threw us bouquets. Ah, those were halcyon days,
and your old soldier, kind reader, loves to recall that happy period.
Mumfordsville had been captured with five thousand prisoners. New
recruits were continually joining our ranks.

Camp Dick Robinson, that immense pile of army stores, had fallen into our
hands. We rode upon the summit of the wave of success. The boys had got
clean clothes, and had their faces washed. I saw then what I had long
since forgotten--a "cockade." The Kentucky girls made cockades for us,
and almost every soldier had one pinned on his hat. But stirring events
were hastening on, the black cloud of battle and war had begun then to
appear much larger than a man's hand, in fact we could see the lightning
flash and hear the thunder roar.

We were at Harrodsburg; the Yankees were approaching Perryville under
General Buell. The Yankees had been dogging our rear, picking up our
stragglers and capturing some of our wagon trains.

This good time that we were having was too good to last. We were in an
ecstasy akin to heaven. We were happy; the troops were jubilant; our
manhood blood pulsated more warmly; our patriotism was awakened; our
pride was renewed and stood ready for any emergency; we felt that one
Southern man could whip twenty Yankees. All was lovely and the goose
hung high. We went to dances and parties every night.

When General Chalmers marched to Perryville, in flanking and surrounding
Mumfordsville, we marched the whole night long. We, the private soldiers,
did not know what was going on among the generals. All that we had to do
was march, march, march. It mattered not how tired, hungry, or thirsty
we were. All that we had to do was to march that whole night long,
and every staff officer who would pass, some fellow would say, "Hey,
mister, how far is it to Mumfordsville?" He would answer, "five miles."
It seemed to me we traveled a hundred miles and were always within five
miles of Mumfordsville. That night we heard a volley of musketry in our
immediate front, and did not know what it meant, but soon we came to
where a few soldiers had lighted some candles and were holding them
over the body of a dead soldier. It was Captain Allison, if I remember
rightly, of General Cheatham's staff. He was very bloody, and had his
clothes riddled with balls. I heard that he rode on in front of the
advance guard of our army, and had no doubt discovered the Yankee picket,
and came gallo