gunboat, and after an hour or two of vigorous cannonading she was driven
off. By midnight all our troops were over.

[Illustration]

About noon of the 9th the column reached the little town of Corydon,
Indiana, which proved not nearly so gentle as its name. Our
advance-guard, commanded by Colonel R.C. Morgan, found a body of militia
there, ensconced behind stout barricades of fence rails, stretching for
some distance on each side of the road. Colonel Morgan charged the
barricade, his horses could not leap it, the militia stood resolutely,
and he lost sixteen men. A few dismounted skirmishers thrown upon the
flanks, and a shot or two from one of the pieces which accompanied the
advance-guard, quickly dispersed them, however, and we entered the town
without further resistance.

Our progress, quite rapid in Kentucky, was now accelerated, and we were
habitually twenty-one hours out of the twenty-four in the saddle, very
frequently not halting at night or going into camp at all. For the first
three or four days we saw nothing of the inhabitants save in their
character as militia, when they forced themselves on our attention much
more frequently than we desired. The houses were entirely deserted.
Often we found the kitchen fire blazing, the keys hanging in the
cupboard lock, and the chickens sauntering about the yard with a
confidence which proved that they had never before seen soldiers.

As the first scare wore off, however, we found the women and children
remaining at home, while the men went to the muster. When a thirsty
cavalryman rode up to a house to inquire for buttermilk, he was
generally met by a buxom dame, with a half-dozen or more small children