ies. It was known that the Southern element was extremely active;
that recruiting for the Confederate army was going on; and at last, the
name of Calhoun Pennington was mentioned. Some one who knew him well
declared that he had seen him, and it was common report he was back
recruiting for Morgan's command. The Federal commander at Danville was
ordered to keep a close watch on the house of Judge Pennington to see if
it was not visited by his son.

It was on the evening of May 2d, and Calhoun was in Lexington when he was
startled by hearing the news-boys crying, "Pulaski, Tennessee, captured by
John Morgan!" "He is headed north, closely pursued by the Federal forces!"

Then Morgan had commenced his raid. There was no time to be lost. That
night, the next day, and the next night horsemen could be seen galloping
furiously along unfrequented roads, throughout central Kentucky. The word
was, "Meet at the rendezvous near Harrodsburg." Three days afterwards, two
hundred of the best, the bravest, and the noblest youths of Kentucky were
ready to march to join Morgan. Each one of them had provided his own
outfit. They asked no pay to fight for their beloved South.

Before going, Calhoun determined to pay his father one more visit,
although he knew it was dangerous to do so. Concealing his horse in a
thicket outside the limits of the city, he waited until dark, then stole
across fields, and through alleys home.

No sooner did the Judge see him than he cried, "Calhoun! Calhoun! what
have you done! Do you know they are on the watch for you?"

"I had to see you once more before I went," answered Calhoun. "I was
careful, and I do not think any one saw me come. I have some things of
importance to tell you."

Father and son talked together for some five minutes in low, confidential
tones, when they were interrupted by Jennie Freeman bursting unannounced
into the room and crying, "Run, Cal, run! the soldiers are coming! They
are most here!" And before either could say a word, she was out again like
a flash.

"Who would have thought it, of that Abolitionist Freeman's daughter,"
gasped the Judge. "Fly, my boy, fly! and may God protect you."

Calhoun knew his danger. Grasping his trusty revolver, he cried,
"Good-bye, all," and ran through the house to pass out by the back way.
Just as he reached the door, it was opened, and he fairly rushed into the
arms of a soldier who was entering. So surprised were both that they could
only stare