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44 MISS TESKIE.**
Melodrama Ur Prmfri Mian of ll PrU-
Ulfer From Lircullon. ,
BY COL. OEO. W. SYMONDS, OK TEN'S.
Dttrvti t'rm Preu.
My command was comjiosed of men
whose lives had been realistic romances,
replete with startling adventures, hair
breadth Escapes incidental and anecdo
tal enough to furnish ground work for
a thousand melo-dramas. They were
mostly mountaineers from Georgia, Al
abama, Tennessee and the Curolinas, a
hardy, fearless, dare-devil, rollicking
lot of fellows who were never at home
unless engaged either in a frolic or a
fight. We were Independent of the
stern army discipline which destroys a
soldier’s individuality and makes him
the tool and puppet of an office, in
•epaulets. We knew no commander su
perior to our own free wills, no allegi
ance except to the “ bonnie blue flag,"
Hind the cause of Southern rights, yet
So admirable was the esprit du corps of
this command that they worked as one
man, and individually and collectively
performed deeds of heroism which de
serve mention in the written history of
the great civil conflict.
I shall not pretend in this reminis
cence to give anything like a detailed
account of our four years’ campaign,
nor shall I seek to connect incidents
chronologically. I only desire to relate
in plain unvarnished language some of
the stories told me by my brave boys
while sitting around qur camp fires, and
such incidents and adventures of note
as were personally known to me. As
I kept no regular diary of daily events,
some of these reminiscences may show
trifling inaccuracies, but in the main
they will be found correct. When I
repeat over my experiences and adven
tures during that trying period I some
times doubt the truth of my own
thoughts, in such romantic cl: ,nnels do
they run, but by toning them to express
only dry facts, I hope in this relation
of our adventures to at least merit the
reader's belief in iny veracity.
One of the bravest men I ever met
was Stanford Jenkins, a six foot Ten
nessean, bony, angular, homely and as
strong as a lion, who joined us in the
spring of ’63. He never quailed in the
face of danger, and was so undemons
trative and quiet in bis demeanor that
tbe boys dubbed him “ Miss Tennie,”
which “''briquet clung to |nim to the
close of the war. Jenkins had been
with us about two weeks when we
crossed the mountains into North Car
olina and began straightening matters
up in the vicinity of Shelton Laviel.
This entire section of country was
overrun with bands of robbers, who,
by way of excusing their armed vio
lence, made a pretense of styling them
selves “ loyal men,” and in the troub
lous times of war bushwacked peacea
ble citizens, robbing and despoiling
their homes, committing outrages and
murdering in cold blood. With the ar
rival of m3 7 command these maurauders,
who despised law and justice, retreated
to the mountains, and in fancied secu
rity defied us. Dividing my command
into small squads I commenced a vigo
rous assault upon their strongholds,
and being joined by Thomas’ Cherokee
Indian Legion, under command of Ma
jor B. G. McDonnell, we soon caused
their disintegration and flight. In re
taliation tor the outrages committed
out of the pale of all law, we put sev
eral of the more prominent ringleaders
to death, either by hanging or shooting.
The rest were paroled and released
from custody.
Famous among these mountain out
laws were two brothers named Acree,
John and Samuel. Our efforts to cap
ture them had been unsuccessful, and,
emboldened by the failure of our well
laid schemes, they committed depreda
tions in our very teeth xibd boldly
laughed us to scorn. They seemed to
be apprised beforehand of all our move
ments, and man after man of my com
mand fell before their deadly aim. A
scouting party would start for the moun
tains, only to be beaten back by the
hidden foe, leaving half their number
on the field dead. Matters were get
ting desperate, and several of my hon
est scouts took it upon themselves to
visit the country of these men.
One night we were encamped in a se
cluded gorge at the foot of Roan Moun
tain. A large fire was burning in the
centre of the encampment, around
which clustered the men preparing their
evening meal. Among a thick grove
of cedars in our rear were picketed our
horses, and the red glare of the camp
fire throwing weird, ghostly shadows
among the trees and rocky cliffs which
surrounded us made up a scene pictu
resque and of superb grandeur. Sev
er's] scouting parties were yet to be
VOL II—NO. 34.
heard from, and the boys were specula
ting over the probable success of one
party composed of fl\e of the best
scouts and bravest men in the command
who had started out early in the morn
ing with the expressed determination
of bringing down the Acrae brothers
or of adding their names to the long
list of brave men who had died in at
tempting their capture. Suddenly the
heavy tramp of horses was heard com
ing up the defile at the head of which
we were camped, and with the shout of
“ here they come,” the men dropped
cotfec-pot and sauce pan to welcome
the new-comers. They were greeted
with 3’ells of approval and a deafening
cheer, which roused echo upon echo
among the crags and clitfs behind us.
Knowing full well that something un
usual had occurred, I rushed from my
quarters —a rude hut of logs ami turf
built against a solid wall of granite—
just in time to meet the leader of the
scouting party as he rode into camp
with John Acree strapped fast to the
saddle in front of him. Cutting the
lariats which hound his prisoner the
scout ordered him to dismount, and
then swinging out of the saddle, made
his way to where I was standiug, touch
ins his slouched hat said, with a tremor
of pride running through his voice :
“ Well, Kurnel, I’ve got the doddrat
ed skunk at last, arter a most desprit
fight in which bill Davis passed in his
chips, and Gus Simmons got a power
ful had wound.”
“ The other one. What of him ?” I
ventured inquiringly.
“ He's layin’ out tliar for the buzzards
to pick,” was the answer.
During this colloquy the prisoner
had been standing sullenly by with an
expression of hate and scorn distorting
his countenance. He knew that he
could expect no mercy from the men
surrounding him, but he seemed de
termined to diegaifie, and with 4 hoarse
laugh Tie threw upruis head, and, turn
ing to me, said:
“ Why don’t you go on with the cir
cus. Git out yer rope. Praps yer
’fraid ov me. Ye’ve had good cause
ter be.”
This speech reflected the thoughts of
the men who surrounded him, arid one
man shouted:
“ Yes, the rope. Let’s run him up.”
A rope was speedily procured. Will
ing, nay eager hands were ready. A
noose was made, running through that
cruel, choking knot used for one pur
pose. One end of the rope was thrown
over the limb of a neighboring tree.
Tiie fatal necklace was adjusted, and
with no priest present with consolation
for the hereafter, pardon and remission,
the sinful soul of John Acree was
about to launch itself into eternity.
Although the prisoner showed no out
ward sign of fear, save a slight change
in color, who could fathom the inmost
workings of his heart, the solemnity of
his last prayer, the farewell to earth,
the greeting to death, the mute soul
appeal to the mercy and clemency of
God, in whose presence he was so soon
to appear ?
All was ready, and several of the
boys grasped the rope and waited ex
pectantly for the signal to run their
prisoner up. Deep silence fell upon
the group, broken only by the crackle
of the fire and the measured tread of a
sentry posted in front of my quarters.
A crash was heard in the bushes behind
us, as of some heavy body forcing its
way through the tangled undergrowth,
and our. suspense was in a measure re
lieved by the arrival of another scout
ing party headed by “ Miss Tennie.”
The latter halted for a minute as he
stepped into the circle of light proceed
ing from the camp-fire, and then start
ed forward and glanced fixedly in the
face of John Acree. lie was evidently
laboring under some trouble or emo
tional strain for his gray eyes dilated
and his face became ashen. The exe
cutioners noticing his agitation dropped
the rope and with the words “ Thauk
God, I’m in time,” Miss Tennie bound
ed forward and tore the noose from
Acree's neck. This act, so unexpected
and unexplicable roused the men from
their momentary stupor of surprise. A
hundred pistols flashed in the red glare
of the camp-fire, from a hundred throats
issued smothered cries of rage, and a
HARTWELL, GA., WEDNESDAY, AIHIJL 17, 1878.
hundred men started forward to strike
down the man who thus boldly defied
the majesty of our mountain law. but
Miss Tennie never flinched, and step
ping in front of Acree he raised his
arm oommandingly and cried •• stop !”
The men hesitated and dropped their
pistols. A murmur of approbation
succeeded the hoarse cries of rage, and
the scout who had captured Acree step
ped in front of his fellows and, acting
as spokesman, said:
“ Miss Tennie, what does this all
mean ? What do you interfere for ?
That there man is John Acree.”
“ And John Acree once saved my
life,” continued Miss Teunie. “I’ll
stand by him as long as there’s a drop
of blood in my veins. When you hang
him you walk over my dead hotly to do
it.”
Tlien turning to me he said : Kur
nel, there's an explanation I’d like to
make. After you all have heard my
story, I’m willing it should go on,” and
he jerked his king forefinger toward the
rope still dangling from the tree.
Although the acknowledged head of
this body of men, there were times
when even my authority would be of
little avail, if I wont so far as to oppose
their unanimous wish. We were held
together as an organization, not tlirough
any belief in the right of one man to
dictate to and govern the rest, but from
a mutual dependence one upon the
other, and a respect for the opinion of
individual members of the band, with
out regard to title. The faces of my
men expressed their willingness to the
explanation vouchsafed bj 7 Miss Ten
nie, and I told him to tell his story.
With many reiterations—spicing his
narrative with that grirn, sage humor
peculiar to Southern mountaineers, and
in the quaintrdialect of “ craekerdom ”
—Miss Tennie related the following
tale of a night’s adventure, and his
miraculous escApo from death among
the mountains of “ loyal ” Tennessee.
As before stated Stanford Jenkins
was a Tennessean, bom and reared on
the banks of the beautiful Watauga.
He was an ardent believer in the right
of our sovereign State to secede from
the Federal Union, and so ultra was
he, so bold in presenting his opinions,
so valiant in defending them, that he
made himself obnoxious to his Union
neighbors, and when armed men uprose
to defend their opinions with their lives,
Jenkins was forced to leave the place
of his nativity and seek a home among
people holding views similar to his own.
When the Federals began destroying
the railroad between Chattanooga and
Bristol, Tennessee, Jenkins held the
position of watchman on the bridge
across the Ilolston River, at Union
Depot, llis companion was “Ilazy”
Davis, a half brother of the fighting
parson, "William Gannaway Brownlow.
One man attended the bridge in the
daytime and one at night, alternately.
It was Davis’s turn to watch the night
Stover’s men burned the bridge, but he
excused himself from duty on the plea
of sickness, and Jenkins stayed in his
place. So quietly did the bridge-burn
ers enter the town that not even a dog
barked to alarm the sleeping citizens.
Leaving their horses in a grove of trees
just outside the town, they made their
way to the bridge and captured the
single watchman without a struggle.
Then saturating the bridge top with
spirits of turpentine, they applied
torches at each end, and the long bridge
was soon in flames.
Taking their prisoner with them, the
“ loyal men” sought their horses and,
mounting rode out the Indian Creek
road toward Carter County before the
citizens of Union Depot fully realized
what was the meaning of the bright
glare that roused them from their peace
ful slumbers. The bridge-burners were
all masked, and addressed one anoth
er by numbers instead of by name, but
their voices betrayed them, and Jenk
ins recognized among his captors sev
eral of his old neighbors. He had
been placed on the horse in front of
one of the band, bound hand and foot.
When they had left the town about a
mile in the rear they halted, and after
a brief consultation, three men dis
mounted and led the prisoner into the
the thick woods fringing the road ou
cither side. The rest of the band rede
on. The man who had sat behind Jen
kins on the horse produced a rope, and
fixing it. anout the prisoner’s neck, hade
him prepare for death. Ho had not
spoken till now, and without show of
cowardice or fear, entreated them to
spare lieu for his wife and children.
He bade them take heed that he was
guilty of no crime—unless it was a
crime for a man to love liberty—and
that no advantage would be had them
if they took his life. So reasonably
and logically did lie argue his case that
one of the party was in favor of liber
ating hii \ and finally won his two com
panions liver to the same way of think
ing. They would not release him, how
ever, until he had taken a solemn oath
not to betray them. This he did, and
the man who had first plead his cause
placed him again on the horse and rode
hack with him toward the town. When
they were in sight of Union Depot lie
caused Jenkins to dismount, and ex
torting him fresh promises of se
cresy, \>. lo him go home. So grateful
was Jenl ins that lie asked jiennU vtL
to clasp ,'iis unknown deliverer's hand.
The man leaned out of his saddle to
grant the proffered request, but his
horse shied, and in endeavoring to curb
him the' mask fell from his face and
Jenkins recognized the savior of his
life aS the man now standing in our
midst, with the death rope hanging over
his lie .—John Acre*.
We 1 iad listened to Miss Tennie’s I
storj r with deep attention, ami when at
last fhmfiied, a silence of several min
utes succeeded the close of his recital.
Finally the scout who had brought
Acree in stepped forward and said :
** boys, I move that we turn the pris
oner o" ;r ter Miss Tennie.”
“ Aye! aye!’’ was the answering
chorus, and one man pulled down the
rope. Acree had listened to Miss Ten
nie’s s; >ry with head dropped forward
on hhJLrgast, motionless and noiseless,
'but’wifm the latter touched hi* ivixai
and whispered something in his car,
his emotion found utterance in a chok
ing sob, and throwing himself into
Miss Tennie’s arms lie burst into tears.
8o genuine was this emotion that tears
stood in every man's eyes, and .Miss
Tennie consoled him as one would a
child. Finally his sobbing stopped,
and lie dashed away the few 7 remaining
tears with the hack of his broad brown
hand.
“ Boys,” said he, looking around him,
“ there’s no more bushwhackin' for
John Acme. I’m goin’ back ter Ten
nessee.” Seizing his deliverer's arm
he pulled him forward with him down
the defile, and when Miss Tennie re
turned alone, his eyes were red and
swollen, and he spoke no more that
night.
A Dime Eater.
St. Louis Evening Post.
A most remarkable occurrence is re
ported as having taken place last Thurs
day in the neighood of Eleventh and
O’Fallon streets. A Mrs. McCann, re
siding at 1,134 O’Fallon street, Ims a
little daughter named Emma, eight
years of age, who, to all appearance, is a
healthy, lively creature, and regularly
attends school. Last Friday the child
was taken suddenly sick at the stomach
and commenced vomiting, and in a mo
ment threw up a silver dime. The
mother was naturally astonished, but as
her daughter seemed to recover, she
thought very little of the matter. With
in a couple of hours the child was again
seized with a vomitimg spell and threw
up eight more dimes. The dimes were
all of a somewhat brownish color, and
had the appearance of having been cor
roded with strong acid. The now thor
oughly alarmed mother sent for her
family physician, hut before he arrived
four more dimes and one nickel were
ejected from the child’s stomach. The
the nickel was partially destroyed, as if
eaten with some corrosive drug. The
doctor administered an opiate, and the
girl sank into a profound sleep. The
next morning she awoke and was all well
and out playing with other children.
Next day the sickness again attacked
her. Occasionally she would vomit vio
lently, and she threw up four more dimes,
two glass beads and a fancy glove but
ton. After a few’ hours she recovered,
and ha3 been perfectly .well since. She
attends school as usual, and there seems
to lie no change whatever in her health,
The astonished and horrified mother re
members uow that about four mouths
ago she missed from the bureau drawer
I a package of dimes, and she supposes
that her child must have swallowed
them, for their mysterious disappearance,
could never lie accouuted for.
The mother said that her little daugh
ter was possessed with an irresistible
impulse for swallowing metallic sub
stances. Pius and various other tilings
she had frequently swallowed, and she
never seemed to sufferany harm from it.
Mrs. McCann alleges that within the
past year her daughter had swallowed
at least twenty pins without injury.
The girl is as bright aud healthy as
ever.
Two Smart Young Men.
Burlington linick-Eye.
About a week ago there were two
smart young men who got on a Burling
ton aud Cedar Rapids train and laid
dhemsclvea out to amuse and instruct
vJki passengers. Very u any funny
things said and very muny funny things
did these two brilliant young men, and
it did seem ns though Providence had
been just too kind to the other passen
gers to let them ride on a train with such j
smart young men. But presently there 1
loomed up for them a colossal opportu
nity, when a lady attended by a little
girl and a little dog, came into the ear.
the two young men vied with each
other in saying funny things about the
pup. Presently the funniest-young limn
said in tones of perplexity: “ Well, let
me see, they make dogs pay on this train,
don’t they?” And then the lady turn
ed around and said in just the driest
tones you ever heard a ludy say anything,
“Then you’d better get off before the
conductor conics in.” There was a great
deal of talking and a great deal of
laughter in the ear between the place
where that accident occurred and Bur
lington*. but the(men y,lu\ wefif..willed at
the siege of Jm.'-alem were nbisy, roar
ing howling bacchanalians a week ago
in comparison with those two young
men for tiie rest of the trip.
Another .Noted lowa Prayer.
Washington Cor. JiuJ/'alo Advertiser
I remember hearing a prayer offered
in a Republican State Convention in
lowa several yenrs ago—in the Presi
dential campaign of that year. A cler
gyman of the city of lies Moir.cs, had
been invited to open the proceedings,
but he failed to meet the appointment,
and a Baptist clergyman, who was also a
member of the convention, was culled
upon, lie recognized the importance ol
the occasion as well as the value of time,
and his succinct, hut comprehensive
prayer was:
“Thou King of Hosts; God of the
Freeman, God of Liberty, God of Grace,
descend upon us at this time with Thy
divine blessing. Govern this assembly
with Thy omnipotent will, fill our hearts
with Thy rich grace, and sanctify the
proceedings of this day with thy sacred
presence. Grant us wisdom to nomi
nate a good ticket; give us our usual
forty thousand majority, and double it
if in thy infinite wisdom it shall seem
fit and proper.”
An Irishman’s Wit.
The following is an old story, hut
well deserves repetition. In a pleasant
company each one asked a question—lf
it were answered the questioner had to
pay a forfeit, or, if lie could not answer
it himself he paid a forfeit. An Irish
man asked.
“ How does the little ground-squirrel
dig his hole without throwing any dirt
about the entrance?”
When they had all given it up, Pat
said:
“Sure do you sec he begins at the
other end of the hole.”
One of the rest exclaimed:
“ But how does he get there?”
“Ah, says Pat, “ that’s your question.
Can you answer it yourself?”
A Vicksburg negro fell from the deck
of a steamboat the other day, was suck
ed under a coal barge, came up in time
to catch his breath before ho slid r
a raft a mile long, and finally scrambled
ashore down at Watertown, about seven
miles below, with the remark: “No
use tryiu’ yo kaint drown a deep-water
BnpfitV’ ’
WHOLE NO. Sti.
THE QUEEREST SOMNAMBULIST YET
Fast idwp, l t ireualacininNU tf
M artier. u
New York Sun.
At midnight on Monday a yonnfc
man with pale face cya*
walked into the Fifth street police sta
tion, and stepping up to Sergeant Ha
gerty, announced : “ I’ve come sur
render myself. I’ve killed my girl, and
I want to give myself up.”
“ Who is your girl ?” asked the ser
geant. * ——
“ Kliza Gleason of 516 East Four
teenth, and I cut her throat,” answered
the .young man.
“ How did you cut her throat f”
“ I got her head through a pano of
glass and then cut it from car to ear,”
replied the youth. The sergeant dis
patched detective Vissnrt to the young
woman’s house, and there. Vissart con
fronted her. She was ihr picture of
life, and she laughed at him heartily,
thinking lie had been April fooled.
Just as the officer went from the police
station, however, the young man turned
to go also, but Sergeant Hogcrty told
him lie was a prisoner. No notice was
paid to tills suggestion. The young
man started on. Sergeant Ilagerty
jumped over the railing and put his
hand on the youth’s shoulder. On
being touched he jumped, startled, and
glaring about him asked where lie was.
It was plain then to the sergeant that
the young man was a somnambulist,
and hail just been awakened, lie was
conducted to the wailing room. The
detective returned in a towering rago
at what he considered his April Cooling,
lie was soon followed by Mr. Gleason,
who explained that the young man was
given to walking in his sleep, lie em
phatically combatted Sergeant llager
ty’s suggestion that the young man may
have been drinking by asserting he did
not drink. His name was Peter Goby,
and his age was eighteen. He is em
ployed by and lives with Mr. Gleason,
lie was taken yesterday before Justico
Flammer at Essex Market Police Court.
The Justice took considerable interest
in ' n, having been a somnambulist
himself. Numbers of young Goby’s
friends testified that he was in the habit
of going about in this semi-conscious
state and accusing himself of all man
ner of crimes. ~
He was taken away by his friends.
f ’ The ULe fiWmes.
Boston Commercial Bulletin.
An illustration of the spirit of the
times was the following little family
scene when a bright foor-year-old little
lady imitating her elders by playing
“ make calls.”
“ Now, mamma, you be Mithcth Doncs
an I'll ho Mithcth Smith, an turn in and
mate you a tall.”
Mamma—“ Very well, Mrs. Smith,
I’m glad to see you, how do you do, and
how are the children?”
Totty—“l’m twite well I tank you,
but the children has all dot the hoopiu
toff.”
Mamma —“ I’m sorry to hear it; how
many children have you, Mrs. Smith ?”
Totty—“Oh, I has tfn, and dey is a
gate tyal to me wifi my housekeepin."
Mamma—-“They must ho. indeed.
But how docs your husband, Mr. Smith,
do?”
Totty—lie’s very well thank you,
but lie’s had bithness and lie hath failed.”
Mamma—“ I'm sorry to hear that
your husband has failed, but you haven’t
lost everything, Mrs. Smith, for I see
you make calls in your owu carriage.”
Totty—“Oh, yes! I teep my tarriage.
We has paid one cent on a dollar and
doze right on.”
The above is a faet.
A Big Log.
Quitman Free Press.
A stick ot timber 81 feet long and
squaring 22 inches at the little u|d, was
cut by Mr. Z. T. Knight and others on
his father’s place in this county, last
week. Sixteen mules were required to
transport it to the river, a distance of
six hundred yards. It is to he floated
down to Drew’s mill. A pretty huge
log we call it.
One of the greatest peculiarities in
the structure of tiie horse is the small
size of his stomach, which is also of a
very simple nature ; he is likewise with
out a gall bladder, showing that the di
gestion must be continuous, and not in
terrupted by distinct intervals, as in
I oxen, sheep and the like. Nature has
thus framed this animal in order that
he may be, at all times, able to exert
his utmost speed, which he could not
I do with the mass of provender in his
stomach which is carried by the cow or
sheep. The same provision is shown
| in the udder of the mare, which is not
i larger than that of the goat or she*p.