Fox hunting; Horses; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Personal narratives
On one occasion Pat Dixon reported that a detachment of Forrest's
command, about three hundred strong, had crossed the railroad and was
moving north in the direction of our camp. At this time the preacher
was near us, and I had an interview with him. He doubted the report,
but would investigate. I told him we would start the next day, with
five hundred men, in the direction of Trenton,--where he was to hold a
prayer-meeting at the house of one of Forrest's captains. The meeting
was held, and after it was over, the subject of the advance was talked
over very freely by the officers present, he sitting in a rapt state of
unconsciousness--his thoughts on higher things--at the chimney-corner.
Pleading an early appointment at McKenzie's Station for the following
day, he left as soon as the moon was up, and drove to the house of a
friend in the village. His wife supposed that he was coming with a
false report to lead us into a trap laid for us.
We arrived at McKenzie's at one o'clock in the morning, after a
detestably cold, hard ride, and took up our quarters in a half-finished
and half-furnished house, where we struggled the whole night through in
the endeavor to get heat out of a fire of wet dead-wood. Early in the
morning the Hun started out, in his fiercest mood, with a small escort,
seeking for information and hunting up suspicious characters. At
breakfast-time he came upon a large family comfortably seated at table,
with our preacher and his wife as guests.
He was asked to "sit by." "Thank you; I have come for more serious
business. Who is at the head of this house? I should like to see you
alone, sir." The trembling, invalided paterfamilias was taken into an
adjoining room, and put through the usual course of questions as to his
age, place of birth, occupation, condition as to literacy, the number
of negroes owned, the amount of land, what relatives in the Rebel army,
to what extent a sympathizer with the Rebellion, when he had last
seen any Rebel soldiers or scouts or guerillas or suspicious persons
of any description, and so on, through the tortuous and aggravating
list that only a lawyer could invent. Questions and answers were taken
down in writing. The sterner questions were spoken in a voice audible
to the terror-stricken family in the adjoining room. The man, of
course, communicated nothing, and probably knew nothing, of the least
consequence. He was sent to a third room and kept under guard. His case
disposed of, his wife was examined in like manner, and then the other
members of the family. Finally, the coast being clear, our emissary
was sent for. He came into the room chuckling with delight over
this skilful exercise of the art of deceit, in which he was himself
such an adept, and laying his hand on the Hun's arm, said, "My dear
fellow, I respect you. This has been the most brilliant dodge I ever
knew,--capital,--capital!" And he then went on to recount all that he
had heard the evening before.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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