Rensselaer Republican, Volume 15, Number 36, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 May 1883 — SÈUBG A BATTKE FUEKD. [ARTICLE]

SÈUBG A BATTKE FUEKD.

He was from Syracuse, and he said he’d give almost anything to see a battle field. It was therefore arranged that we should go up to Fort Pillow in company. I never saw such an enthusiast on the subject of war and fields of carnage. He went out and bought three war histories before we left Mem phis, and on the way up he talked war to every man who would listen to him. I warned him not to expect to see too much, and not to be disappointed if Greeley, Headley and Abbott had made some errors in describing the lay of fields which none of them had seen within 500 miles. “Oh, of course not,” he replied. “I don’t expect to see more than a fort, five or six bursted cannon, a few skulls, half a dozen cannon wheels and a lot of musket barrels. I shall bring away about a dozen swords and revolvers as relics, and I wonder what it would cost to get one of the old cannon up to Syracuse?” When the boat swung in at Fort Pillow I saw my friend’s-chin begin to fall. The landing was a steep slide for a distanoe of 100 feet, and the mud was a foot deep. We dropped off the gangplank, and the steamer went her way. “W-what’s this?” inquired the Syracuse man, as ho looked up the grade. “ijhis is a historic bluff. Prepare to see a battle field.* We tugged and strained and swore, and finally reached the bluff, each man plastered with mud from his collar-but-ton down.

“Now, then,” said I, after we had scraped off a part, or our loads, “over there is the fort. You can see where all the big guns were mounted. Above it must be the citadel. Over to the right is the ravine up which Forrest’s men advanced, and—” “See here,” interrupted the gentleman from New York, “do you call this a battle-field ?” “Certainly.” ' “This infernal sand—those thickets —that swamp—them two nigger cabins, are a battlefield, eh?” “Of course.” “Well, sir, it’s an infernal fraud—a dead swindle on honest men, and I’ve got a good mind to punch your head for bringing me up here! Battle-field, eh? Why, sir, if f couldn’t take ten acres of Northern tamarack swamp and make a better battle-field than this I’d never look a decent man in the face again! Go on with you! You are a liar and a deceiver!” And he went off and sat down on a log and sulked and growled and grumbled for six long hours, and when I showed him bullets and breastplates and other relics, he charged me with having brought them up from Memphis in my pockets. —As. Quad.