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Austin Macy, of Montgomery County, Ohio, by the Rebels in Kentucky. The letter gives the following details of the courageous manner in which he met his fate, and we doubt if the annals of the war, so prolific of heroism, can parallel young Macy's audacious gallantry.
Macy belonged to an Ohio regiment, stationed at Camp Dick Robinson, Kentucky, and was sent out with a detachment on a scouting expedition. After a time he became separated from his party, and soon discovered a party of Secesh, who did not notice him. Concealing himself, he fired on and succeeded in killing seven of them, before they saw where he was hidden.
There being no further chance, Macy attempted to escape, but unfortunately, his horse threw him, severely injuring and disabling him. He was thereupon easily captured by the Rebels, who deliberately shot him seven times, wounding and mangling him in a most dreadful manner, but not killing him. He was still able to raise up and shoot his eighth man! An end was then put to this gallant hero by bayonetting him, and his mangled remains were then thrown into a mudhole. He was in his twenty-second year.
The above particulars were obtained from a Union woman, who witnessed a part of the affair, which occurred on her farm. She plead unsuccessfully with the leader of the Rebel party, for the privilege of burying Mr. Macy's corpse. He had not the humanity to grant her request.
When once a man descends to be a wicked heartless Rebel,
A SAD AND REMARKABLE INCIDENT.
In the second year of the war, a private in the 19th Indiana regiment was tried by a court-martial for deserting his post, and found guilty, the punishment for which is death. His execution was deferred for some time, and he was kept in a painful state of suspense. At last the day was fixed for his execution, and five regiments were drawn up in line to witness it, while a file of twelve men were in advance to execute the sentence of death by shooting him.
The prisoner was led forward blindfolded, and the usual words of preparation and command were given, in a low, measured tone, by the officer in command. During the interval between the commands—“Take aim,” and “Fire," and before the last was given, a horseman rode rapidly up the road, waving in the air a paper, which was understood by all to be a reprieve. Covered with dust and perspiration, the horseman rode hurriedly up to the officer in command, and delivered to him what really proved to be a reprieve.
The shout "reprieve" fell upon the poor soldier's ear. which was already strained to the utmost, in anticipation of hearing the last, and final word that was to usher his soul into the presence of his Creator—it was too much for him, and he fell back upon his coffin, apparently dead. The bandage was removed from his eyes, but reason had taken its flight, and he became a hopeless maniac. He was discharged from the army, and sent home to his friends.
His death had really never been intended, but it was necessary for the good order and discipline of the army, to make an impression upon not only himself, but the whole brigade; for which purpose the forms of the execution were regularly gone through with in its presence, and the reprieve arrived in good time, as intended.
It was sought by this means to solemnly impress upon
the minds of the soldiers, the necessity of a strict observance of duty and obedience, under the penalty of an ignominious death. It was a fearful ordeal for the deserter, and it is questionable whether to him the completion of the tragedy would not have been better than the actual result.
ONE of the most daring and successful exploits of the war, was performed by four men, on Saturday night, May 1st, 1863, on Rock creek, in Wayne county, Kentucky. Benjamin Burk, a citizen; Hudson Burk, a discharged soldier; James Burk, of Wolford's cavalry, and a citizen named James Davis, having received intimation of a band of twenty-eight men, under command of Captain Evans, of the famous band of Rebel robbers, that infested Wayne and Clinton counties, known as Champ Ferguson's men, having stopped at the house of Jonathan Burk to spend the night, determined to attempt their capture.
Four men against twenty-eight fiends, who had reveled in the blood of innocent neighbors, for a yearthink of it! It seemed like madness, yet the attempt was made. Coming to a sentinel, who stood guard over their thirty-one horses, Davis ordered him to surrender his gun, which the coward did, and received in return a blow from it that knocked his brains out. The way was now clear to the house, where the remainder of the party were asleep. Surrounding the dwelling, they at once raised a hideous yell, crying, “Wolford ! Wolford!” at the top of their voices.
The Rebels awakened by the noise, supposed that Wolford's cavalry, whom they dreaded as they did death, was upon them, sprang from their beds, leaving their clothes and guns behind, and rushed for the doors.
Out they rushed with nothing on but their shirts and drawers, some without the latter even, to take leg-bail. Hudson Burk met Captain Evans at the door; both fired at the same time. Burk was slightly wounded in the head, but the infamous Evans was instantly killed. Four others were slain, and the remainder of the party escaped.
They abandoned every thing; all their horses, personal property, guns, and several thousand dollars in greenbacks, in addition to a considerable amount of Confederate money. Nothing remained for the victorious few to do, but to gather up the fruits of their victory, which they divided with William Milligan, a prisoner, whom they had released from the clutches of the marauders.
STORY LXV I.
ROMANCE OF THE WAR.-A HEROINE,
The following narrative appeared in the Louisville Journal early in May, 1863:
A few weeks since, a captain, accompanied by a young soldier apparently about seventeen years of age, arrived in this city in charge of some Rebel prisoners.
During their stay in the city, the young soldier alluded to had occasion to visit headquarters, and at once attracted the attention of Colonel Mundy as being exceedingly sprightly, and possessed of more than ordinary intelligence. Being in need of such a young man at Barracks No. 1, the colonel detailed him for service in that institution.
A few days subsequently, however, the startling secret was disclosed, that the supposed young man was a young lady, and the fact was established beyond doubt by a soldier who was raised in the same town with her, and knew her “parents.” She “acknowledged the corn,” and begged to be retained in the position to which she had been assigned; having been in the service ten months, she desired to serve during the war. Her wish was accordingly granted, and she is still at her post.
On learning the facts above stated, we took occasion to visit the barracks, and was introduced to “Frank Martin,” (her assumed name) and gleaned the following incidents connected with her extraordinary career during the past ten months.
Frank was born near Bristol, Pa., and her parents reside in Alleghany city, where she was raised. They