decides to visit murfreesboro' and meets with adventures.
"mother," said mr. josiah klegg, sr., suddenly laying down the county paper, and beginning to polish his spectacles with his red bandanna, "do you know what i've the greatest mind in the world to do?"
it was an evening in february, 1863, and the family had been sitting for some hours after supper around the bright fire, engaged in various occupations.
"no, father," said mrs. klegg, looking up from her knitting with such interest that she dropped several stitches. the girls stopped their sewing, and turned expectant eyes on their father. when mr. josiah klegg, sr., announced that he had a great mind to do anything, that thing stood in imminent danger of being done. he was not given to ordinary schemes, still less to idle speech. he thought slowly and doggedly, but when he had arrived at a conclusion there were 200 pounds of solid, stubborn unchangeable indiana farmer behind the conclusion.
"what is it, father?" asked mrs. klegg, making an automatic effort to gather up her lost stitches.
"i've a good mind to go down to murfreesboro' and161 see si," responded the father.
"why, father!" gasped the three "wimmen folks."
"go down there among them gorillas?" ejaculated mrs. klegg.
"and john morgan raiders," echoed maria.
"and secesh soljers, butternut brigands, rebel rascals," added tilda.
"well," answered mr. klegg, deliberately, "they've been peggin' away at si for a good many months now, and they haven't killed him by a jug full. guess i kin stand 'em for a few days. the papers say that the army's settled down at murfreesboro' for the winter, and that the railroad's runnin' all right from looyiville clean there. i kin do nothin' 'round the farm for the next three or four weeks, till spring opens, except the chores about the house, which jimmie watkins kin tend to as well as i kin. i've got all my fences in good shape, and split all the rails i need. there's wood enough cut to last the winter out. i've hauled all the wheat to town i'm goin' to till prices go higher. i finished gittin' out my clover seed yesterday, and now there's nothin' left for a month but to do boy's work 'round the house, or talk politics down at the store. i'd rather go down and see si."
"why, father," remonstrated mrs. klegg, "how kin you ever git along in them camps, and live the way them soljers do?"
"you forgit," said her husband, with a touch of dignity, "that i druv team for a whole week in the black hawk war. i wanted to enlist, but i was too young. then i turned out and drilled with the militia as long as there was any musters. i know a good162 deal more about war than you think."
"how do you s'pose you'll ever find si in all that ruck o' men?" said mrs. klegg doubtfully.
"o, they all know si by this time," returned the father confidently. "besides, he's an officer now. i'll go right to gen. rosecrans's headquarters. he's probably right near him, where he kin have him at any time. but don't write to si that i'm comin'. i want to surprise him."
as soon as it was seen that the father was determined to go, mother and daughters entered upon the scheme with the greatest enthusiasm.
each began to think of some useful thing that they could send to si to add to his comfort. mrs. klegg had already knit a couple of pairs of lambs'-wool socks, and was at work on a third. maria had knit a pair of mittens, gay with the national colors and representing the flag. the blue field with the white stars around the wrists, while the red and white stripes ran down the fingers. when they were put on the effect was picturesque, not to say startling.
"when si holds up his hands," remarked matilda, "they'll look like big hollyhock blossoms, and the men'll wonder where he got posies in winter."
matilda contributed a red flannel shirt, upon which she had been engaged since the beginning of winter reminded her that such a present would be very acceptable to si. she had done a lot of her finest stitching upon it. si's initials were wrought in white thread on the cuffs, and on the bosom was a maze of white lines representing hearts, anchors, roses and flags of the union. in the center of these, in letters of bold outline but rugged execution, was the legend: "josiah klegg. his shirt. from tildy."163
"round is the ring,
that has no end;
so is my luv for you,
my dearest friend."
"i know it ain't quite right to speak of si as a friend," she explained, when she spread the shirt out for the family's examination and admiration; "but i couldn't think of nothin' to rhyme with brother."
"i could," said maria, in her superior way. "i'd said somethin' like this:
"the ring's no end
from which to t'other;
so is the love i send
my onliest brother."
"maria, you always was so much smarter'n me in writin' poetry," admitted matilda. "it would've bin ever so much nicer. but it's too late now to do it over agin."
annabel was sorely puzzled what to send. she wanted something that would be indicative of her feelings toward si, and yet maiden modesty restrained with the fear of sending something that might be too significant. she spent a sleepless night thinking it over, and finally decided to send a new ambrotype of herself, with a lock of her hair. it is needless to say that this kept si warmer than a whole bale of flannel shirts would have done.
a thousand things occurred to the family that si would enjoy, from a couple of feather pillows to a164 crock of "head cheese," of which si used to be immensely fond. the old hair trunk was brought down from the garret, and its dimensions studied. but the next evening jim wilkins, of co. q, who was home patching up a leg which had caught a bullet at stone river, came in, and his advice was asked.
"no, sir-ree," said he, emphatically. "don't you never take no trunk nor no box. don't you take nothin' that you can't hang on to, and keep your eye on every minute. i think the army o' the cumberland is the most honestest army in the whole world. i'd knock any man down in a minute that hinted there was a single thief in it. all the same, the only sure way to keep anything you want is to never let go of it for a second. you'd better only take a carpetsack, and look mighty sharp after that, the nearer you git to the army. keep one eye on it all the time after you cross the ohio river, and both eyes on it when you git to murfreesboro'."
a stoutly-built, farmer-looking man entered the train 164
a week later a strongly-built, farmer-looking man entered the nashville train at louisville and looked anxiously around among the crowd of soldiers with which it was filled. his full, resolute face was destitute of whiskers, except a clump of sandy hair on his chin. he wore a coarse but warm overcoat, a black slouch hat, around his neck was a voluminous yarn comforter, and mittens of the same generous proportions were on his hands, one of which held a bulging blue umbrella and the other a large striped carpetsack.
he found a vacant seat beside a rough-looking soldier, who had evidently been drinking, placed his precious carpetsack between his heavy, well-oiled boots, stuck his umbrella beside it, unwound his comforter, laid it back on his shoulders, took off his mittens, unbuttoned his overcoat, and took from his pocket a long plug of navy tobacco, from which he cut off a liberal chew, and then courteously tendered the plug and knife to his neighbor, with the ramark:166
"have a chaw, stranger."
the soldier took the plug, cut it in two, put the bigger part in his own pocket, sliced off a liberal portion off the other for his own mouth, and then rather reluctantly handed the remainder, with the knife, back to mr. klegg, without so much as a "thankee."
"manners seem a little different in the army from what they are in injianny," thought mr. klegg; "but mebbe the soldier's not had a chance to git any terbaker for a long time."
he chewed meditatively for some minutes, and then made another friendly advance toward his seat-partner.
"s'pose we'll start purty soon, won't we, stranger?"
"the devil you do," responded the other surlily, and sending over a strong whisky breath. "don't know much about this blamed old start-when-it-pleases and stop-when-you-don't-want-to railroad. we'll start when some young sardine with shoulder-straps finishes his breakfast, and stop when john morgan tears up the track. if you didn't feed your hog's any better'n this train runs, old hayseed, they'd starve to death in a month."
"he ain't jest what you'd call perlite," thought mr. klegg, as he meditatively chewed for a little while longer. "but mebbe that's the way in the army. probably si's got jest that way, too."
he chewed meditatively for a few minutes longer. the air was getting very redolent of the fumes from his neighbor's breath. "i hope si ain't got to drinking like that," he sighed, as a particularly strong167 whiff reached him. "if he has, i won't rest a minute till i've yanked him up before gen. rosecrans and made him take the pledge. gen. rosecrans can't afford to have officers around him who drink. 'tain't right to trust men's lives to 'em."
"say, ole sorrel-top," said the soldier, turning to ward him, "give us another bite o' that terbaker o' yours, will you?"
mr. klegg did not like the tone nor the manner, but he produced his tobacco, and began prudently clipping off a fair-sized chew for his companion him self.
"o, the devil, that ain't no chaw," said the other, pulling the tobacco and knife from his hand. "don't be stingy with your terbaker, old hawbuck. you kin git plenty more."
he sliced a strip off clear across the plug, and stuffed it into his mouth.
"you don't chaw terbaker. you jest eat it," remonstrated the long-suffering mr. klegg.
"here, i'll take some o' that, too," said another soldier on the seat in front, snatching at the knife and tobacco.
"no you won't, you sardine," angrily responded the first soldier. "this gentleman's a friend o' mine. i won't see him robbed."
the reply was a blow, and the two were soon mixed up in a savage fight. mr. klegg was alarmed, lest one of them should be hurt with the heavy, sharp knife, and he mixed in to get it in his hand. in the scuffle his hat, mittens and comforter were thrown to the floor and trampled in the tobacco juice. the provost-guard rushed in, a stalwart sergeant168 separated the combatants, jammed the first soldier down in the seat until the timbers cracked, banged the other one's head against the side of the car, and remarked:
"confound you, don't either o' you raise a hand or open your mouths, or i'll break both your necks. old man, you keep mighty quiet, too. hain't you got no sense, to mix up in such a row? you're old enough to know better. i'll snatch you off this train if you make any more disturbance."
mr. klegg's blood was up. he wanted to thrash the whole crowd, including the sergeant, and felt equal to it. but the cry was raised that the train was going. the sergeant hastened off, with a parting admonition to him to keep still if he knew what was good for him.
"i'm afeared the army's a mighty rough place," thought mr. klegg, as he gathered up his soiled belongings and tried to straighten them out. "i wonder if it'll git wuss the nearer we git to the front?"
the train pulled out of louisville, and he became interested in the great banks of red earth, crowned with surly, black-mouthed cannon, where the forts were, the rows of white tents in the camps, the innumerable droves of horses and mules in the corrals, and the long trains of army wagons.
"i'm goin' to stock up with some horses when i git back," he said to himself. "the government seems to need a powerful sight o' them, and prices is goin' up faster'n wheat."
things had now been tolerably quiet in the car for over half an hour, entirely too long for a party of soldiers returning to the front. monotonous peace169 was obnoxious to them. a two-fisted young fellow up toward the front rose up, drained the last drops from a pint flask, dashed the bottle on the floor, and yelled:
"here's for a quiet life, and peace and good will.170 i belong to john f. miller's brigade, the best brigade in the army of the cumberland, and the only one that captured any guns at stone river. i can lick any man in mccook's corps."
the answering yell that went up seemed to indicate that nearly all in the car belonged to mccook's corps. there was a general peeling off of overcoats, and a rush forward of answerers to his bold challenge. a few yelled,
"hooray for miller's brigade!"
"hooray for crittenden's corps!"
"hooray for pap thomas!"
and started in to help out the miller man. mr. klegg rose to his feet in dismay. before he could think the soldier beside him picked up his carpetsack and flung it at the miller's brigade man. mr. klegg groaned as he thought of the consequences to a jar of honey and a crock of butter, which mrs. klegg had put in for si's delectation.
the free fight. 169
the combatants came together with the hearty zeal of men who had been looking for a fight for a straight month. the soldier beside mr. klegg snatched up the umbrella and began laying about him. the crash was fearful. the backs of the seats were wrenched off, the carpetsack trodden under foot, the windows broken out, and finally mr. klegg found himself on the floor of the car under a mass of struggling, fighting, striking and kicking men.
the train came to a halt at a station. the guards on the platform rushed in, and by dint of a vigorous use of gun-butts and other persuasives, and more strong language than mr. klegg had ever heard before in all his life, succeeded in quieting the171 disturbance and making the men take their seats. mr. klegg recovered his carpetsack, his comforter, mittens, hat and umbrella, and sat down again. he turned around and glared at the soldier by his side.
"if it warn't for startin' another fight," he said to himself, "i'd punch his infernal head."
but the soldier had gone to sleep; he lolled his head over in mr. klegg's lap and snored loudly.
for two or three hours afterward the train rattled along without particular incident. mr. klegg recovered his composure, and got very much interested in the country through which they were passing, and its farming possibilities. these did not strike him favorably, and he was more than ever convinced that the wabash valley was the garden spot of the world. finally, the train stopped and backed on to a switch to allow another to pass.
an enterprising man had put up a shanty near the track, with a long shelf in front, upon which were displayed sandwiches, pies, boiled eggs, and other eatables. the men all rushed out of the car. mr. klegg had begun to feel hungry himself, and joined them.
"how much for that pie?" he asked, pointing to one.
"half-a-dollar," answered the keeper. "fifty cents for pies, 25 cents for sandwiches, 10 cents for a cup of coffee."
"too blamed much," shouted a chorus of voices. "an infernal pirate come down here to skin the soldiers. let's clean him out."
before mr. klegg fairly understood the words everything was snatched up. those who did not get172 hold of any of the viands began on the shed. it was torn to pieces, the stove kicked over, the coffee spilled on the ground, and the eating-house keeper and his assistants scuttled away out of danger. the whistle sounded, they all rushed back into the cars, and mr. klegg had to stay his hunger with another chew of tobacco.
again there was tolerable peace for several hours, broken at last by the sudden stoppage of the train out in the country, the sound of shots, and the yell of "guerrillas! guerrillas!"
everybody bolted out of the cars. those who had guns buckled on their cartridge-boxes, and formed in line, ready for orders. a squad of rebel cavalry had been trying to tear up the track, but were surprised by the unexpected appearance of the train. they had fallen back to the top of the hill, to see how many were aboard, and whether it looked profitable to make an attack. they were keeping up a desultory fire at long range.
mr klegg had seen a gun standing in the corner as he ran out. he picked it up and joined one of the squads. he was no coward, and if there had to be fighting, he was willing to do his share.
mr. klegg ready for action. 172
"bully for you, old hayseed," said the man who had wanted to whip any man in the right wing of the army. "you're made of the right stuff, after all."
others around him nodded approval, and mr. klegg was conscious that the social atmosphere was more pleasant for him.
the guerrillas finally decided to give the job up, and rode away, after yelling some 'very uncomplimentary things about yankee soldiers generally.
when mr. klegg returned to his seat he found his carpetsack, umbrella, mittens, and comforter gone. likewise the man who had been riding with him. he waxed very wroth, and lifted up his voice to let them know it. several around began to guy him, but suddenly the man from miller's brigade forced his way174 through the crowd and asked:
"what's the matter, 'squire?"
mr. klegg explained.
"well, you've got to have every one of them things back again, if i've to lick every man on the train. i'll not see an old man and as good a man as you are mistreated where i am. i've got a father my self."
this time he was in the large majority. all of mccook's men were with him. a general hunt was instituted through the train, and one by one his possessions were recovered and brought back to him.
"thankee, gentlemen; thankee very kindly. will any o' you gentlemen have a chaw of terbaker? it's all i have to offer you, but it's good."
when the train pulled into nashville that night a very tired old farmer got off and inquired:
"how much farther is it to murfreesboro'?"
"about 25 miles," someone answered.
"i'm awful glad to hear it. if it was 30 miles i don't believe i could stand it."
