaving and seeing no prisoners she had mounted her horse and followed them to the toll gate two miles away and learned that they had returned to Lebanon, after which she brought our supper and put us on a safe road. Such heroines the soldiers often met with in disputed territory between contending armies. They evidenced a devotion to country that only might and not right could subdue.

There was another class more nearly comporting with the female character--sock knitters, clothes makers, needle pliers, God servers, rebelling in sentiment, in touch with the times. From wealth they drank the dregs of poverty's cup until now nearly fifty years, by frugality, they have been instrumental in our Southland's blessed resurrection. Female clerks, teachers, stenographers, from authoresses to cooks, they attest the courage and praiseworthiness that exceeds belicose valor.

The following account of heroism in saving her father's life is contributed by J. M. Bedichek, brother of the heroine, and now principal of the Eddy Literary Scientific Institute of Eddy, Texas. Mr. Bedichek was under Gen. F. M. Cockrell, in the 1^st Missouri Brigade. His sister and father were left alone, their mother having died before the war. It was on the night of the 6^th of June, 1865, when the most cruel phase of horrible war was seen nightly in ghastly murders and lurid flames, that a band of soldiers was seen in our front yard seven miles north of Warrensburg, Johnson county, Missouri. A knock was heard at the door and Sister Mary Bedichek, then 16 years old, asked, "Who is there?" "Friends," said a voice outside. "What do you want?" she asked. "We want to come in and warm." "You have guns?" "Yes." "If you will leave your guns outside you may come in," she said. "Oh, well, if that will please you, we will do so," whereupon the leader came in. No others appeared to care to enter and sister closed the door and locked it. The soldier asked if there were any bushwhackers in the house. "There's no one but Father and I," she said. "Your two brothers are in the Rebel army, 'eh?" "Yes." A search of the room by the dim light of the fire place was made. It was near bed time, and when the militiaman had satisfied himself that nobody but father and sister were in the house he said: "Old man, I have come to kill you," drawing his pistol at the same time. "Ah!" As father made this laconic response he grabbed the pistol and a most terrible scuffle ensued. The assailant wrested the pistol out of father's hand and began to beat him over the head with the pistol. Sister Mary, not idle, ran to the kitchen, seized a corn knife, a very large one, and directed an effectual blow at the uplifted arm and with rapid blows chopped his head until he cried for help, saying "For God's sake let me out," where upon one of the party outside ran to the north door, opened it, gun in hand and tried to see which one to shoot. My sister, hearing him seized the gun with her left hand and dealt him a blow. He jerked the gun from her and she gave him another blow and pushed him out of the house. She then locked the door and put the window shades down so they could not see where to shoot. Those on the south of the house opened fire at the window and with a beam broke the door down. No one attempted to come in but the wounded man staggered to the door and down the steps. Some one asked if he was hurt and he said, "I am a dead man." He fell within ten steps of the door and they took him away.

Father sent word to Warrensberg that his house had been attacked and Col. Thos. Crittenden, of the Federal army, later democratic governor of Missouri, sent out a scout under Capt. Box. As they approached the house and were about to enter the yard he ordered them to halt outside. Sister thought they had come for revenge and she procured a long dagger, hid it in the folds of her dress and waited at the door for the approach of the captain.

"Well," said the captain, "you have had a battle here I understand. It looks very much like it from the looks of the room." There was blood, hair, a hat, gloves, etc. strewn over the house. The captain said: "Tell me about it." As sister was telling her story the company came up close in order to catch what was said. One of the soldiers said, "I wish she had killed the other one too." Another said, "I wish she had killed the whole outfit."

Col. Crittenden made my sister a present of a fine pistol as a mark of her heroism and to emphasize his disapproval of murdering old men by brutal soldiers and bushwhackers. This account is as father and sister told me soon after the terrible tragedy.

Signed J. M. Bedeker.

When I got home there was just one mare on the place and she was two years past and that was the stock I made the first crop with.

After my return home the negroes had a stock of fodder which they had hid in the woods that had not been taken. The only kind of plow I had to do the breaking up of the land and the cultivation of my crop was an old "bull tongue" plow. Some of our people had to go forty miles to get corn to make a crop with and for bread. When I returned and started my crop the negroes all wanted to start out for themselves, which they did. I offered my negro man a 30 acre piece of land but he refused the offer and the whole batch started out on their own resources except a negro girl who lived with our family until her death only a few years ago.

We suffered many privations during those years. Our women had to wear homemade clothing. The first suit I had after my return was homemade. My mother spun the thread and then wove it and a neighbor lady made the suit. My over coat was made of a Yankee blanket, but we made out that way until we could do better. When anyone was lucky enough to have bacon they had to hide it to keep the Yankees from stealing it. Some would hang it in the tops of the trees in the summer and some would put it in an ash hopper and cover it with ashes.

I have been trying ever since the war to find the Yankee that took a family pie my mother was cooking on the fire place. I don't want to hurt him but simply to shake hands with a good forager. Mother was cooking the pie and watching it very closely, and this Yankee was watching her. He finally walked into another room and returning told her that a soldier was going through a bureau in another room. My mother went in to see about it but no one was in the room. When she returned the fellow was going out of the gate with oven, pie and all. After the cavalry had gone on, my mother went up where they had stopped to feed and got her oven. I would like to hear from that fellow if he is living. It is not too late to apologize for the trick he played.

Some time after I had returned from prison and the war had ended and Rebel soldiers commenced passing on their homes. The reconstruction set in. Gov. Brownlow, the military governor of the state set in to reconstruct us old Rebels and try to make good citizens out of us. He would appoint three good union men to run our county business. Our county got three very good men to act as commissioners who did reasonably well with the people. The governor appointed a son-in-law of President Johnson from East Tennessee to be our circuit judge and he appointed a little Yankee carpetbagger to be our attorney general and the way they run our courts was a sight. Judge Patterson was very near deaf. I remember on one occasion a Rebel lawyer got up to make a speech in a certain case and in starting out made the remark to the jury that the old thing sitting as judge was a deaf old fool, and everybody in court laughed. The judge leaned over the desk with hand to his ear and asked what was the matter and the lawyer turned around and said "Just a little levity, Judge," and proceeded with his argument.

Everyone summoned as a juror was asked under oath whether he was a Ku Klux or not. A Ku Klux could not sit on a jury if they knew it. They never found a Ku Klux but there was plenty of them in the county.

Every white man that was old enough to vote had to have a certificate from one of Gov. Brownlow's appointees before he could vote but the negro would vote, and a good republican could vote every one of them and the same is done to this good day. Every man, white or black, has to have a poll tax receipt before he can vote, and the negroes generally wait until about election time in order to get some good republican to pay his poll tax and there are some low down whites that do the same. That kind of voter ought to be barred from voting.

After several years we all got things in shape so we could vote and you ought to see the carpetbaggers retire, and the most of them have been taking back seats ever since. We finally got to be good citizens and have been attending to our own affairs ourselves.

After the negroes got their freedom it made awful fools out of them. That is what brought the Ku Klux into existence. We had to have something like that to handle them. When a company of the Klan wanted to scare them they would go to a negro house in the night with the scaryest clothing imaginable and call for a drink of water. The negro would bring out a dipper and the Ku Klux would drink and call for more and keep calling for more and keep calling for more and keep calling, then he would finally ask for the bucket full and he would then tell the negro that was the first drink he had since he was killed at Shiloh. Negroes are very superstitious and they would lay very low after that. The Ku Klux would whip one once in a while. I knew of their whipping mean white men too. There was a white man living in this county who was so mean and stingy that he would not buy his daughter books to go to school or clothing to dress her decently. Well, the Klan went to see him one night and told him they would be back in a week and if he did not have things in shape they would attend to him. He told them they need not return as he would get the necessary articles at once, and he did.

There was an old couple of white people living near me, each being over 80 years of age. I called to see them one morning while they were eating breakfast and I saw some of the little negroes go to the table while the old folks were eating and grab a handful of fried eggs. It was not long after that the Ku Klux called and whipped a couple of the ring leaders. I never heard of any more complaints against the negroes. The threshing they received seemed to make good citizens out of them.

In writing these sketches, before I close, I want to chronicle the death of Sam Davis, a Tennessee hero. The following condensed sketch was furnished by Joshua Brown, of New York city, who was a member of the 2^nd Kentucky cavalry of the C. S. A. and was a fellow scout of Sam Davis. He says, "As you requested I will give you my personal recollections of the capture, imprisonment and execution of Sam Davis, one of the noblest patriots that ever died for his country. Other patriots have died for their country. Capt. Morton Williams and Lieut. Peters who were hanged at Franklin, Tenn. by the Federals knew that death was inevitable and died like brave soldiers, but Davis had continuance of life, pardon and a pass offered him through the lines, if he would only reveal where he got the information and papers that were found on his person and in his saddle seat, but he knew that the man who gave them to him was at that moment in jail with him, Col. Shaw, chief of Bragg's scouts, who had charge of the secret service of the Army of the Tennessee. Gen. Bragg had sent the scouts into Middle Tennessee to see what the Federal army was doing and to report the same to him, at Caattanooga by courier. When we received our orders we were told it was a very serious undertaking and they expected but few of us to return. After the scouts had been in Tennessee about ten days we watched the 16^th corps, commanded by Gen. Dodge, move up from Corinth, Miss. To Pulaski, Tenn. We agreed that we would leave for the south on the 19^th of November, 1863. A number had been captured and several killed. We were to start that night each for himself. Each had his own information, but I did not write it down or make a memorandum of it for fear of being captured. We had counted every regiment and all the artillery of the 16^th corps and had found out that they were moving to Chattanooga. Late in the afternoon we started out and ran into the 7^th Kansas cavalry, known as the "Kansas Jayhawkers." When we were told what regiment had captured us we thought our time had come.

We were taken to Pulaski, about fifteen miles away and put into jail where several other prisoners had been sent. Among them was Sam Davis. I talked with him over our prospects of imprisonment and escape, which were very gloomy. Davis said they had searched him and found some papers on him and that he had been taken to general headquarters and that they had found in his saddle seat maps and descriptions of the fortifications at Nashville and at other points, and an exact report of the Federal army in Tennessee. They found in his boot this letter which was intended for Gen. Bragg.

Giles County, Tenn. Nov. 18, 1863. Col. A. McKinstry, Prov. Marshal Gen. Army of the Tennessee, Chattanooga, Tenn.

Dear Sir:--

I send you seven Nashville papers, three Louisville papers and one Cincinnati paper. I also send for Gen. Bragg three wash balls of soap, three tooth brushes, and two blank books. I could not get a larger size diary for him I will send a pair of shoes and slippers and some more soap, gloves and socks soon. The Yankees are still camped on the line of the Tennessee & Alabama railroad. Gen. Dodge's headquarters are at Pulaski. His main force is camped from that place to Lynville, some at Elk river and two regiments at Athens, Ala. Gen. Dodge has issued an order to the people of those counties to report all stock, grain and forage to him and he will give vouchers for it, upon refusal to report that he will take it without pay. They are now taking all they can find. Gen. Dodge says he knows they are all southern and does not ask them to swear to a lie. All the spare forces around Nashville are being sent to McMinnville. Six batteries and twelve Parrot guns were sent forward on the 14^th, 15^th and 16^th. It is understood that it is to work in front. Telegrams suppressed. Davis has returned, Gregg has gone below. Everything is beginning to work better. I send Roberts with things for you and Gen. Bragg with dispatches. I think the Yankees will stay. Everything looks that way. I understand that part of Sherman's army has reached Shelbyville. I hope to be able to post you soon. The dispatches I sent you on the 7^th reached Decatur on the 10^th.

Here is Sam Davis' pass:

Headquarters Bragg's Scouts

Middle Tennessee, Sept. 25, 1863

Samuel Davis has permission to pass anywhere in Middle or south of the Tennessee river as he may see proper.

By order of Gen. Bragg

F. Coleman, Comdg. Scouts

The next morning Davis was again taken to Gen. Dodge's headquarters and this is what took place between them, as Gen. Dodge told me recently. Gen. Dodge says he took Davis into his private office and told him it was a very serious charge against him, that he was a spy, and what was found upon his person showed that he had accurate information regarding my army and I must know where he obtained it. I told him he was a young man and he seemed not to realize the danger he was in. Up to that time he had said nothing, but he replied in the most respectful and dignified manner. "Gen. Dodge, I realize the danger of my situation and am willing to take the consequences."

I then asked him to give me the name of the party who gave him the information as I knew it must be some one near headquarters or who had the confidence of my staff officers and repeated that I meant to know the source from which the information came. I told him I would have to call a court martial and have him tried for his life and from the proof we had we would be compelled to convict him.

He replied, "I know that. I know I will have to die, and I will not tell where I got the information. There is no power on earth that can make me tell it. You, General, are doing your duty as a soldier. I am doing my duty to my country and my God."

I plead with him, said Gen. Dodge, and urged him with all the power I possessed to give me some chance to save his life, for I discovered that he was a most admirable young man, with the highest character and strictest integrity. Davis then said "It is useless for you to talk to me. I do not intend to do it. You may court martial me and do anything else you like, but I will not betray the trust reposed in me."

He thanked me for the interest I had taken in him and I sent him back to prison and immediately called a court martial to try him.

The commission that sat on the case when Sam Davis was tried was composed of the following: Col. Madison Miller, 18^th Missouri; Lieut-Col. Thos. W. Gains, 50^th Missouri Inf.; Mayor Lathrop, 39^th Iowa Inft.; Judge Advocate.

After hearing the evidence the following sentence was pronounced:

"The commission do hereby sentence him, the said Samuel Davis, of Colman's Scouts, of the so-called Confederate States to be hanged by the neck until dead, at such time and place as the commanding general shall direct, two thirds of the commission approving. The sentence will be carried into effect on Friday, November 27, 1863 between the hours of 10 a. m. and 2 p. m. Brigadier General T. W. Sweeny, commanding the division will cause the necessary arrangements to be made to carry out this order in the proper manner."

Capt. Armstrong informed Davis of his sentence by the court martial. He was surprised at the severity of his sentence, expecting to be shot not thinking that they would hang him, but he showed no fear and resigned himself to his fate as only brave men can. That night he wrote the following letter to his mother.

Pulaski, Tenn. Nov. 26, 1863.

Dear Mother,

Oh, how painful it is to write you. I have got to die tomorrow morning, to be hanged by the Federals. Mother, do not grieve for me. I must bid you good by forever more. Mother, I do not fear to die. Give my love to all.

Your son

Samuel Davis

Mother, tell the children all to be good. I wish I could see you all once more, but I never will any more. Mother and Father don't forget me. Think of me when I am dead but do not grieve for me, it will not do any good. Father, you can send after my remains if you want to do so. They will be at Pulaski, Tenn. South of Columbia.

He was then taken back to his cell in jail and we did not see anything more of him until Thursday morning. The day before his execution we moved into the court house, about 100 feet from the jail. Davis was handcuffed and brought in just as we were eating breakfast. I gave him some meat and he thanked me for it. The guard was then doubled around the jail and we all bade him good bye.

Next morning, Friday, Nov. 29^th at 10 o'clock we heard the drums and a regiment of infantry came marching down the street to the jail. A wagon and a coffin in it was driven up and the Provost Marshal went in the jail and brought Davis out. He stepped into the wagon and looked around at us and seeing us at the windows bowed to us his last farewell. He was dressed in a dark brown overcoat such as many of us had captured and dyed brown. He sat down on the coffin and the regiment moved off to the suburbs of the town where the gallows had been erected. Upon reaching the gallows he stepped from the wagon and took a seat on a bench under a tree. He asked Capt. Armstrong how long he had to live and he replied, "Fifteen minutes." He then asked the Captain the news. He told him of the battle of Missionary Ridge and that the Confederates had been defeated at which he expressed his regret and said, "The boys will have to fight the battles without me."

Captain Armstrong then said: "I regret to do this. I feel that I had almost rather die myself than to do what I have to do."

Davis replied, "I do not think hard of you. You are only doing your duty."

Gen. Dodge still had hopes that Davis would recant when he saw death staring him in the face and that he would reveal the name of the traitor in his camp. He sent Capt. Chickasaw, of his staff, to Davis. He rapidly approached the scaffold, jumped from his horse and went directly to Davis and asked him if it would not be better to tell who gave him the information in the documents found on him, as it was not yet too late.

And now, in his last extremity, Davis turned to him and said:

"If I had a thousand lives I would lose them all here before I would betray my friends or the confidence of my informer."

Davis then requested Capt. Chickasaw to thank Gen. Dodge for his efforts to save him, but to report that he would not accept the terms. Turning to the chaplain he gave him a few keepsakes to send to his mother and then said to the Provost Marshal, "I am ready," ascended the scaffold and stepped upon the trap.

Thus passed away one of the noblest and most sublime characters known in history and in future ages this act will be pointed out as one most worthy of emulation.

In a private letter with this sketch Comrade Brown writes that Gen. Dodge has been very kind and has given every assistance in getting reports from the war department and that he, Gen. Dodge hopes that the citizens will build a monument to Davis in the capitol square at Nashville and thinks that it should be of bronze, representing a Confederate soldier. The monument has been erected as suggested and one of the grandest things about the whole affair is that Gen. Dodge subscribed $10 as a contribution toward the fund which was raised to build it.

Although in my four years experience in the war between the states I saw many sad things. I never saw a sadder thing than happened near Dalton, Georgia, while we were in winter quarters there. I have seen dead soldiers on the battle field so thick that you could walk long distances upon them, have witnessed heartrending scenes in the hospitals but never anything more affecting than this.

We had erected an arbor for devotional services and a protracted meeting was going on. Our chaplains were conducting these meetings and the men of our and other commands were showing great interest in the services, many having embraced religion and come forward for prayer.

One night while these services were going on in the arbor, after the captain had preached an excellent sermon he called upon the penitents to come forward to the altar. Many men came forward and were kneeling, the alter being full. Strong men were bowed asking forgiveness for their sins when a large tree standing near, which had got on fire at the stump, burned off and fell right across the arbor where the penitents were upon their knees in prayer, killing nine of them instantly. It fell right along the log upon which they had their heads, crushing them to a pulp.

I attended the funeral the next day when the nine were buried in one square grave with the honors of war, a platoon of soldiers firing volleys over the grave.

This concludes my story of my experiences in the civil war. The sufferings and privations of the men in the field, our mothers, sisters and daughters at home can never be told at least by my feeble pen. A new South has been born, a new generation has come upon the field of action and we all hope there may never be another call to arms but that all differences may be settled without the shedding of blood. With best wishes to every reader, I am

Fraternally yours,

R. C. CARDEN

Postscript to the above articles; written by R.C. Carden
    As a kind of postscript, I wish to speak of my visit to Iowa in the spring of 1911 and of Dr. M.R. Hammer's visit to Tennessee in September of last year.  I have two sons in Iowa and in May, 1911 I concluded to visit them and to see a part of the north and ascertain how an old ex-Rebel would be received there, so about the first of May I boarded the train at Manchester, Tenn. and the next night arrived at Newton, Iowa.  I found that Iowa has the finest farming country I ever saw, and I was much surprised to find that the old Yankee boys were so kind and pleasant to an old Johnny.  I was treated fine by almost everyone of them.  However I found two or three who were still thirsty for Rebel blood, but I found also that they were like some we have in the south, they saw but little or no blood during the war.  I met one old follow at the fair grounds at Newton, and when I told him that I was an old Rebel he remarked that he was a federal soldier and "We whipped you."  I said, "Yes, you did."  He kept on giving his experience and finally told me that he was one of a home guard and that he had never left Jasper county.  I don't guess that he got but few Rebels during the war.  Another one or two were in the south but were not doing the south much damage.  Only one did and he told me that he belonged to the force that built roads, etc.  He told me his General was a good man to the southerners, and one day he said the General ordered them not to burn a certain house, but he burned it anyway.
    Such old boys as Tommy Rodgers, George Early, Rev. Porter, John Moore and others that I met at Newton and Reasnor, and P.D. Swick of Boone were quite different.  I never met nicer or more courteous gentlemen than these anywhere.
    Of the citizens in Jasper county I especially would mention for kindness shown were Dr. M.R. Hammer, Mr. Marshall, of Marshall & Johnson, Ira Livingston, Bates, the photographer, and many others.
    While in Jasper county the old Yankee boys requested me to decorate the grave of an old Rebel who was buried in the Newton cemetery and another one about twelve miles in the country and through the courtesy of Dr. Hammer I went there with another old Rebel and others, decorated the graves and returned in time to go with the old union soldiers to decorate the graves of their dead.
    I got through with my visit north and returned to my home in Tennessee about the 20th of July, 1911.
    In September, 1911, Dr. Hammer visited me in Tennessee.  I met him in Nashville at the state fair and we visited the battleground at Franklin, and saw the brick smoke house at the Carter house, which is still standing and is kept just as it was when the battle was fought.  It was just behind the Yankee breastworks and I think more than a hundred balls struck the building, the holes made by the balls being still there.
    After we had looked over the battlefield we returned to Nashville and went out about twelve miles to the Confederate Soldiers Home.  We were shown through it and found everything they kept in nice shape and all the old Johnnies seemed pleased with their lot.
    From there we went to "The Hermitage," the home of Andrew Jackson.  I had often wished to see the place but I suppose I never would have had that pleasure if the Doctor had not just made me go with him, and I was glad I went.  There is a family living there that cares for the house and shows one all through it for 25 cents.  A notice is put up at every door describing what room was ocupied by each of the Jackson family.  There was one room that was occupied by Gen. Lafayette when he visited Gen. Jackson.  They showed Gen. Jackson's room and Mrs. Jackson's also.  I noticed that the bedsteads were old fashioned, very high and the posts were big ones, very stylish in their day.  The beds were made up with covers on them.  I saw Gen. Jackson's cloak on a rocker in his room.
    The doors had iron bars to keep one from going in, but one could see everything in the rooms from there.  We went into the kitchen with the old fire place well filled with wood on the old-fashioned dog irons and there was a crane with a pot on it so that one could swing the pot around and looked after in cooking.  We saw the barouche or vehicle the General used in travelling to Nashville and other places.  It was a very large concern and the driver's seat was high up.  We went to the garden where General and Mrs. Jackson are buried.  An old negro servant was buried close beside them.  A marble slab over his grave told who he was, when he died, etc.
    Doctor and I never made a visit anywhere that we enjoyed better.  We gathered flowers and other relics at the grave as souvenirs.  This would be a fine trip for anyone who has never been out there.  This ends my story.
Respectfully,
R.C. CARDEN
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