Incidents of the War: Humorous, Pathetic, and Descriptive Part 32

In a few days all was quiet on the Harpeth, and again I was with the boys, who all made the most ample apologies, and expressed sorrow for what had occurred.

Colonel Brownlow called upon me the next day, in condolence, renewing the invitation, but the remembrance of my former reception deterred me from making the journey. Some weeks after the occurrence, I was commissioned by the proprietors of the Cincinnati _Commercial_ to proceed to Murfreesboro as their "Special," and telegraphed to General Garfield for the requisite permission. Judge of my surprise upon receiving the following dispatch from General Garfield:

Head-quarters Army of the c.u.mberland, Murfreesboro, _May 10, 1863_.

Alf Burnett--_Sir_: The commanding General has heard of the occurrence at Triune, and refuses you permission to come to Murfreesboro.

J. A. GARFIELD, _Brigadier-General and Chief of Staff_.

I immediately dispatched a batch of letters from prominent Generals; also sent forward several fine introductory letters that I held, addressed to General Rosecrans and General Garfield. A regular diplomatic correspondence was opened, and, after hearing the evidence, I received a telegram to this effect:

Alf Burnett--Report forthwith at these Head-quarters.

J. A. GARFIELD.

By order of Major-General Rosecrans.

I arrived at Murfreesboro the following day, but did not "_report_,"

for I felt somewhat chagrined at the General's crediting the stories that he had heard. The succeeding day, however, I met General Alex McCook, and his brother, the gallant Colonel Dan McCook, who told me that the General wanted to see me immediately; that the greatest anxiety was felt at head-quarters for my appearance; that I had been the subject of conversation for an hour past. I immediately dismounted and walked into the house, presenting my card to an orderly, and, in a moment, General Garfield came to the door with a cordial welcome and a hearty laugh, took me by the hand and introduced the "Preacher from Hepsidam" to Major-General Rosecrans. When this was done, another outburst of laughter was the result.

Major-General Turchin, Major-General Thomas, and the staffs of those heroes were present. General Garfield and "Old Rosey" formed the party whom I was apprised were a court-martial now duly convened to try the "Preacher from Hepsidam." General R. asking me if I was ready for trial, I told him I was, if he had a pair of spectacles in the "court"

room. So he called the court to order, sent for a few of his staff, who were absent, and requested General Garfield to get me a pair of spectacles from an adjoining room. General Rosecrans took advantage of General Garfield's absence to tell me that General Garfield had once been a "Hard-sh.e.l.l" Baptist preacher, and requested me, if I could, by any possibility, "bring him in," to do so. The sermon was given, and, afterward, the "DEBATE BETWEEN SLABSIDES AND GARROTTE," together with other pieces. At the conclusion of the "trial," the court unanimously resolved that I should not only be honorably acquitted of all charges, but that I was henceforth to be allowed the freedom of the Army of the c.u.mberland. "And," said the General, "in explanation of my dispatch to you, refusing you permission to come here, some one told me you were giving a mock-religious sermon which so disgusted the religious sensibilities of the E. T. C. that they mobbed you; and I thought if you could do any thing to shock their feelings, you must be a devil with '_four horns_;' but, with such a face as you make, no wonder they were deceived."

OLD STONNICKER DRUMMED OUT OF CAMP.

The ill.u.s.tration of this scene will be recognized by thousands of our soldier-boys who were occupiers of Virginia soil, upon the banks of the Elkwater, for some months during the summer and fall of 1861. Old Stonnicker's was a name familiar as a household word, and many were the pranks played upon the poor old man. Ignorant, beyond description, he yet had twice been a "justice" of the peace, and, as he said, "sot on the bench."

The scene ill.u.s.trated is where Stonnicker was arrested by a "special order" from the 6th Ohio, and tried by an impromptu court-martial, for selling liquor to soldiers. The mock-trial took place amid the most grotesque queries and absurd improvised telegraph dispatches--the hand-writing of the telegraphic dispatches being sworn to as that of the individuals from whom they were just received, the oath being, "As they solemnly _hoped for the success of the Southern Confederacy_."

The poor wretch had actually been detected in selling, contrary to express orders, liquor to soldiers. He employed counsel, but, notwithstanding all they could do, he was sentenced, by Major Christopher, to die. He received his sentence with moanings and anguish; he was too frightened to notice the smiles or laughter of the crowd. He got on his knees and begged for mercy, and, after an hour of suspense, the Court relented, and commuted the sentence to being drummed out of camp. It is at this juncture the artist has seized the occasion to ill.u.s.trate the scene.

Stonnicker is a by-word to all the boys of Elkwater notoriety to this day, and was, at one time, "_a pa.s.sword_" at Louisville.

Poor Stonnicker is dead. In trying, last fall, to ford that mad torrent, Elkwater, during a storm, he was swept from his horse and drowned.

Andy Hall, Ned Shoemaker, Doctor Ames, and other notables of the "times that tried men's _soles_," were the recipients of the hospitality of another of the family of Stonnickers, who lived up a "ravine" about a mile nearer Huttonsville. Doctor Ames had musk upon his handkerchief, which the young lady, (?) Miss Delilah Stonnicker, noticing, as she waited upon the Doctor at the supper-table, exclaimed: "'Lor', Doctor, how your _hankercher_ stinks!"

"Does it?" said the Doctor, coloring up to his very eyes, roars of laughter proceeding from all present.

"Yaas; it stinks just like a skunk."

"Why, Miss Delilah, do you have skunks out here?" inquired the Doctor.

"_Yaas, lots on 'em up the gut out thar._"

NOW AND THEN.

Written by Enos B. REED,

And Recited by Mr. Alf BURNETT, at the Benefit of the Ladies'

Soldiers' Aid Society of Cincinnati, Sat.u.r.day Evening, January 31st, 1863.

In other days, as it has oft been told By those who sleep beneath the grave's dank mold, In this, our loved, but now distracted land, Men dwelt together as a household band; Brothers they were, but not alone in name, Sons of Columbia and Columbia's fame-- They loved the land, the fairest 'neath the sun, Home of the brave--the land of Was.h.i.+ngton!

Peaceful the rivers as they flowed along The plenteous fields, where swelled the harvest song; Peaceful the mountains, as they reared on high Their snow-capped peaks unto the azure sky-- Peaceful the valleys, where contentment smiled, Blessing alike the parent and the child-- Peaceful the hearts which owned a country blest, And owned their G.o.d, who gave them peace and rest!

The happy matron and the joyous maid Alike were blest--the unknown traveler stayed His weary limbs beneath their roof-tree's shade, While home from toil the husbandman returned, His honest hands the honest pittance earned, Willing to share his humble meal with one Whether from Winter's snows or Southern sun.

No North--no South, in those the better days-- Our starry flag o'er all--its genial rays Glistened amid New England's dreary snows, Or shone as proudly where the south wind blows: One flag, one nation, and one G.o.d we claimed, And traitors' lips had never yet defamed The land for which our fathers fought and bled-- Hallowed by graves of honored patriot-dead!

Fruitful the earth, and fair the skies above; The days were blissful, and the nights were love; We were at peace--our land and freedom gained-- Our fair escutcheon with no blot e'er stained-- But all did honor to the fair young State Who made herself both glorious and great; Our Eagle--emblem of the happy free-- Was free to soar o'er foreign land or sea!

But darkness came, and settled like a pall Funereal, on our hearts; o'er one and all It cast its blighting, withering wing, A horrid, shapeless, and revolting thing-- While dove-eyed Peace bowed down its gentle head And wept for those, though living, worse than dead; And blood, like rivers, flowed from hill to plain 'Till land and sea knew not their ghastly slain.

The Northern snows incarnadined with gore-- The Southern vales with blood, like wine, ran o'er-- The battle raging in the morning sun, At night, the warfare scarcely yet begun-- The sire, in arms to meet his foeman-son, Brother, to seek his brother in the strife, Rushed madly on--demanding life for life!

And children, orphans made--and worse than widowed, wife!

And this the land which erst our fathers blest, Favored of Heaven--the pilgrim's hope of rest-- Now cursed by traitors, who with impious hands Have dared to sunder our once-hallowed bands-- Have dared to poison with their ven'mous breath All that was fair--and raise the flag of death; Have dared to blight the country of their birth, Striving her name to banish from the earth!

G.o.d of our fathers! where your lightnings now, To blind their vision, and their hearts to bow?

Traitors to all that manhood holds most dear, Without remorse, with neither hope nor fear, They trail our starry banner in the dust, And flaunt their own base emblem in the gust; Like the arch-fiend, who from a Heaven once fell, They'd pull us down to their own fearful h.e.l.l!

A boon! O G.o.d! a boon from thee we crave-- s.h.i.+ne on this gloomy darkness of the grave; Stretch forth thine arm, and let the waves be still, And Union triumph, as it must and will.

G.o.d of our Fathers! guide our arms aright, Be near and with us in the deadly fight; Columbia's banner may we still uphold, And keep each star bright in its azure fold.

We mourn for those who sleep beneath the wave, Or on the land have found a soldier's grave; Each heart will be an altar to their fame, And ever sacred kept each glorious name.

We'll honor those who n.o.bly fought and bled, And fighting fell, where freedom's banner led; Each soldier-son, we'll welcome to our arms, When strife has ceased its din and dread alarms!

Our soldiers, home returning from the wars, Our dames shall nourish--honored scars Shall mark them heroes, and they live to tell How once they battled--battled brave and well-- For home and country--mountain, plain, and dell-- And how the nation like a phenix rose From out its ashes, spite of fiendish foes; Then once again Columbia shall be blest-- Home of the free, and land for the oppressed!

[Ill.u.s.tration: The preacher from Hepsidam. See page 308.]

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

An Incident of the 5th O. V. I. -- How to Avoid the Draft -- Keep the Soldiers' Letters -- New Use of Blood-hounds -- Proposition to Hang the Dutch Soldiers -- Stolen Stars.

AN INCIDENT OF THE 5th O. V. I.

There is no regiment in the service that has won more enviable renown than the glorious old 5th; and, although I have met them but twice in my peregrinations, I can not let them go unnoticed in this volume.