"We here at the seat of war in the South are splendidly supplied with an abundance of newspapers, magazines, and I know not what besides. Some are illustrated with all sorts of pictures, and some are not illustrated; and they appear to be sent to us poor fellows by all sorts of good people from all the four winds of heaven. In one of these latest magazines there is a very vivid representation of a terrible fight that the First South Carolina Colored Regiment had with bloodhounds at Pocataligo Bridge, on the 23rd of October, 1862. The rebels came streaming on through the woods, with horse, foot and dragoons, and also the bloodhounds. Our own brave men advanced boldly through among the trees, and attacked dog, horse and man in a terrible hurry. The hounds especially dashed against our men with great fierceness, but they were shot down and bayoneted quicker than it takes me to tell the tale with pen and ink. Then the gallant troops held them up aloft for joy on the points of their bayonets and laughed. The dogs looked just like meat on the point of a fork. I have turned the entire scene into a little poem of my own. Here it is: "We met the bloodhounds at the bridge, They ran with all their might; Their open months cried bow, wow, wow! It was a glorious sight. We ran our bayonets through their backs, We shot them with the gun; It was all over with the dogs, And ’twas most glorious fun! "In former days those brutes were used To hunt the flying slave; They tracked them through their dismal swamps, And little quarter gave; But when they tried the game of war We knocked them on the head, We shot them quick, and ran them through, Until every hound was dead! "Thus perished those bad dogs at once, We tossed them high for fun; We held them on our bayonet tops, And finished the last one; Which was a flitting end for them, The brutes shall bark no more, Nor hunt the flying fugitive On Carolina’s shore! "But slavery there has lost the day, They need bloodhounds no more; All men and women now are free On Carolina’s shore; The white man now will learn to work Like other men I trow, Nor raise the bloodhounds for the chase, Big brutes that cry bow, wow! "But I must lay down the pen, or else I am sure you will begin to get tired of my long letter. I was very greatly interested, indeed, in your glorious visit to Canada. I would like to go there myself. Perhaps we will all visit them together some future day. With much warm love to yourself, the girls, and all the rest. I am as ever, "Your most loving husband, "THOMAS LINCOLN." CHAPTER VIII.