art of the road; climbing the pole, he attached his battery,
and "click, click, click," he inquires of our operator at
head-quarters, "How many troops have you altogether, that can, at any
pressing event, be sent to aid us if we attack Lee?" Just as he
concluded the query, one of the ever-vigilant pickets of the Indiana
regiments, who infest the woods and roads in every direction, espied
the gentleman, and brought him into camp with his non-confiscated
horse. A minute more and the fellow, doubtless, would have been fully
informed, as he had guarded against cipher-telegraphing by
telegraphing that the cipher-operator was out, and the general wanted
an immediate answer.

Our boys continue to scour the woods, and constantly are finding
Secesh documents. The following _beautiful poem_ is from the pen of
Miss M. H. Cantrell, of Jonesboro, Tennessee, and was found in the
pocket of a "Secesher," who had invaliantly fled, dropping his
overcoat and love-epistles. It is entitled:

SWEETHARTS AGAINST WAR.

O Dear! its shameful I declare
To make the men all go
And leive so manny sweetharts here
Wit out a single bough.

We like to see them leave 'tis true,
And wold not urge them stay;
But what are we poor girls to do
When you are all away?

We told you we cold spare you here
Before you had to go,
But Bless your Harts, wernt aware
That we would miss you sow.

We miss you all in manny ways,
But troth will ware out;
The gratest things we miss you for
Joy going withe out.

On Sunday when we go to church,
We look in vane for sum
To mete us smilin on the porch,
And ask to see us home.

And then we dont enjoy a walk
Since all the bows have gone;
For what the good to us plain talk
If we must trip alone?

But what the use talkin thus
We will try to beecontent
And if you cannot come to us
A message may bee cent.

And that one comfort any way
Although we are Apart,
There is no reason why we may
Not open hart to hart.

We trust it may not ever come
To any War like test,
We want to see our Southern home
Secured in peaceful rest.

But if the blood of those we love
In freedoms cause must floo,
With fervent trust in Lov Above
We bid them onward go.

Written By your friend,