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IIunt, and just above the town, they murdered Wm. Frahee.

The story runs that Morgan captured Wash. De Pauw, one of the wealthiest men of Southern Indiana, and said to him, “Sir, do you consider your flouring. mill worth $2,000 ?” Mr. De Pauw said he thought it was worth that. “Then,” said the robber chief, “you can save it for the $2,000.” Mr. De Pauw paid the money. “Now," proceeded Morgan, “do you think you woollen-mill is worth $3,000 ?” Mr. De Pauw admitted that it was probably worth more than that.

Well,” said the Rebel, “you can have it for $3,000. And Mr. De Pauw took it. So they levied $5,000 on him.

Near Corydon, William Heth, keeper of the toll-gate, fired on the Rebels. They shot him dead and burned his house. They also burned a fine stone-mill in the neighborhood; and killed Caleb Thomas and Jeremiah Nance.

Lieutenant Adams, of Morgan's band, with a squad, after burning a bridge north of Salem, went to a Quaker farmer's house, hard by, and called for some milk. The Friend demurely accompanied the Lieutenant to the spring-house, and told him to help himself and men. While drinking the milk, the following conversation occurred :

Lieutenant Adams. “You're a Quaker, ain't you ?
Friend, (very soberly.) “ Yea."
Lieutenant Adams. “Then you're an abolitionist ?"
Friend. Yea."
Lieutenant Adams, (fiercely.) "A staunch

staunch Union

man ?

Friend, (emphatically.) “Yea.”

Lieutenant Adams, (after a pause.) “Got any Butternuts around here?

Friend. “Yea."

Lieutenant Adams. “Then, why don't you hang them? We have a way of choking such people down our way.

At Salem, after burning the depot, Morgan announced his intention to burn all the mills and factories in the town, and issued orders to that effect. He afterwards reconsidered these orders, and told the owners of such property, that he would spare it upon the payment of $1,000 for each mill and factory.

These levies upon the citizens were responded to, and the money paid over to the free-booter chief. This alone saved the town from a conflagration, which the location of the mills would have rendered inevitable.

When Morgan took Colonel Craven, of Ripley, he behaved roughly at first. He asked where the Colonel lived. “At Osgood,” was the answer. “What, that little town on the railroad?” “Yes," said the Colonel. “Well,” said Morgan, “I have just sent sixty men up there to burn the town. "Burn and be d-d," said

, the Colonel, "it isn't much of a town, any how." Morgan laughed heartily, at this answer, and said: "I like the way you talk, old fellow," and released him, with the injunction to follow till the rear-guard had got past.

At Dupont, Ia., the great John himself did not exhibit that chivalry, which in some quarters has been claimed for him. He selected for his headquarters the residence of Mr. Samuel Stout. The family of Mr. Stout had retired, but were ordered to vacate their beds; this done, they were soon occupied by Morgan and his

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staff. Mrs. Stout and her daughters were ordered to prepare breakfast for the crowd, and have it ready precisely at four o'clock. Mr. Stout was told to have every thing in the best manner, and under penalty of death to awaken his guests precisely at four.

After partaking of a bountiful repast, Morgan ordered Stout to set out immediately, with his advance guard, as guide. Stout asked the privilege of taking a bite himself, before starting; but was informed that his present well-being required immediate and prompt action.

He was at once placed on an old, sharp-backed horse, without a saddle, and started on a long trot. After travelling twelve miles, Mr. Stout informed his captors that his knowledge of the roads extended no further. He was permitted to dismount, a sorer, if not a wiser man, and find his way home on foot as best he could.

Till now, in all his troubles and trials, one pleasing sensation would occasionally flit across the bewildered brain of Mr. Stout-Morgan had promised to reward him liberally ; but his visions of green-backs and gold eagles were not realized. The renowned chief had forgotten his promise.

One of the Rebels, says a correspondent of the Commercial, very cordially invited me to make a visit at his house, “when this cruel war is over.” (My house was honored with thirty or forty Rebel guests.) I gave it as my opinion, that his chances for getting home, to receive

company, were rather slim. He replied, saying, he supposed I would be pleased to hear that he and his comrades were all killed or captured. I assured him he was correct in his supposition. “I like your honesty," was the Rebel's reply.



One of them expressed great disgust at “Northern sympathizers :” said he, “if they sympathize with the South, why don't the d-d cowardly traitors come and fight for us ?" Upon the whole, I think some good will result from Morgan's raid through Indiana and Ohio.

Like a sudden clap of thunder, came Morgan among us, and passed off to the east like a meteor, leaving the natives gazing after him in stupefied horror, rubbing their eyes, and wondering whether it was all the dream of a nightmare, or a reality. Quite a number of men and boys followed in Morgan train, keeping a safe distance behind, however, hoping to recover their stolen horses.

One old Pennsylvania Dutchman, who resides in this neighborhood, (East Sycamore, Hamilton County, O.,) by some means, lost but one of his horses; he mounted the other, and hastily pursued the flying Secesh. When near Batavia, he mingled a little too close with them, as may be proved from the fact that they took the horse he rode, with saddle and bridle. It is told that he gave vent to his injured feelings by saying to the 'Reb,' who took his horse, “that is my horse, I wish, him good luck. I wish he preak your neck.” “What's that ?" thundered Secesh. “I wish my horse good luck. I wish he preak your G-tt-m neck,” repeated the candid German, with the additional expletive.

Morgan knew, before he crossed the river, who his friends were, and who had arms. Upon entering Corydon, Ia., he showed a list (and so at Salem,) of every citizen who had a IIenry rifle, or other improved arm, and immediately sent patrols to bring them in.

Where the K. G. C.'s were the thickest, there was full


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information in his possession, of all he wished to know; but when he got what he wanted, he treated his tools as badly as enemies, and bade them good-bye, by taking the horses with which they had followed to guide him.

On his way through Butler County, Morgan rested a few minutes at the house of a peace Democrat. John, in conversation, learned that his host had eight horses, and generously proposed to divide, taking four himself. The old man had to accede, and then asked advice, as to how to save the other four.

The guerrilla chief told him that his rear-guard would be along in about ten hours, (calculating that Hobson would be along in that time, and that he must cheer for Vallandigham and Jeff. Davis, to save his horseflesh.

At the expected time, Hobson's men came along, and Mr. Butternut came out, cheering lustily, as directed. Hobson doesn't see the joke, but takes off the remaining four horses. It was very wicked of Morgan to cheat and deceive an old admirer.

In taking all the horses one gentleman had, there was one, a great favorite, which he begged might be spared, offering to pay over the full price for him. “How much do you value him at?" the gentleman was asked. “Two hundred dollars," was the reply. “Produce it then, and you may keep your horse." No sooner was the money placed in the impudent rascal's hands, than he pocketed it, and led off the horse.

George T-Jr., living between New Haven and Harrison, met Hobson's men, the morning after Morgan's forces went through, and believing them some of Morgan's men, hurrahed for John Morgan, and told them he was and had been a Morgan man. A Union soldier called him to his side, and clubbed him with his carbine, knocking his infernal butternut head nearly off.

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