de and
said "Howdy." I responded by a dignified nod of the head. I at once
entered upon business, and told them the conditions upon which they
could become Uncle Samuel's volunteer soldiers. I stated that I would
call a surgeon in order to ascertain if they were physically qualified
to enlist. I asked them what they proposed to do with their horses,
suggesting that if they were serviceable, they would be bought for our
service. They then said that they came from the mountains that lay
partly in North Carolina and partly in Tennessee; that they wanted to
keep their horses and go home upon them once a week. I explained that if
they enlisted in our service they could go home only at times when
furloughs might be granted them, and that meantime they would be
expected to be in camp or with their commands at all times, day and
night. This they said they could not agree to. They would be ready at
any time to a fight, if their services were required, and this they
thought was all that should be required of them. Under such conditions,
it is evident that the fifty or more mountaineers did not enlist. This
ceremony took place on each of the two or three following days, and I
tired of this service.

I did not secure a single recruit, and when our battery was ordered to
Blue Springs, I was only too pleased to turn over the office to a
captain of infantry, who was as successful recruiting as I had been.
Another little episode happened to me just before I entered upon the
recruiting service. It became necessary for Captain Buckley to send to
Knoxville a commissioned officer to report to General Burnside. Our
pickets extended about two miles out from Loudon towards Knoxville, and
from Knoxville toward Loudon about the same distance. The railroad was
not in use at that time, so it was necessary to make the twenty-six
miles outside of our lines.

It was about four P. M., when I learned from the captain that I was the
favored officer to report at Knoxville. It was suggested that I need not
start until dawn next morning, still I was at liberty to leave at once.
I considered the matter a moment and decided to leave that day at dark.
There was no moon, but it had all the indications of a bright starlight
night. I had my best horse, a thoroughbred Kentuckian, fed at once. I
took my sabre and revolver, with a light lunch, and at dark I quietly
left camp for my ride to Knoxville. The road to Knoxville was direct
and plain. Nearly half the di