CHAPTER 10.

Knoxville Campaign.

I was then ordered to report with my command to Glasgow, Kentucky, to join the expedition under General Burnside in his advance into Tennessee for the capture of Knoxville.

When we reached Green river which in past ages had cut an almost perpendicular channel more than fifty feet deep and from three hundred

four hundred feet wide for miles through the shale formation of that region, we found that the wagon bridge had been burned and there was no possible way of crossing except on a railroad trestle which spanned the chasm and upon which boards. had been laid lengthwise but with no side protection. The water was surging more than fifty feet below. To attempt to cross this looked as fearful as entering into a battle, but there was no help for it.

I dismounted the command, covered my horse's eyes with my handkerchief and led him to the trestle, directing the men to follow, keeping close up in single file.

The horses were tired enough to move quietly and the mule teams followed. All went well until the last six-mule team had nearly reached the other side,

when one of the mules stumbled and fell off the bridge, pulling the mule in front off with him. Both were stripped of their harness as they fell. They struck on a bank of sand at the bottom. When I reached the place I found the mules badly hurt internally and unable to get up. They looked up at their driver with an expression in their eyes as if pleading for help, and he stood by with tears running down his face and sorrowfully repeating, "My poor pets, my poor pets."

The wagon had been brought over by the wheel mules, and was taken the rest of the way by the four remaining ones. And after the column started the wagon master ended the suffering of the fallen mules. with his pistol.

In spite of the bad reputation this much abused servant has acquired, there are few animals that respond more kindly to kind treatment. He was our

standby in the army.

While at Glasgow, Ky., we received three months' pay, which, as usual, I urged the boys to send home, that they might have something to begin with when the war was over; and some twenty thousand dollars in packages addressed to the folks at home were brought to me. In company with a number of my officers I carried it twelve miles to the Mammoth Cave Railroad Station, from which I sent it home by express, taking a receipt for each package.

We then visited Mammoth Cave, which was about three miles distant. We found that the nearer we

approached the cave the less the natives knew about it; but we were very much interested in examining this wonderful curiosity of nature.

We returned to Glasgow next day, where I distributed the receipts, but one for $200, to Captain Daniels of Company "B" was missing. The following morning I returned to the railroad station and hunted in vain for the lost package. It had required two hours or more to register and get receipts for the three hundred packages, and we could not account for the missing one, which had probably been stolen by one of the many loafers about the station at the time. I reported the loss to Captain Daniels, and made it good to him the next pay day.

While encamped at Glasgow I learned that some gambling had been going on. I sent for the parties implicated. I found four losers but only one winner. He looked like a man who had seen a good deal of the world; the losers, like young country boys who had seen very little of it. Very few greenbacks were found in the crowd. The man of cards said he had sent his money home; the others said they didn't have any to send home. In examining the gambler's outfit, however, $200 in gold coin was found. He said he found it while foraging. I brought out all the facts in the presence of the entire battalion, telling them that gamblers could be found in uniform who had entered the service not to put down the rebellion, but to rob the boys who were trying to do it. I then called up the man who had won the money and those

who had lost it, and distributed the gold to each of the losers in proportion to his loss. I then ordered them to send it home, and directed their captain to see that they did it.

Major General Burnside with his command, about 10,000 strong, crossed the Kentucky river at "Jimtown," whose principal claim to notice is that it was the birthplace of "Mark Twain". It was also a county seat, and had been held by the rebel cavalry, and the Court House had been used as their stable.

The march across the Cumberland Mountains was a dreary one. The land is underlaid with coal, but the surface is poor and thin. The region was sparsely settled, the inhabitants making a meager living out of cultivating small clearings scattered here and there along the different roads. Word had reached them that the "Yankees were coming", and they were in a state of happy expectancy. They were too poor to be secessionists! The men had been hiding out to keep from being pressed into the rebel ranks; and the cross roads were lined with men, women and children, gathered in from miles around to see the Yankee troops. As the great, long blue columns of cavalry, infantry and artillery came in sight, they became wild with excitement and enthusiasm, shouting, and singing hymns, and hailing us as their deliverers. The old men waved their straw hats, and the women their gingham sun-bonnets, with joyful tears of welcome. Mothers would come close to the column as we halted and ask if we had seen their "Henry", their "Tom",