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but finally landed us safely on this side. I breathed much freer when I got out.
On this raid, after the disastrous attack of July 4, upon the stockade
at Green River bridge, where we lost so many brave officers and men, we, the
next day, drove Col. Charles Hanson's infantry regiment, the 20th Kentucky, into
the brick depot at Lebanon, Ky. Our troops surrounded the building, but were
greatly exposed to the enemy's fire, and suffered under the heat of a broiling
sun for four hours. Some of our men concealed themselves by lying down in or
behind the tents just vacated by the Federal troops. When the order was given by
Gen. Morgan to charge the enemy, I witnessed an admirable exhibition of courage
on the part of Col. D. Howard Smith. He mounted his horse and led the assault
himself, calling on us to follow him, in plain view of the enemy and under a
terrific fire from the depot, not exceeding a hundred yards from our advancing
columns. On the other side of the building, in the charge of the Second
Kentucky, just before the surrender, Lieut. Thomas Morgan, a younger brother of
Gen. Morgan was killed - shot through the heart. He was idolized by his
regiment, and many of his comrades, infuriated by his death, in the excitement
of the moment, would have shown no quarter to the Federal soldiers had it not
been for the noble and magnanimous conduct of Gen. Morgan himself. Although
stricken with grief over the lifeless body of his favorite brother, and with his
eyes filled with tears, I saw him rush
Page 12
to the front inside the depot, and with drawn pistol in hand he stood between
Col. Hanson's men and his own, and declared he would shoot down the first one of
his own men who molested a prisoner. And here I may venture the assertion that
no officer in either army, as far as my knowledge extends, was kinder to
prisoners or more considerate of their rights than Gen. Morgan.
When our command crossed the Ohio River at Brandenburg, in two
steamboats we had captured, I experienced some peculiar sensations as I set foot
on Indiana soil and realized that I was engaged in a hostile invasion of my
adopted State. I soon got over this feeling, however, and regarded our march
into the enemy's country as one of the exigencies of war and entirely
justifiable. I was in the advance guard under Capt. Thomas H. Hines (afterward
one of the judges of the Court of Appeals of Kentucky) through Indiana and Ohio,
and was captured at Buffington Island. I rode down eight horses on that raid,
and although this number was perhaps above the average to the man, there were
doubtless fifteen thousand horses ridden at different times by Morgan's Men on
the Indiana and Ohio raid.
About seven hundred of our command under Col. Richard Morgan,
surrendered at Buffington Island, and we were started down the river on a boat
next day in charge of some Ohio troops (the 12th Ohio Infantry, as I recall),
who treated us with great courtesy. Gen. Morgan and the remainder of his
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troops (except four hundred of them under Col. Adam R. Johnson who crossed the
Ohio River at Buffington Island and thus escaped) were not captured until a week
later.
IMPRISONMENT AT CAMPS MORTON AND DOUGLAS.
After our arrival in Cincinnati, we were shipped in box cars to Camp
Morton at Indianapolis. I now began to appreciate what it was to be a prisoner
of war, and that, too, within forty miles of the home of my parents. I was not
entirely sure, either, of what would be the fate of a Rebel from the Hoosier
State. I was, however, shown much kindness by one of the companies of the 71st
Indiana Regiment, which constituted our prison guard. It was made up of my
neighbor boys in Putnam County, and they all seemed rejoiced to see me there.
Through their intervention I received clothing and other necessaries from home
and obtained an interview with my brothers and some of my old friends, who had
learned of my capture and came over to Indianapolis to see me.
Remaining one month at Camp Morton, we were then sent to Camp Douglas,
at Chicago.
ESCAPE FROM CAMP DOUGLAS.
On the night of October 16, 1863, having been confined in prison three
months, accompanied by one of my messmates, William L. Clay, I tied my boots
around my neck and in my sock feet climbed the prison fence, twelve feet high,
between two guards and made my escape. I still have the handkerchief
Page 14
which I tied around my neck and from which my boots swung down my back under my
coat, on that occasion. I have it here in my pocket. (This handkerchief was
exhibited to the audience.) I have kept it all these fifty-five years. It is a
cotton handkerchief of the bandana order. I do not know whether it is still
intact or not. It seems to be in fairly good condition. I have said I keep it,
but the truth is my wife did so as a cherished relic. My brother, Dr. R. French
Stone, who afterward practiced his profession at Indianapolis until his death,
five years ago, was then attending Rush Medical College at Chicago. We found him
next morning after making my escape as he was entering the college building. He
showed us over the city, and during the day we dined at the Adams House, an
excellent hotel. It was the first "square meal" Clay and I had eaten in several
months, and I have often thought since that it was the best dinner I ate during
the war.
My comrade and I left the city by the Illinois Central, going to
Mattoon, thence to Terre Haute, where we tarried at a German hotel two days,
most of the time playing pool, having written home to some of my family to meet
me there. After seeing two of my brothers and obtaining some additional funds,
we came by rail to Cincinnati, thence by boat to Foster's Landing, Ky., and from
there footed it through Bracken, Nicholas and Bourbon Counties. Clay separated
from me in the latter county. He died several years ago in this city, where he
practiced
Page 15
medicine, and is buried in our lot at Cave Hill. I attended his funeral.
RECAPTURED IN BATH COUNTY. IMPRISONED IN JAIL AT MT. STERLING.
I reached Bath County a few days afterward, and early one morning I was
captured in the very house where I was born by a squad of home guards in charge
of Dr. William S. Sharp, who was my father's family physician when we lived in
Kentucky. I was taken to Mount Sterling, and there lodged in jail - in the
dungeon. To keep the rats from eating my bread I tied it up to the wall with the
chains which were said to have been used in the confinement of runaway slaves
before the Civil War. My imprisonment there, however, was greatly relieved by
the visits of kind friends, among whom was the one destined to become my wife. I
saw that old jail building every day, when at home, during the seven years I
resided and practiced law in Mount Sterling from 1878 to 1885, when I removed to
Louisville. It had been converted into a dwelling-house, and was then Owned by
Col. Thomas Johnson, an ex-Confederate Colonel, who lived to be over ninety
years of age.
To make good my escape from Camp Douglas and to be again taken prisoner
after getting five hundred miles on my way back to Dixie was extremely
mortifying. I was confined in jail at Mount Sterling two weeks, and was then
started in a covered army wagon with other prisoners to Lexington.
Page 16
ESCAPE AT WINCHESTER.
Having serious apprehensions as to the reception I would meet with at
the hands of Gen. Burbridge (who had about that time an unpleasant way of
hanging and shooting such Rebels as he caught in Kentucky, having only a short
time before so disposed of Walter Ferguson, one of Morgan's men, whom I knew
quite well), I succeeded in making my escape in the nighttime at Winchester,
eluding the vigilance of Lieut. Curtis and his thirty mounted guards, who fired
a few harmless shots at me as I disappeared in the darkness.
That night I made my way to Alpheus Lewis', an old gentleman who lived
near our camp as we went South at the beginning of the war. We had camped there
around a sulphur spring. It was an exceedingly cold evening, the latter part of
November. In crossing a water-gap over Stoner Creek, I slipped and fell into the
water and got pretty well soaked. I had on a suit of butternut jeans clothing,
and in ten minutes after I had gotten out, the water had frozen and my clothing
rattled like sheet iron. I found my way to Lewis' home, and stayed there part of
the night and then left, because I had made some inquiries on the road, and was
fearful I might be caught if I remained all night.
A few days later, finding no opportunity to get South, owing to the
presence of Federal troops in Eastern Kentucky, with the aid of friends I got on
the train at Paris, Ky., and went to Canada via Cincinnati,
Page 17
Toledo, and Detroit. I went from the house of a friend, residing near Mt.
Sterling. A colored boy about eighteen years old named "Wash," was sent with me
to Paris. We rode horse-back, and he was to take my horse back. He knew I was a
Confederate soldier, but he was faithful to his trust. He afterward joined the
Federal army.
Just before entering Paris, I saw two guards in Federal uniform, and
"Wash" told me there was difficulty in getting passes out of Paris, and it was
right difficult to get into Paris. As soon as I saw these soldiers - I had to
make up my mind quickly - I addressed them first, before they had time to say or
do anything. I said "See here, gentlemen, I have got a boy here with me that is
going to take my horse back. I am going to Cincinnati with stock, and I want to
know if he will need a pass to get out?" One of the guards answered "No, that
will be all right. We will recognize him and let him through," and so they did.
SOJOURN IN CANADA.
I stayed in Canada, at Windsor and Kingsville, four months. During that
winter (1863-4) occurred cold New Year's Day. I went to a Methodist watch
meeting the night before and stayed until after midnight. When I got back to my
hotel at Kingsville it was blustering and getting cold fast. The next morning by
seven or eight o'clock it was so cold that neither the young man that was with
me nor myself could hardly get out of bed. It was eighteen degrees
Page 18
below zero then, and got worse during the day. Lake Erie froze over from side to
side so thick as to allow heavy teams to cross over it a distance of forty
miles. Some Confederate prisoners who were confined at Johnson's Island made
their escape on the ice to Canada. One of these in making his escape was wounded
by the Federal guard and was taken to a farmhouse near Kingsville. Everybody
skated in that country, and I soon learned the sport. While so engaged I became
acquainted with the Misses Harris, two handsome and refined young ladies,
residing at Kingsville, who were the granddaughters of Simon Girty, the
renegade. Their mother, the daughter of his infamous character in the pioneer
days of our country, was then still living.
I learned to make cigars while I was up there in Canada, and I got short
of funds before I left, and my landlady took my stock of cigars which I had left
for a balance on my board-bill. It was very small, - only $1.75 a week for board
and lodging.
When I went to Canada, I got to the Hirons House in Windsor and thought
I would register. I looked over the register to see if I knew anybody stopping
there. I knew there was a lot of Confederates who had gotten out of Camp Douglas
and gone to Canada. I looked over the page, and nearly every one whose signature
I saw on it - I recognized a good many of them - had registered his name,
Company, Regiment, Brigade, Confederate States Army. Thinks I, if they can so
register, I can too. So I
Page 19
wrote my name in full with Company and Regiment, Gen. John H. Morgan's Command,
C. S. A.
RETURN TO KENTUCKY.
When I prepared to leave Canada, I knew a Confederate soldier was
watched by detectives from across the Detroit River. I got on the train from the
East as it slowed up and came into Windsor. I do not recall whether it was a
Grand Trunk train or the Canadian Pacific, but at any rate I got off the train
before we reached the depot, and some detective evidently saw me. When I got out
among the other passengers and undertook to get on the ferry boat, he was
following me. Thinks I, this wont do, and I got off and mixed up with the other
passengers again. After eluding him, I went down in the engine room of the ferry
boat, and stayed there until I crossed over to Detroit, and he was thus unable
to find me.
Another thing: I thought I had become pretty well known, and to disguise
myself, I had my hair dyed before leaving Windsor. You can imagine what a sight
I was. My moustache and chin whiskers were dyed a deep black with nitrate of
silver or some sort of preparation. I paid five dollars for it, I know. In that
way, I came on to Kentucky without being detected. I came to Covington, and at a
restaurant there I sat right opposite a man that was with me and knew me well in
Windsor. He had gone up there, I think, to evade the draft. He did not recognize
me at all. I did not say anything to him, nor he to me. I was pretty well
disguised.
Page 20
It was in April, 1864, when I returned to Kentucky from Canada. While
watching a chance to go back to the confederacy, I worked on a farm three weeks
near Florence, in Boone County, a town afterward celebrated, in John Uri Lloyd's
novel, as "Stringtown-on-the-Pike." While there I visited, on Sundays, my aunt
and family, who lived nearby.
BACK WITHIN THE CONFEDERATE LINES.
On General Morgan's last raid into the State, I joined a small portion
of his forces near Mount Sterling, having made my way to them alone on horseback
from Boone County. By the way, I got my horse - borrowed it, of couse - from the
enemy. There were a lot of Government horses in the neighborhood where I was at
work. On reaching Virginia, in June, 1864, I attached myself temporarily to
Capt. James E. Cantrill's battalion, which was a remnant of Gen. Morgan's old
command, with which I remained until the following October, when after the
defeat of Gen. Burbridge at the battle of Saltville I got with my old regiment,
commanded by Col. Breckinridge then forming a part of Gen. John S. Williams'
Brigade. Meantime Gen. Morgan was killed at Greenville, Tenn., on September 4,
1864, where I was present as a member of Cantrill's battalion (under the command
of Gen. Duke, who had been exchanged), and a few days later was one of those who
went, with a flag of truce, to recover his dead body, which was sent to
Richmand, Va., for burial. After
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