CHAPTER XI.

The Fascinations of Cairo.

Cairo,May 29.

A drizzly, muddy, melancholy day. Never otherwise than forlorn, Cairo is pre-eminently lugubrious during a mild rain. In dry weather, even when glowing like a furnace, you may find amusement in the contemplation of the high-water mark upon trees and houses, the stilted-plank sidewalks, the half-submerged swamps, and other diluvian features of this nondescript, saucer-like, terraqueous town. You may speculate upon the exact amount of fever and ague generated to the acre, or inquire whether the whisky saloons, which spring up like mushrooms, are indigenous or exotic.

In downright wet weather you may calculate how soon the streets will be navigable, and the effect upon the amphibious natives. It is difficult to realize that anybody was ever born here, or looks upon Cairo as home. Washington Irving records that the old Dutch housewives of New York scrubbed their floors until many "grew to have webbed fingers, like unto a duck." I suspect the Cairo babies must have fins.

Long-suffering, much-abused Cairo! What wounds hast thou not received from the Parthian arrows of tourists! "The season here," wrote poor John Phenix, bitterest of all, "is usually opened with greatéclatby small-pox, continued spiritedly by cholera, and closed up brilliantly with yellow fever. Sweet spot!"

Theorists long predicted that the great metropolis of the Mississippi valley—the granary of the world—must ultimately rise here. Many proved their faith by pecuniary investments, which are likely to be permanent.

Possessed by a similar delusion, Illinois, for years, strove to legislate Alton into a vast commercial mart. But, in spite of their unequaled geographical positions, Cairo and Alton still languish in obscurity, while St.Louis and Cincinnati, twin queens of this imperial valley, succeed to their grand heritage.

Nature settles these matters by laws which, though hidden, are inexorable. Even that mysterious, semi-civilized race, which swarmed in this valley centuries before the American Indian, established their great centers of population where ours are to-day.

The Death of Douglas.

June 4.

Intelligence of the death of Senator Douglas, received last evening, excites profound and universal regret. Though totally unfamiliar with books, Mr. Douglas thoroughly knew the masses of the Northwest, down to their minutest sympathies and prejudices. Beyond any of his cotemporaries, he was a man of the people, and the people loved him. Never before could he have died so opportunely for his posthumous fame. Nothing in his life became him like the leaving of it. His last speech, in Chicago, was a fervid, stirring appeal for the Union and the Government, and for crushing out treason with an iron hand. His emphatic loyalty exerted great influence in Illinois. His life-long opponents forget the asperities of the past, in the halo of patriotism around his setting sun, and unite, with those who always idolized him, in common tribute to his memory.

We have very direct intelligence from Tennessee. The western districts are all Secession. Middle Tennessee is about equally divided. East Tennessee, a mountain region, containing few slaves, is inhabited by a hardy, primitive, industrious race. They are thoroughly, enthusiastically loyal.11

A Clear-Headed Negro.

The felicitous decision of Major-General Butler, that slaves of the enemy are "contraband of war," disturbs the Rebels not a little, even in the West. A friend just from Louisiana, relates an amusing conversation between a planter and an old, trusted slave.

"Sam," said his master, "I must furnish some niggers to go down and work on the fortifications at the Balize. Which of the boys had I better send?"

"Well, massa," replied the old servant, shaking his head oracularly, "I doesn't know about dat. War's comin' on, and dey might be killed. Ought to get Irishmen to do dat work, anyhow. I reckon you'd better not send any ob de boys—tell you what, massa, nigger property's mighty onsartin dese times!"

Scores of fugitives from the South arrive here daily, with the old stories of insult, indignity, and outrage. Several have come in with their heads shaved. To you, my reader, who have never seen a case of the kind, it may seem a trivial matter for a person merely to have one side of his head laid bare, but it is a peculiarly repulsive spectacle. The first time you look upon it, or on those worse cases, where free-born men of Saxon blood bear fresh marks of the lash, you will involuntarily clinch your teeth, and thank God that the system which bears such infernal fruits is rushing upon its own destruction.

June 8.

The heated term is upon us. We are amid upper, nether, and surrounding fires. At eight, this morning, the mercury indicated eighty degrees in the shade. How high it has gone since, I dare not conjecture; but a friend insists that the sun will roast eggs to-day upon any doorstep in town. I am a little incredulous as to that, though a pair of smarting, half-blistered hands—the result of aten minutes' walk in its devouring breath—protest against absolute unbelief. Officers who served in the War with Mexico declare they never found the heat so oppressive in that climate as it is here. The raw troops on duty, who are sweltering in woolen shirts and cloth caps, bear it wonderfully well.

A number of Chicago ladies are already here, acting as nurses in the hospital. The dull eyes of the invalids brighten at their approach, and voices grow husky in attempting to express their gratitude. According to Carlyle, "in a revolution we are all savages still; civilization has only sharpened our claws;" but this tender care for the soldier is the one redeeming feature of modern war.

A Review of the Troops.

June 12.

A review of all the troops. The double ranks of well-knit men, with shining muskets and bayonets, stretch off in perspective for more than a mile. After preliminary evolutions, at the word of command, the lines suddenly break and wheel into column by companies, and marching commences. You see two long parallel columns of men moving in opposite directions, with an open space between. Their legs, in motion, look for all the world like the shuttles in some great Lowell factory.

The artillerists fire each of their six-pounders three times a minute. They discharge one, dismount it, lay it upon the ground, remove the wheels from the carriage, drop flat upon their faces, then spring up, remount the gun, ready for reloading or removing, all in forty-five seconds.

Standing three hundred yards from the cannon, the column of smoke, white at first, but rapidly changing to blue, shoots out twenty-five or thirty feet from the muzzle before you hear the report.

The flying flags, playing bands, galloping officers, long lines of our boys in blue, and sharp metallic reports, impress you with something of the pomp and circumstance of glorious war.

But Captain Jenny, a young engineer officer, quietly remarks, that he once witnessed a review of seventy thousand French troops in the Champ de Mars, and in 1859 saw the army of seventy-five thousand men enter Paris, returning from the Italian wars. Colonel Wagner, an old Hungarian officer, who has participated in twenty-three engagements, assures you that he has looked upon a parade of one hundred and forty thousand men, whereupon our little force of five thousand appears insignificant. Nevertheless, it exceeds Jackson's recruits at New Orleans, and is larger than the effective force of Scott during the Mexican war.

A "Runnin' Nigger!"

Our first contraband arrived here in a skiff last night, bearing unmistakable evidences of long travel. He says he came from Mississippi, and the cotton-seed in his woolly head corroborates the statement. I first saw him beside the guard-house, surrounded by a party of soldiers. He answered my salutation with "Good evenin', Mass'r," removing his old wool hat from his grizzly head. He smiled all over his face, and bowed all through his body, as he depressed his head, slightly lifting his left foot, with the gesture which only the unmistakable darkey can give.

"Well, uncle, have you joined the army?"

"Yes, mass'r" (with another African salaam).

"Are you going to fight?"

"No, mass'r, I'se not a fightin' nigger, I'se a runnin' nigger!"

"Are you not afraid of starving, up here among the Abolitionists?"

Capturing a Rebel Flag.

"Reckon not, mass'r—not much."

And Sambo gave a concluding bow, indescribable drollery shining through his sooty face, bisected by two rows of glittering ivory.

June 13.

A reconnoitering party went down the Mississippi yesterday upon a Government steamer, under command of Colonel Richard J. Oglesby, colloquially known among the Illinois sovereigns of the prairie as "Dick Oglesby."

Twenty miles below Cairo, we slowly passed the town of Columbus, Ky., on the highest bluffs of the Mississippi. The village is a straggling collection of brick blocks, frame houses, and whisky saloons. It contains no Rebel forces, though seven thousand are at Union City, Tenn., twenty-five miles distant.

On a tall staff, a few yards from the river, a great Secession flag, with its eight stars and three stripes, was triumphantly flying.

Turning back, after steaming two miles below, the boat was stopped at the landing; the captain went on shore, cut down the flag, and brought it on board, amid cheers from our troops. The Columbians looked on in grim silence—all save four Union ladies, who,

"Faithful among the faithless only they,"

waved handkerchiefs joyfully from a neighboring bluff.

Each star of the flag bore the name in pencil of the young lady who sewed it on. The Maggies, and Julias, and Sues, and Kates, and Sallies, who thus left their autographs upon their handiwork, did not anticipate that it would so soon be scrutinized by Yankee soldiers. And, doubtless, "Julia K----," the damsel whose star I pilfered, scarcely aspired to the honor of furnishing a relic forThe Tribunecabinet.

And thus the whirligig of Time brings in his revenges.Twelfth Night, or What You Will.Bloody instructions, which being taught, returnTo plague the inventors.Macbeth.

And thus the whirligig of Time brings in his revenges.

Twelfth Night, or What You Will.

Bloody instructions, which being taught, returnTo plague the inventors.

Macbeth.

The Retributions of Time.

On the 15th of June I returned from Cairo to St. Louis. Lyon had gone up the Missouri River with an expedition, which was all fitted out and started in a few hours. Lyon was very much in earnest, and he knew the supreme value of time in the outset of a war.

How just are the retributions of history! Virginia originated State Rights run-mad, which culminated in Secession. Behold her ground between the upper and nether mill-stones! Missouri lighted the fires of civil war in Kansas; now they blazed with tenfold fury upon her own soil. She sent forth hordes to mob printing-presses, overawe the ballot-box, substitute the bowie-knife and revolver for the civil law. Now, her own area gleamed with bayonets; the Rebel newspaper was suppressed by the file of soldiers, civil process supplanted by the unpitying military arm.

Governor Claiborne F. Jackson, in 1855, led a raid into Kansas, which overthrew the civil authorities, and drove citizens from the polls. Now, the poisoned chalice was commended to his own lips. A hunted fugitive from his home and his chair of office, he was deserted by friends, ruined in fortune, and the halter waited for his neck. Thomas C. Reynolds, late Lieutenant-Governor, by advocating the right of Secession, did much to poison the public mind of the South. He, too, foundhis reward in disgrace and outlawry; unable to come within the borders of the State which so lately delighted to do him honor!

A Railroad Reminiscence.

I followed Lyon's Expedition by the Pacific railway. The president of the road told me a droll story, which illustrates the folly that governed the location of the railway system of Missouri. The Southwest Branch is about a hundred miles long, through a very thinly settled region. For the first week after the cars commenced running over it, they carried only about six passengers, and no freight except a live bear and a jar of honey. The honey was carried free, and the freight on Bruin was fifty cents. Shut up in the single freight car, during the trip, he ate all the honey! The company were compelled to pay two dollars for the loss of that saccharine esculent. Thus their first week's profits on freight amounted to precisely one dollar and fifty cents on the wrong side of the ledger.

The Rebels had now evacuated Jefferson City, and our own troops, commanded by Colonel Bœrnstein, a German editor, author, and theatrical manager, of St. Louis, were in peaceable possession. The soldiers were cooking upon the grass in the rear of the Capitol, standing in the shade of its portico and rotunda, lying on beds of hay in its passages, and upon carpets in the legislative halls. They reposed in all its rooms, from the subterranean vaults to the little circular chamber in the dome.

Untainted with "B. Republicanism."

Governor and Legislature were fled. With Colonel Bœrnstein, I went through the executive mansion, which had been deserted in hot haste. Sofas were overturned, carpets torn up and littered with letters and public documents. Tables, chairs, damask curtains, cigar-boxes, champagne-bottles, ink-stands, books, private letters, and family knick-knacks, were scattered everywherein chaotic confusion. Some of the Governor's correspondence was amusing. The first letter I noticed was a model of brevity. Here it is—its virgin paper unsullied by the faintest touch of "B. Republicanism."

Jefferson City, fed. 21nd 1861."to his Honour Gov.C. F. Jackson.—Please Accept My Compliments. With a little good Old Bourbon Whisky Cocktail. Made up Expressly in St Louis. fear it not. it is good. And besides it is not even tainted with B. Republicanism. Respectfully yours,"P. Naughton."

Jefferson City, fed. 21nd 1861.

"to his Honour Gov.C. F. Jackson.—Please Accept My Compliments. With a little good Old Bourbon Whisky Cocktail. Made up Expressly in St Louis. fear it not. it is good. And besides it is not even tainted with B. Republicanism. Respectfully yours,

"P. Naughton."

There was a ludicrous disparity between the evidences of sudden flight on all sides and the pompous language of the Governor's latest State paper, which lay upon the piano in the drawing-room:

"Now, therefore, I, C. F. Jackson, Governor of the State of Missouri, do issue this my proclamation, calling the militia of the State, to the number of FIFTY THOUSAND, into the service of the State. * * * Rise, then, and drive out ignominiously the invaders!"

Beds were unmade, dishes unwashed, silver forks and spoons, belonging to the State, scattered here and there. The only things that appeared undisturbed were the Star Spangled Banner and the national escutcheon, both frescoed upon the plaster of the gubernatorial bedroom.

As we walked through the deserted rooms, a hollow echo answered to the tramp of the colonel and his lieutenant, and to the dull clank of their scabbards against the furniture.

General Lyon opened the war in the West by the battle of Booneville. It lasted only a few minutes, and the undisciplined and half-armed Rebel troops, after a faint show of resistance, retreated toward the South. Lyon's command lost only eleven men.

A Belligerent Chaplain.

During the engagement, the Rev. William A. Pile, Chaplain of the First Missouri Infantry, with a detail of four men, was looking after the wounded, when, coming suddenly upon a party of twenty-four Rebels, he ordered them to surrender. Strangely enough, they laid down their arms, and were all brought, prisoners, to General Lyon's head-quarters by their five captors, headed by the reverend representative of the Church militant and the Church triumphant.

Messrs. Thomas W. Knox and Lucien J. Barnes, army correspondents, zealous to see the first battle, narrowly escaped with their lives. Appearing upon a hill, surveying the conflict through their field-glasses, they were mistaken by General Lyon for scouts of the enemy. He ordered his sharpshooters to pick them off, when one of his aids recognized them.

Booneville, Mo.,June 21.

The First Iowa Infantry has arrived here. On the way, several slaves, who came to its camp for refuge, were sent back to their masters.

Humors of the Iowa Solders.

The regiment contains many educated men, and that large percentage of physicians, lawyers, and editors, found in every far-western community. On the way here, they indulged in a number of freaks which startled the natives. At Macon, Mo., they took possession ofThe Register, a hot Secession sheet, and, having no less than forty printers in their ranks, promptly issued a spicy loyal journal, calledOur Whole Union. The valedictory, which the Iowa boys addressed to Mr. Johnson, the fugitive editor, in his own paper, is worth perusing.

"VALEDICTORY."Johnson, wherever you are—whether lurking in recesses of the dim woods, or fleeing a fugitive on open plain, under the broad canopyof Heaven—good-by! We never saw your countenance—never expect to—never want to—but, for all that, we won't be proud; so, Johnson, good-by, and take care of yourself!"We're going to leave you, Johnson, without so much as looking into your honest eyes, or clasping your manly hand—even without giving utterance, to your face, of 'God bless you!' We're right sorry, we are, that you didn't stay to attend to your domestic and other affairs, and not skulk away and lose yourself, never to return. Oh, Johnson! why did you—how could you do this?"Johnson, we leave you to-night. We're going where bullets are thick and mosquitos thicker. We may never return. If we do not, old boy, remember us. We sat at your table; we stole from your 'Dictionary of Latin Quotations;' we wrote Union articles with your pen, your ink, on your paper. We printed them on your press. Our boys set 'em up with your types, used your galleys, your 'shooting-sticks,' your 'chases,' your 'quads,' your 'spaces,' your 'rules,' your every thing. We even drank some poor whisky out of your bottle."And now, Johnson, after doing all this for you, you won't forget us, will you? Keep us in mind. Remember us in your evening prayers, and your morning prayers, too, when you say them, if you do say them. If you put up a petition at mid-day, don't forget us then; or if you awake in the solemn stillness of the night, to implore a benison upon the absent, remember us then!"Once more, Johnson—our heart pains us to say it—that sorrowful word!—but once more and forever, Johnson,Good-By! If you come our way, Call! Johnson, adieu!"

"VALEDICTORY.

"Johnson, wherever you are—whether lurking in recesses of the dim woods, or fleeing a fugitive on open plain, under the broad canopyof Heaven—good-by! We never saw your countenance—never expect to—never want to—but, for all that, we won't be proud; so, Johnson, good-by, and take care of yourself!

"We're going to leave you, Johnson, without so much as looking into your honest eyes, or clasping your manly hand—even without giving utterance, to your face, of 'God bless you!' We're right sorry, we are, that you didn't stay to attend to your domestic and other affairs, and not skulk away and lose yourself, never to return. Oh, Johnson! why did you—how could you do this?

"Johnson, we leave you to-night. We're going where bullets are thick and mosquitos thicker. We may never return. If we do not, old boy, remember us. We sat at your table; we stole from your 'Dictionary of Latin Quotations;' we wrote Union articles with your pen, your ink, on your paper. We printed them on your press. Our boys set 'em up with your types, used your galleys, your 'shooting-sticks,' your 'chases,' your 'quads,' your 'spaces,' your 'rules,' your every thing. We even drank some poor whisky out of your bottle.

"And now, Johnson, after doing all this for you, you won't forget us, will you? Keep us in mind. Remember us in your evening prayers, and your morning prayers, too, when you say them, if you do say them. If you put up a petition at mid-day, don't forget us then; or if you awake in the solemn stillness of the night, to implore a benison upon the absent, remember us then!

"Once more, Johnson—our heart pains us to say it—that sorrowful word!—but once more and forever, Johnson,Good-By! If you come our way, Call! Johnson, adieu!"

One of the privates in the regular army has just been punished with fifty lashes on the bare back, for taking from a private house a lady's furs and a silk dress.

This morning I passed a group of the Iowa privates, resting beside the road, along which they were bringing buckets of water to their camp. They were debating the question whether a heavy national debt tends to weaken or to strengthen a Government! These are the men whom the southern Press calls "ignorant mercenaries."

St. Louis,July 12.

The Missouri State Journal, which made no disguise of its sympathy with the Rebels, is at last suppressed by the military authorities. It was done to-day, by order of General Lyon, who is pursuing the Rebels near Springfield, in the southwest corner of the State. Secessionists denounce it as a military despotism, but the loyal citizens are gratified.

Camp Tales of the Marvelous.

Are you fond of the marvelous? If so, here is a camp story about Colonel Sigel's late engagement at Carthage:

A private in one of his companies (so runs the tale), while loading and firing, was lying flat upon his face to avoid the balls of the Rebels, when a shot from one of their six-pounders plunged into the ground right beside him, plowed through under him, about six inches below the surface, came out on the other side, and pursued its winding way. It did not hurt a hair of his head, but, in something less than a twinkling of an eye, whirled him over upon his back!

If you shake your head, save your incredulity forthis: A captain assures me that in the same battle he saw one of Sigel's artillerists struck by a shot which cut off both legs; but that he promptly raised himself half up, rammed the charge home in his gun, withdrew the ramrod, and then fell back, dead! This is, at least, melo-dramatic, and only paralleled by the ballad-hero

——"Of doleful dumps,Who, when his legs were both cut off,Still fought upon his stumps."

Who can be * * * * *Loyal and neutral in a moment? No man.Macbeth.Why, this it is when men are ruled by women.Richard III.

Who can be * * * * *Loyal and neutral in a moment? No man.

Macbeth.

Why, this it is when men are ruled by women.

Richard III.

It was a relief to escape the excitement and bitterness of Missouri, and spend a few quiet days in the free States. Despite Rebel predictions, grass did not grow in the streets of Chicago. In sooth, it wore neither an Arcadian nor a funereal aspect. Palatial buildings were everywhere rising; sixty railway trains arrived and departed daily; hotels were crowded with guests; and the voice of the artisan was heard in the land. Michigan Avenue, the finest drive in America, skirting the lake shore for a mile and a half, was crowded every evening with swift vehicles, and its sidewalks thronged with leisurely pedestrians. It afforded scope to one of the two leading characteristics of Chicago residents, which are, holding the ribbons and leaving out the latch-string.

Corn not Cotton is King.

I did not hear a single cry of "Bread or Blood!" As the city had over two million bushels of corn in store, and had received eighteen million bushels of grain during the previous six months, starvation was hardly imminent. War or peace, currency or no currency, breadstuffs will find a market. Corn, not cotton, is king; the great Northwest, instead of Dixie Land, wields the sceptre of imperial power.

The elasticity of the new States is wonderful. Wisconsin and Illinois had lost about ten millions of dollarsthrough the depreciation of their currency within a few months. It caused embarrassment and stringency, but no wreck or ruin.

Reminiscences of the financial chaos were entertaining. New York exchange once reached thirty per cent. The Illinois Central Railroad Company paid twenty-two thousand five hundred dollarspremiumon a single draft. For a few weeks before the crash, everybody was afraid of the currency, and yet everybody received it. People were seized with a sudden desire to pay up. The course of nature was reversed; debtors absolutely pursued their creditors, and creditors dodged them as swindlers dodge the sheriff. Parsimonious husbands supplied their wives bounteously with means to do family shopping for months ahead. There was a "run" upon those feminine paradises, the dry-goods stores, while the merchants were by no means anxious to sell.

Suddenly prices went up, as if by magic. Then came a grand crisis. Currency dropped fifty per cent., and one morning the city woke up to find itself poorer by just half than it was the night before. The banks, with their usual feline sagacity, alighted upon their feet, while depositors had to stand the loss.

Curious Reminiscences of Chicago.

Persons who settled in Chicago when it was only a military post, many hundred miles in the Indian country, relate stories of the days when they sometimes spent three months on schooners coming from Buffalo. Later settlers, too, offer curious reminiscences. In 1855, a merchant purchased a tract of unimproved land near the lake, outside the city limits, for twelve hundred dollars, one-fourth in cash. Before his next payment, a railroad traversed one sandy worthless corner of it, and the company paid him damages to the amount of eleven hundred dollars. Before the end of the third year, whenhis last installment of three hundred dollars became due, he sold the land to a company of speculators for twenty-one thousand five hundred dollars. It is now assessed at something over one hundred thousand.

Visit to the Grave of Douglas.

On a July day, so cold that fires were comforting within doors, and overcoats and buffalo robes requisite without, I visited the grave of Senator Douglas, unmarked as yet by monumental stone. He rests near his old home, and a few yards from the lake, which was sobbing and moaning in stormy passion as the great, white-fringed waves chased each other upon the sandy shore.

With the arrival of each railway train from the east, long files of immigrants from Norway and northern Germany come pouring up Dearborn street, gazing curiously and hopefully at their new Land of Promise. One of the many railroad lines had brought twenty-five hundred within two weeks. There were gray-haired men and young children. All were attired neatly, especially the women, with snow-white kerchiefs about their heads.

They were bound, mainly, for Wisconsin and Minnesota. Men and women are the best wealth of a new country. Though nearly all poor, these brought, with the fair hair and blue eyes of their fatherland, honesty, frugality, and industry, as their contribution to that great crucible which, after all its strange elements are fused, shall pour forth the pure and shining metal of American Character.

Social Habits of the Germans.

Missouri, at the commencement of the war, had two hundred thousand Germans in a population of little more than one million. Almost to a man, they were loyal, and among the first who sprang to arms.

In the South, they were always regarded with suspicion.The Rebels succeeded in dragooning but very few of them into their ranks. Honor to the loyal Germans!

According to some unknown philosopher, "an Englishman or a Yankee is capital; an Irishman is labor; but a German is capital and labor both." Cincinnati, at the outbreak of the Rebellion, contained about seventy thousand German citizens, who for many years had contributed largely to her growth and prosperity.

A visit to their distinctive locality, called "Over the Rhine," with its German daily papers, German signs, and German conversation, is a peep at Faderland.

Cincinnati is nearer than Hamburg, the Miami canal more readily crossed than the Atlantic, and that "sweet German accent," with which General Scott was once enraptured, is no less musical in the Queen City than in the land of Schiller and Göethe. Why, then, should one go to Germany, unless, indeed, like Bayard Taylor, he goes for a wife? The multitudinous maidens—light-eyed and blonde-haired—in these German streets, would seem to remove even that excuse.

When Young America becomes jovial, he takes four or five boon companions to a drinking saloon, pours down half a glass of raw brandy, and lights a cigar. Continuing this programme through the day, he ends, perhaps, by being carried home on a shutter or conducted to the watch-house.

But the German, at the close of the summer day, strolls with his wife and two or three of his twelve children (the orthodox number in well-regulated Teutonic families) to one of the great airy halls or gardens abounding in his portion of the city. Calling for Rhein wine, Catawba, or "zwei glass lager bier und zwei pretzel," they sit an hour or two, chatting with friends, andthen return to their homes like rational beings after rational enjoyment. The halls contain hundreds of people, who gesticulate more and talk louder during their mildest social intercourse than the same number of Americans would in an affray causing the murder of half the company; but the presence of women and children guarantees decorous language and deportment.

The laws of migration are curious. One is, that people ordinarily go due west. The Massachusetts man goes to northern Ohio, Wisconsin, or Minnesota; the Ohioan to Kansas; the Tennesseean to southern Missouri; the Mississippian to Texas. Great excitements, like those of Kansas and California, draw men off their parallel of latitude; but this is the general law. Another is, that the Irish remain near the sea-coast, while the Germans seek the interior. They constitute four-fifths of the foreign population of every western city.

The Early Days of Cincinnati.

In 1788, a few months before the first settlement of Cincinnati, seven hundred and forty acres of land were bought for five hundred dollars. The tract is now the heart of the city, and appraised at many millions. As it passed from hand to hand, colossal fortunes were realized from it; but its original purchaser, then one of the largest western land-owners, at his death did not leave property enough to secure against want his surviving son. Until 1862, that son resided in Cincinnati, a pensioner upon the bounty of relatives. As, in the autumn of life, he walked the streets of that busy city, it must have been a strange reflection that among all its broad acres of which his father was sole proprietor, he did not own land enough for his last resting-place. "Give him a little earth for charity!"

Many high artificial mounds, circular and elliptical, stood here when the city was founded. In after years,as they were leveled, one by one, they revealed relics of that ancient and comparatively civilized race, which occupied this region before the Indian, and was probably identical with the Aztecs of Mexico.

Upon the site of one of these mounds is Pike's Opera House, a gorgeous edifice, erected at an expense of half a million of dollars, by a Cincinnati distiller, who, fifteen years before, could not obtain credit for his first dray-load of whisky-barrels. It is one of the finest theaters in the world; but the site has more interest than the building. What volumes of unwritten history has that spot witnessed, which supports a temple of art and fashion for the men and women of to-day, was once a post from which Indian sentinels overlooked the "dark and bloody ground" beyond the river, and, in earlier ages, an altar where priests of a semi-barbaric race performed mystic rites to propitiate heathen gods!

A City Founded by a Woman.

Cincinnati was built by a woman. Its founder was neither carpenter nor speculator, but in the legitimate feminine pursuit of winning hearts. Seventy years ago, Columbia, North Bend, and Cincinnati—all splendid cities on paper—were rivals, each aspiring to be the metropolis of the West. Columbia was largest, North Bend most favorably located, and Cincinnati least promising of all.

But an army officer, sent out to establish a military post for protecting frontier settlers against Indians, was searching for a site. Fascinated by the charms of a dark-eyed beauty—wife of one of the North Bend settlers—that location impressed him favorably, and he made it head-quarters. The husband, disliking the officer's pointed attentions, came to Cincinnati and settled—thus, he supposed, removing his wife from temptation.

The Aspirations of the Cincinnatian.

But as Mark Antony threw the world away for Cleopatra's lips, this humbler son of Mars counted the military advantages of North Bend as nothing compared with his charmer's eyes. He promptly followed to Cincinnati, and erected Fort Washington within the present city limits. Proximity to a military post settled the question, as it has all similar ones in the history of the West. Now Cincinnati is the largest inland city upon the continent; Columbia is an insignificant village, and North Bend an excellent farm.

In architecture, Cincinnati is superior to its western rivals, and rapidly gaining upon the most beautiful seaboard cities. Some of its squares are unexcelled in America. A few public buildings are imposing; but its best structures have been erected by private enterprise. The Cincinnatian is expansive. Narrow quarters torture him. He can live in a cottage, but he must do business in a palace. An inferior brick building is the specter of his life, and a freestone block his undying ambition.

From the Queen City I went to Louisville. Though communication with the South had been cut off by every other route, the railroad was open thence to Nashville.

Treason and Loyalty in Louisville.

Kentucky was disputed ground. Treason and Loyalty jostled each other in strange proximity. At the breakfast table, one looked up from his New York paper, forty-eight hours old, to see his nearest neighbor perusingThe Charleston Mercury. He foundThe Louisville Courierurging the people to take up arms against the Government.The Journal, published just across the street, advised Union men to arm themselves, and announced that any of them wanting first-class revolvers could learn something to their advantage by calling upon its editor. In the telegraph-office, theloyal agent of the Associated Press, who made up dispatches for the North, chatted with the Secessionist, who spiced his news for the southern palate. On the street, one heard Union men advocate the hanging of Governor Magoffin, and declare that he and his fellow-traitors should find the collision they threatened a bloody business. At the same moment, some inebriated "Cavalier" reeled by, shouting uproariously "Huzza for Jeff. Davis!"

Here, a group of pale, long-haired young men was pointed out as enlisted Rebel soldiers, just leaving for the South. There, a troop of the sinewy, long-limbed mountaineers of Kentucky and East Tennessee, marched sturdily toward the river, to join the loyal forces upon the Indiana shore. Two or three State Guards (Secession), with muskets on their shoulders, were closely followed by a trio of Home Guards (Union), also armed. It was wonderful that, with all these crowding combustibles, no explosion had yet occurred in the Kentucky powder-magazine.

While Secessionists were numerous, Louisville, at heart loyal, everywhere displayed the national flag. Yet, although the people tore to pieces a Secession banner, which floated from a private dwelling, they were very tolerant toward the Rebels, who openly recruited for the Southern service. Imagine a man huzzaing for President Lincoln and advertising a Federal recruiting-office in any city controlled by the Confederates!

Prentice of the Louisville Journal.

"The real governor of Kentucky," said a southern paper, "is not Beriah Magoffin, but George D. Prentice." In spite of his "neutrality," which for a time threatened to stretch out to the crack of doom, Mr. Prentice was a thorn in the side of the enemy. His strong influence,throughThe Louisville Journal, was felt throughout the State.

Visiting his editorial rooms, I found him over an appalling pile of public and private documents, dictating an article for his paper. Many years ago, an attack of paralysis nearly disabled his right hand, and compelled him ever after to employ an amanuensis.

His small, round face was fringed with dark hair, a little silvered by age; but his eyes gleamed with their early fire, and his conversation scintillated with that ready wit which made him the most famous paragraphist in the world. His manner was exceedingly quiet and modest. For about three-fourths of the year, he was one of the hardest workers in the country; often sitting at his table twelve hours a day, and writing two or three columns for a morning issue.

At this time, the Kentucky Unionists, advocating only "neutrality," dared not urge open and uncompromising support of the Government. When President Lincoln first called for troops,The Journaldenounced his appeal in terms almost worthy ofThe Charleston Mercury, expressing its "mingled amazement and indignation." Of course the Kentuckians were subjected to very bitter criticism. Mr. Prentice said to me:

"You misapprehend us in the North. We are just as much for the Union as you are. Those of us who pray, pray for it; those of us who fight, are going to fight for it. But we know our own people. They require very tender handling. Just trust us and let us alone, and you shall see us come out all right by-and-by."

The State election, held a few weeks after, exposed the groundless alarm of the leading politicians. It resulted in returning to Congress, from every district butone, zealous Union men. Afterward the State furnished troops whenever they were called for, and, in spite of her timid leaders, finally yielded gracefully to the inexorable decree of the war, touching her pet institution of Slavery.

First Union Troops of Kentucky.

I paid a visit to the encampment of the Kentucky Union troops, on the Indiana side of the Ohio, opposite Louisville. "Camp Joe Holt" was on a high, grassy plateau. Unfailing springs supplied it with pure water, and trees of beech, oak, elm, ash, maple, and sycamore, overhung it with grateful shade. The prospective soldiers were lying about on the ground, or reading and writing in their tents.

General Rousseau, who was sitting upon the grass, chatting with a visitor, looked the Kentuckian. Large head, with straight, dark hair and mustache; eye and mouth full of determination; broad chest, huge, erect, manly frame.

His men were sinewy fellows, with serious, earnest faces. Most of them were from the mountain districts. Many had been hunters from boyhood, and could bring a squirrel from the tallest tree with their old rifles. Byron's description of their ancestral backwoodsmen seemed to fit them exactly:

"And tall and strong and swift of foot were they,Beyond the dwarfing city's pale abortions,Because their thoughts had never been the preyOf care or gain; the green woods were their portions.Simple they were, not savage; and their rifles,Though very true, were yet not used for trifles."

The history of this brigade was characteristic of the times. Rousseau scouted "neutrality" from the outset. On the 21st of May, he said from his place in the Kentucky Senate:

"If we have a Government, let it be maintained and obeyed. If a factious minority undertakes to override the will of the majority and rob us of our constitutional rights, let it be put down—peaceably if we can, but forcibly if we must. * * * Let me tell you, sir, Kentucky will not 'go out!' She will not stampede. Secessionists must invent something new, before they can either frighten or drag her out of the Union. We shall be but too happy to keep peace, but we cannot leave the Union of our fathers. When Kentucky goes down, it will be in blood! Let that be understood."

Struggle in the Kentucky Legislature.

In that Legislature, the struggle between the Secessionists and the Loyalists was fierce, protracted, and uncertain. Each day had its accidents, incidents, telegraphic and newspaper excitements, upon which the action of the body seemed to depend.

In firm and determined men, the two parties were about equally divided; but there were a good many "floats," who held the balance of power. These men were very tenderly nursed by the Loyalists.

The Secessionists frequently proposed to go into secret session, but the Union men steadfastly refused. Rousseau declared in the Senate that if they closed the doors he would break them open. As he stands about six feet two, and is very muscular, the threat had some significance.

Buckner, Tighlman, and Hanson12—all afterward generals in the Rebel army—led the Secessionists. Theyprofessed to be loyal, and were very shrewd and plausible. They induced hundreds of young men to join the State-Guard, which they were organizing to force Kentucky out of the Union, though its ostensible object was to assure "neutrality."

What Rebel Leaders Pretended.

"State Rights" was their watchword. "For Kentucky neutrality," first; and, should the conflict be forced upon them, "For the South against the North." They worked artfully upon the southern partiality for the doctrine that allegiance is due first to the State, and only secondly to the National Government.

Governor Magoffin and Lieutenant-Governor Porter were bitter Rebels. The Legislature made a heavy appropriation for arming the State, but practically displaced the Governor, by appointing five loyal commissioners to control the fund and its expenditure.

In Louisville, the Unionists secretly organized the "Loyal League," which became very large; but the Secessionists, also, were noisy and numerous, firm and defiant.

On the 5th of June, Rousseau started for Washington, to obtain authority to raise troops in Kentucky. At Cincinnati, he met Colonel Thomas J. Key, then Judge-Advocate of Ohio, on duty with General McClellan. Key was alarmed, and asked if it were not better to keep Kentucky in the Union by voting, than by fighting. Rousseau replied:

"As fast as we take one vote, and settle the matter, another, in some form, is proposed. While we are voting, the traitors are enlisting soldiers, preparing to throttle Kentucky and precipitate her into Revolution as they have the other southern States. It is our duty to see that we are not left powerless at the mercy of those who will butcher us whenever they can."

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