driven in, and the rebels seeming determined to have a
bout with us before we left Kentucky. And I think our men would as soon
have fought as not on this occasion, being tired of the constant
annoyance, and ready to prove to Kentucky bushwhackers what kind of
stuff they were made of. But, fortunately for both sides doubtless, the
rebels remained outside of "Jimtown," and our forces remained inside,
resting on their arms all day, and momentarily expecting an attack,
which, however, was not made. And on the fifth of July, General Carter,
deciding doubtless that this part of the State was not worth fighting
for any longer, abandoned it to the enemy and moved his forces
northward; first to Somerset, and then to Stanford, our base of
supplies, which he continued to hold. Somerset was again reached after
three days of the most difficult marching we had ever experienced, a
heavy rain storm being in progress most of the time, rendering the
movement of the artillery and heavy-laden army wagons well nigh
impossible. With ten mules on one team, and two industrious swearers to
drive them, I was only able to make a distance of two rods through the
mire in the space of one whole hour, on one occasion during the first
day of this march, which, by the way, was on Sunday.

Of course the army could move no faster than the wagon train on this
march, as the rebels were immediately in our rear, ready to pounce upon
us if a good opportunity was offered.

Eight days of continuous marching, most of the time over the same route
we had travelled twice, and some of it three times before, and we were
again at Nicholasville, where our regiment took the cars for Cincinnati
by the way of Lexington. Our term of service had expired, but at the
request of our greatly beloved General Burnside, we remained at
Cincinnati for a week to assist in protecting that much frightened city
from the raids of the somewhat ubiquitous General Morgan, who had
preceded us from "Jimtown" to that more populous and inviting
community. Another journey of a thousand miles--not, however, on
foot--and the Twelfth Regiment was again at home.

MEMORIAL OF GEORGE H. BROWNE,

[Late Colonel of the Twelfth Regiment.]

Colonel George H. Browne departed this life at Providence on the
twenty-seventh day of September, A. D. 1885, in the sixty-eighth year of
his age, sincerely lamented by all who knew him. He was a Rhode Islander
by birth and education; thoroughly imbued with