Narrative of the Suffering and Defeat of the North-Western Army Part 4

At this place we were told by the British that we were eating Yankee beef--that most of their supplies came from the States. As it is not my business, I will forbear censuring; and will content myself with barely stating facts. These things occur very frequently all along the line between Canada and the United States in time of war; and men who profess great patriotism are sometimes found to be engaged in it. Such patriotism as this would scarcely be found in Kentucky.

We left for Quebec in a steam boat, the first built on the St.

Lawrence, and arrived there in about twenty four hours. The jail here was less comfortable than the one at Montreal. We were literally in rags, and remained so for many weeks; we had an agent whose duty it was to see that we were provided for, but if my memory serves me, he did not so much as visit the prison for nearly three weeks, and then we were treated by him like so many slaves.

After so long a time, Gardner, the agent, furnished each of us with a suit of coa.r.s.e clothing. By this time the weather had become excessively cold, and we were removed to the barracks until a prison could be prepared for us upon cape Diamond, where we princ.i.p.ally spent the time whilst we remained at Quebec.

After we removed to cape Diamond our number was greatly increased. Only seventeen Kentuckians came down together from Detroit; but there were many others taken at different times and places; some sailors, but mostly they were regular soldiers.

These had been confined in other parts of the jail, and now, when collected together, we numbered say ninety, all put into one house together. Here we had a small yard where we could take some exercise; this was a great privilege to men who had been so long in close confinement. We were closely locked up at night, and generally under a strict guard. The windows were strongly grated, and we had only light from one side. Our provisions were scanty and bad; I suffered more from hunger in Quebec than during any time of my long imprisonment. It was not because they had no provisions, but because they chose to starve us. When we were in Montreal they tauntingly told us that we were eating Yankee beef--giving us to understand that they were furnished with provisions from the United States. This scantiness of supply continued through the winter, and we were under the necessity of enduring our sufferings as we could. We were told that British prisoners in the United States fared worse than we did. Our wood was birch, and it served a double purpose; for we burned the wood, and made tea of the bark--this was all the tea or coffee which we drank in the city of Quebec.

The agent allowed us to draw each a few dollars in money; with this we bought articles from those who visited our prison. We were not very economical with our money; it lasted but a short time.

Some of the prisoners were always forming plans of escape, but could never mature them. At one time we were well nigh an elopement, but one proved a traitor, and informed the British officer of the design. The traitor had been in the regular service, and was taken a prisoner somewhere between Canada and the United States. Some offers were made to him, and he meanly enlisted as a British soldier, and divulged every thing which he supposed would make our condition more miserable. He told of the contemplated escape, and who were the most active as the leaders.

On the next day the keeper of the prison came up, and upon examination finding that the account was true, and ascertaining who had cut the holes, he sent the poor fellows to the dungeon, where they were doomed to remain for two weeks upon half rations.

After this pennance they were permitted to return to their former place. This broke up all designs of escape, as we were closely watched during the remainder of our stay.

After the fellow above named enlisted, strong efforts were made to induce others to follow his example. In order to this, they sent one of the officers who had command of the guard that brought us from York to Kingston, supposing that because we were acquainted with him, he would therefore have more influence with us. He was, however, the last man that should have been sent; we knew him to be sure, but we knew him to be a hard hearted tyrant, who had starved and drove us nearly to death. We were displeased at seeing him come into the prison, and no sooner had he made known his errand, than we gave him to understand flatly and plainly that deserters were not to be found among us. We expressed our detestation at the conduct of the one who had turned tory and traitor, and told him if there was no other way of a release from prison, that we would greatly prefer to lie in the fort until we were starved and perished to death. We moreover gave him to understand that we would not be insulted in that manner, and that he would do well to leave the fort--and some of the boys went so far as to take their tin pans, and beating upon them with their spoons, actually drummed him out of the prison.

By this experiment they were fully satisfied that it was a most fruitless business to try to induce us to leave our happy government and join theirs. It was often reported that we would be sent to Dartmoor prison, in England, and there kept as hostages, until the differences between the two governments should be adjusted. We sometimes thought perhaps it might be so, but we scarcely believed anything which they told us; their object no doubt was to alarm, with the fear of crossing the Atlantic, that they might the more easily pursuade us to desert.

Although this thing bore a very gloomy aspect, and was often a subject of serious conversation among us, yet we were determined, and strengthened each other in the purpose, not to desert, but to endure the worst, and be true to our country.

About this time we learned that Tec.u.mseh, the great Indian warrior, had fallen in the battle at Moravian town. His family was at this time in Quebec; they, in company with some other Indians, came to see us, and manifested great curiosity in taking a good look at Kentuckians--considered by some the rarest beings upon the earth.

Often numbers of people came to the prison to see us--one man, after looking at us for a length of time, manifested great disappointment, and said, "Why, they look just like other people." It seemed from this that an idea prevailed that we were wild men, or an order of beings that scarcely belonged to this earth.

During the time that we remained here Colonel Lewis and Major Madison visited us. Of the latter, the Vice President of the United States lately said in the Senate, that he was a man "of rare patriotism--the most beloved of all the public men of his State--the best among the best--'the bravest of the brave'--who died with never fading laurels upon his brow." They were accompanied by one or two British officers. After they had duly examined into our situation, Colonel Lewis encouraged us to bear our privations and sufferings in the spirit of true soldiers-- saying "that it belonged to the soil of Kentucky to be firm."

While this exhortation of the Colonel was received by us with great approbation, it evidently was received with indignation by the British officers. This made no manner of difference with Colonel Lewis, who proceeded to make such remarks, and gave us such advice, as he believed were for our comfort. I thought that the British were inclined to press their rigid military rules upon Kentuckians with more rigor than upon others. They rarely spoke to us, and when they did it was in a manner so haughty that we only felt the more indignant and hostile toward them. We would not conform to those terms of respect which they exacted from their own soldiers. Our feelings, and callings in life had been so very different from those of British soldiers, that we felt as if we lived in, and breathed, a different air.

Toward the latter part of the winter we were, after much entreaty from Lewis and Madison, permitted to write to our friends. Our letters were carefully read by the officers, and every word rigidly examined. I now wrote to my friends, and this was the first certain information that they received of my having survived the battles and dangers which we had pa.s.sed through, although I had now been away from home about eighteen months.

Notices had been in the public prints, written by Hunt, of Detroit, that prisoners had been carried on towards Quebec--but he had no further knowledge of us, or what would be our fate.

Perhaps it was better that we were not permitted to give a history of our sufferings: it would only have more deeply afflicted our friends, and added nothing to our relief.

I wish here to record, that the news of our unsuccessful attempt to escape reached, by some means, the ears of Colonel Lewis and Major Madison, and they being desirous to obtain the particulars, requested that two of our number might be allowed to visit their quarters, which were not far off. Their request was granted, and William McMillan and myself were selected to visit them. We were conducted by a guard, and very closely watched and listened to.

We told them of our attempt and defeat. They gave it as their opinion that we could not make a successful escape during the winter season, and that we ought not to attempt it. They told us of the great difficulty we would meet in travelling through the snow in that country, also in crossing the river St. Lawrence, even if we could, undiscovered, pa.s.s the guards. However, in case we should make the attempt, they gave us some directions touching the route that we should take if we succeeded in clearing the sentinels and crossing the river.

While writing this, I am reminded of an attempt made by some prisoners to escape about the time that we came to Quebec. They cut the bars out of the prison windows of the second story of the house, and let themselves down by means of their blankets. They were successful in pa.s.sing the sentinels, and crossing the river, and prospered all the way until they came near the American lines. Now, thinking that they were out of the reach of danger, they halted to take rest and refreshment, and feeling like birds let out of a cage, they felt that they might safely have a little spree; but just as they were in the midst of their frolic, the British pursuers came suddenly upon them, and took them all by surprise. They were not prepared to defend themselves, and had no opportunity to fly; therefore they had quietly to go back to Quebec, and to prison, where they suffered the deep mortification of a failure, and the renewed weight of British oppression.

Some time before we heard the good news of a general exchange of prisoners, I had a violent attack of billious fever. I laid several days in the prison before I suffered the old turnkey to know my situation. When it was communicated to him, he sent an old man to bleed me and to give me some physic, which gave me no relief; I was therefore removed about a mile from town, to the hospital, where they bled and physiced me enough. I do not recollect how long I remained at the hospital, but I remember that I was there when it was announced that all prisoners were to be exchanged, and that all who were able to go were to be sent away immediately. This was better to me than all the medicine in Canada. The hope of seeing my country and my home, rushed in upon my mind with refres.h.i.+ng power. I told the Doctor that I could not stay any longer in the hospital--that I must start if I died on the way. At first he opposed my going; seeing my resolution, at length he consented. The idea of being kept behind was like death to me sure enough. For some days before this news reached us I had been slowly recovering, but was yet barely able to walk when I left the hospital to return to the prison, where I found the boys making preparations to leave for the United States. We were to ascend the St. Lawrence in a vessel belonging to the British.

It was in the month of May when we left this gloomy prison, where we had spent a miserable winter and spring. The recollection of these times are horrible to my mind until this hour. I am sorry that I ever fell into British hands. It appears that the British officers were perfectly dest.i.tute of human feelings, so far as we were concerned. I have no means of knowing generally their characters, and I surely have no wish to defame them generally; I speak only of those into whose hands I fell, and from whom I received such little kindness.

May had not brought warm weather in that country; heaps of drifted snow were to be seen in the mountains north of Quebec; and the northwestern winds were keen and chilling, especially to me in my feeble state. After we boarded our little vessel, we remained several days, I know not what for, in an uncomfortable situation; with but little fire, and exposed to the incessantly blowing winds. This increased again the disease under which I had been laboring, so that I now had chill and fever every day. I was barely able to walk, and more than one thousand miles from home, without money, clothes, or friends that were able to help; yet my spirit did not quail for a moment,--I hoped somehow to get through. At length we were put into another vessel, and set sail up the St. Lawrence. Thus we continued until we came to the mouth of the river Sorrell, which connects lake Champlain with the St.

Lawrence. We ascended this river for a considerable distance in the same vessel, when we were placed in open boats and carried across the line. It was said, with what truth I pretend not to say, that some of the British soldiers who guarded us made a good use of this opportunity and deserted, and left a land of oppression for a land of liberty and plenty.

We were set on the sh.o.r.e fourteen miles below Plattsburg, and then left to take care of ourselves, having neither money nor food, and almost naked, and some of us sick. We however, used to trials, went forward to Plattsburg--which I reached with the utmost difficulty, shaking one part of the day, and burning with fever the other. We had all been so long in confinement that we travelled slowly, and this enabled me to keep up until we arrived at a large encampment of the American army, a short distance above Plattsburg on the lake.

Our situation was communicated to the General, who promised to make provision for us, by giving us written pa.s.sports, and authorizing us to draw rations on the road wherever we could find any belonging to the United States--which was all that we could expect, or all that we asked, as he had no authority to pay us money. We waited a day or two for the fulfilment of this promise, when we renewed our application, telling him our necessities, how long we had been from home, where we had been taken prisoners, our anxiety to pursue our journey--but all to no effect; we only obtained promises. Having renewed our pet.i.tions for a week, we began to despair of success, and thought of seeking help from some other quarter. We were now satisfied that it was the purpose of the commanding officer to detain us there, place difficulties in our way of going home, that thereby we might be induced to enlist; he supposed that we would not certainly undertake such a journey on foot, without money or pa.s.sports. This did alarm one or two of the company, who took the bounty and enlisted for five years. The rest of us now resolved to make a start towards old Kentucky; but before we left we made one more unsuccessful effort to obtain the necessary papers from the General. By this time a kind and n.o.ble hearted young Lieutenant, whose name was Frederick, became interested in our welfare, and wrote us a pa.s.sport to draw upon any supplies belonging to the Government.

This answered a good purpose where the keepers were young and ignorant, and did not understand their business; but our order was often protested.

Notwithstanding my fatigue and exposure to the night air, and a chill every day, my strength had much increased, yet I feared the fatigues of the long journey before us; but to my astonishment I had the last chill on the evening before we left the encampment-- I never had another.

On a beautiful morning, about the first of June, 1814, we left the American army near Plattsburg, turning our faces towards home with light hearts and little money. I had but twelve and a half cents, and I believe I was nearly as wealthy as any of the company. And now I feel utterly at a loss to describe my feelings. Until now we did not feel entirely free; though in the American camp, we were under sentinels and military restraint. We had been for so long a time in prison, and suffering, that we seemed to have reached a new world almost. We little thought of the journey that was before us, but talked cheerfully of our situation, as we pa.s.sed many beautiful farms in high promise, situated upon the sides of the lake. Above all, we felt hearts of sincere grat.i.tude to a kind Providence, who had delivered us out of the hands of wild and ferocious savages, and hard hearted tyrants, and had again brought our feet to stand upon the soil of freedom.

We made our way up the lake on the right bank until we came to the ferry, which we found some difficulty in crossing, because we had no money to pay our pa.s.sage. We told the keeper the true story of our errand--where we had been, and where we were going: after some hesitancy he took us all over without any pay. We then took the road leading to the head of lake Champlain; some of the people along this road were kind, but others looked upon us with suspicion. Our appearance was very shabby indeed--the coa.r.s.e clothes which we received in Quebec, the winter past, were all in rags and dirt, and having no possible opportunity of getting a new supply, we were compelled to appear before all in our way in this garb. Our rags may have been an advantage to us, as they attracted notice, and curiosity would induce many to ask us questions, and thus we would have an opportunity of telling our history, and so gain something to sustain us upon our journey.

This afforded us a good opportunity of ascertaining the dispositions of men. Many were suitably affected with our situation, and offered relief; but other cold blooded animals had no compa.s.sion--they lived within and for themselves--and we found some so dest.i.tute of all sense of respect as even to insult us.

After travelling together a short distance, we began to find that it would be with difficulty that we could travel through that country without money. We consulted together what way would be the best for us to take, and concluded to separate, as beggars had better go in small companies. When we parted, it was with the understanding that we would try to meet again at Oleann Point, on the Alleghany river. Thus we bid each other farewell, and broke off into companies of four. The company to which I belonged took the road leading from the head of the lake to Utica, in the State of New York. This road was mostly turnpiked, which made the travelling worse for us, as we were nearly barefooted, and our feet soon became sore, so that our stages were short. It would be impossible for me to relate the particulars of this journey through the State of New York; but one thing truth compels me to state, and that is, we suffered more from hunger while pa.s.sing through this State than in all the rest of the way from Quebec to Kentucky. We found the people generally either too proud or too stingy to give us food, or to treat us like human beings. In pa.s.sing through the little towns and villages our appearance would immediately attract attention, and in a few minutes the people would gather around us in great numbers; they would ask us a number of questions, which we would fully answer, though they often suspected us for being deserters. We occasionally found in these companies, persons who were touched by our appearance and story, so they would turn out and raise a few s.h.i.+llings to help us on our journey. The money thus raised we considered as common property, to be used for the benefit of all. We made it last as long as possible, by always purchasing the cheapest articles of food, and never spending any unnecessarily.

When we arrived at Utica we found a recruiting party there; and here I picked up a pair of old shoes which had been thrown away by the soldiers; these enabled me to travel on the turnpike with more ease and speed. We found but few who were willing either to feed or lodge us without pay, though we only asked to lie upon the floor. Some absolutely refused to give us any shelter at all.

I will here relate a case, and if I knew the name of the individual I would record it as a Warning to any one who might be tempted to treat any poor sufferer in like manner. After travelling hard all the day, we called at a house and asked the man the favor to stay and lie upon the floor until morning, at the same time informing him that we had been prisoners for some time, and that we were on our way to Kentucky, our native State, and that we would not ask him for any thing else. He told us pointedly that we could not sleep in his house. We then asked to sleep in the shop, (he was a wagon maker:) this he also refused; we then told him that we were much fatigued, and would be glad to have permission to lie down in his barn. He then refused in the most positive manner; telling us that there was a tavern about a mile ahead, and as they had the profit of travellers, they should have the trouble also. We left him to his conscience, and walked on toward the tavern, feeling that we were strangers indeed in a strange land, driven from door to door, fatigued and hungry, without one cent in our pockets, knowing not where we should find shelter; and returning too from fighting the battles of the country we were now pa.s.sing through so poorly requited. At length we came to the tavern, and by stating our misfortunes we succeeded in gaining permission to sleep on the floor. Soon after our arrival supper was announced, but nothing was said to us. We laid down on the floor of the bar room hungry, tired and sleepy.

If we had received such treatment in an enemy's country, we would not have been surprised, but we had been out fighting for the liberties of this very people--this made our sufferings the more acute. We made an early start next morning, supposing that the chance for breakfast would be as gloomy as that of the supper had been. We determined to go forward as far as possible, hoping soon to find another kind of people, who would help us.

When we applied in the evening for permission to lie in the barn, and were refused, there was a gentleman present who overtook us a day or two afterwards, and reminded us of the treatment, and that he was present; he gave each of us some money--he said that he had no money when he first saw us.

Not far from this hard place, we met a man of quite a different feeling. Near sunset we were pa.s.sing his house, when he called to us and asked if we had any money; we told him we had none: "Well, you had better stop here with me and stay all night, for the man who keeps the next house is a tory, and will not permit you to stay without money." I need hardly say that we acceeded to his proposition. We were treated with kindness and hospitality, and for once fared well. This was a set-off to some former cases.

After we had pa.s.sed through the thickly settled parts of New York, we came to the Gennessee country, which was at that time but thinly inhabited. We were now told that we would find serious difficulties in pa.s.sing on without money; on the day that we entered what was called the wilderness we were entirely dest.i.tute, and had very serious fears of suffering more than we had yet been called to endure; but as our fears were rising to the highest pitch, we unexpectedly met a young officer belonging to the United States service; he inquired into our history carefully, and becoming satisfied with the account which we gave him of our capture and sufferings, he kindly gave us one dollar a piece, which was sufficient, with rigid economy, to carry us through the most dreaded part of the wilderness.

It may appear to the reader that I have given, a very cheerless and rigid account of the people along the road that we traveled through the State of New York; I am certain of the truth of the history, for a man starving knows when he receives any thing to eat, and also when he is refused. I am as certain of this part of the history, as that I was in the battle, and wounded at the river Raisin. Whether we fell upon the only n.i.g.g.ardly people that lived in that part of the country, or whether the people were mostly tories there, I have no means of determining. It may be asked why I record these things? It may seem harsh to speak of them; it was much harsher to feel them. If people will sin publicly, and drive starving begging soldiers from their doors with contempt, those soldiers, if they should live to reach home, and should write an account of their trip, will be very likely to refer to such treatment. If those folks are yet living, a sermon upon "be careful to entertain _strangers_," might not be entirely without its good effects upon them.

After pa.s.sing through this wilderness, we began to draw near to Oleann Point, the place where we had agreed to meet again when we parted at the head of lake Champlain. One company overtook us on the same day that we arrived at Oleann. Here we had intended to take water, but we could hear of no craft going down the river.

Our money was gone, and provisions were scarce and dear, so we could not stay long here. Necessity, the mother of invention, drove us to seek out some way of getting on. We numbered eight persons at this time; I remember the names of _Philip Burns, Patrick Ewing, Simon Kenton, Thomas Bronaugh, William McMillan_ and _Thomas Whittington_. At length we concluded to build a raft of slabs that we found lodged against a bridge; so we all went to work; having walked so far, our wind was pretty good, and got our raft completed by sunset--on Sunday too. We then procured some bread, and set sail down the river a little before dark, not knowing what was before us, whether there were dangerous pa.s.ses, or falls in the river--such was our dest.i.tute situation, that we were compelled to go on. Our provisions were nearly out, and Indians chiefly inhabited the country along the river down towards Pittsburg. During the night we had some difficulty in pa.s.sing the drift at the short bends that are in the Alleghany, but went on tolerably well until next morning about breakfast time. I had laid myself down upon the dry part of the raft and fallen asleep, not having slept any during the night, as there was not room for more than two or three to lie down at once. We now came in contact with a driftwood, and the current was so strong that the raft was taken under almost instantly--we scrambled up on the drift, and after some difficulty got ash.o.r.e.

The raft came out below, and went on; and then we were left on foot again, among the Indians called Corn Planters. Fortunately for us, we had taken a Yankee pa.s.senger aboard our raft, who had some money with him, with which we bought a canoe from an Indian in which we came down the river until we reached Pittsburg.

Before we reached Pittsburg we met a recruiting party at the mouth of French creek; the officer was very kind--he furnished us with a room to sleep in--gave us flour and whiskey. His object was to enlist some of us; we did not tell him that we would not enlist; we sat up however and baked bread enough whilst the others were asleep to last us to Pittsburg; and before the officer was out of his bed in the morning, we were paddling on towards home.

When we arrived at Pittsburg, we sold the canoe for five dollars, and purchased bread, and almost immediately took pa.s.sage on a salt boat bound for Kanawha. But whilst we were in Pittsburg we there saw the British soldiers that guarded us at Detroit prison--they had been taken at the battle of the Thames--they were at liberty to go to any part of the town, and to work for themselves. We took this opportunity to remind them of the difference between their treatment of us, and our treatment toward them; they were compelled to acknowledge the truth, and praised our officers very highly.

We paid our pa.s.sage upon the salt boat, by working at the oars, all except myself, who was the cook for the company. When we floated down as far as Kanawha we were there set upon the sh.o.r.e, and were once more compelled to look about for the means of continuing our journey. After we had been there a few hours we saw a raft of pine plank floating down the river; we hailed the owner, asked for a pa.s.sage, and were taken aboard. On this raft I floated down to Maysville, where, thanks to a superintending Providence, I once again set my feet upon Kentucky soil, and breathed the air of my native State. Now I was almost naked; no person, as well as I can remember, had offered me a single article of clothing since I left Quebec. I had exchanged my pantaloons, given to me in prison, for an old pair which I found on the boat, thrown away as useless by some of the boatmen; my s.h.i.+rt had, by slow degrees, entirely disappeared; I had some where picked up an old coat that had been the property of some regular soldier--these two articles const.i.tuted my wardrobe, entire--I was barefooted, but had an old hat.

My companions had all left me higher up the river, and gone across the country as a nearer way home. When I left the raft and went into the town my situation excited attention, and soon all my wants were supplied. Some gave the stuff, and a number of tailors joined, and in a few hours I was clothed, and furnished with money to bear my expenses home. I felt the difference here between warm and cold hearted people. My anxiety was great to pursue my journey, so I ascended the steep hill that hangs around Maysville, and made my way through Georgetown and Frankfort, to Shelbyville, at which place I arrived on the 20th day of June, A.

D. 1814.

Here, at length, after an absence of nearly two years, during all of which time I had been exposed to sufferings, dangers and privations, not having slept upon a bed until my return to my native land, I found myself among the friends of my childhood and my own beloved kindred. I had left them, when a mere lad, as a volunteer soldier in the company commanded by Captain Simpson, and I came back to them a man in years, though feeble in strength and frail in appearance. The meeting indeed was unexpected to them, and none can tell the fullness of joy that reigned in my own heart.

A kind and merciful Providence had preserved and sustained me through all the perils with which I was surrounded, and unto Him do I give the praise for my safety. Many years have pa.s.sed since the occurrences detailed in this narrative took place. I may now almost be cla.s.sed in the number of old men. My avocations have been those of peace. I have, for nearly twenty years, as an ordained Minister of the Methodist Episcopal Church, endeavored to teach the mild doctrines of my blessed master. Yet it may not be without its use to my young countrymen to know what their fathers have suffered. I have told them a plain unvarnished tale, which while it may encourage them to be bold in their country's cause, may also, acquaint them with what they owe to the generation that has just preceded them.

W. ATHERTON.

Note.--On pages 29 and 30 of the foregoing narrative, mention is made of the reception, by the suffering volunteers, of a seasonable supply of clothes that had been made up and sent to the army by the patriotic ladies of Kentucky. I have, since the commencement of this publication, met with an article that appeared in the Frankfort Commonwealth (when that paper was under the editorial direction of Orlando Brown, Esq.) ent.i.tled "Kentucky Mothers," in which allusion is made to the same transaction. I have thought it not irrelevant to append it to this, as it shows, in a striking manner, the deep devotion to country felt by the ladies of Kentucky, and the extent of the sacrifices they were prepared to make. Although Mr. Brown did not give the name of this n.o.ble mother, I have his permission to state that the lady alluded to is the venerable Mrs. Elizabeth Love, who yet resides in Frankfort, beloved by all for her eminent worth, and characterized by high intellectual endowments a.s.sociated with fervent piety, unaffected charity, and every trait that dignifies and adorns the female s.e.x.

KENTUCKY MOTHERS.

"The deep interest which pa.s.sing events are giving to the history of the campaigns of the North-Western Army, naturally sets the memory to work in recalling the incidents that gave them their peculiar character. The achievments of the volunteers under the gallant Harrison, are written in the brightest pages of the records of their country, and must live so long as the human heart thrills at the contemplation of deeds of lofty heroism. But Kentucky does not point solely to her brave soldiers, and challenge admiration for them. Far, far from it; for to the n.o.ble mothers and daughters of our State belongs a chaplet of unfading laurels. _They_ espoused the cause of their country with an ardour never surpa.s.sed in any land under the sun. Company after company, batallion after batallion, left the State for the scene of war, and although the bloodiest battles were fought, and men came home with thinned ranks and wearied frames, and the wail of the widow and the orphan was loud in the lament for the slain, the fire of patriotism burnt the brighter, and the women of Kentucky, never faltering, still urged on the men to battle.

Although we were at that time but a very small boy, well do we remember all that pa.s.sed under our observation at that stirring period. We remember the letters that were received from the volunteers describing their sufferings from cold and hunger and nakedness, and we remember, too, how the ladies united together for the purpose of sending clothing to the suffering soldiery.