rked, played, done
"many things we ought not to have done," and left undone many things it
was our duty to do; but we never saw a soap mine. We can testify before
all the world that the people of Butler County make their soap in the
usual innocent and odorous manner.

PROSPECT, Butler County, a dreamy village of the olden time.
The houses accommodate themselves to the cross-roads. One road stretches
from the county seat westward; the other from the "stone house" goes
winding along toward Pittsburg. The houses have also a contented, self
satisfied look; the stores and the tavern seem to consider themselves
permanent factors in the world's machinery. On a pleasant day an
"honorable" or two might be seen sunning themselves in front of store or
tavern, whittling, and adding dignity to the surroundings.

In this quiet village one chilly morning in December, 1863, the writer
mounted the stage-coach and went rattling over the frozen ground toward
Pittsburg, to enlist in the volunteer service. Just seventeen years ago
that very morning I had begun the business of life on rather limited
capital; and although it had been improved with considerable success,
yet the kindly prophecies, particularly of my copperhead friends, did
not portend a very lengthy nor brilliant military career. The next day I
made my way to the provost-marshal's office, and, after due examination,
was pronounced all right, and sworn into the service. If I lied about my
age, obliging memory has written it over with something else, and it is
gone from me. But I think Captain ----, of Prospect, did the lying; at
least let us hope that he has sufficiently repented of it long ere this.

I selected Company D, of the Eleventh Pennsylvania Regular Volunteer
Corps, and was assigned accordingly. The recruits were retained for some
time at Camp Copeland, then about the dreariest, most uncomfortable
place I ever saw; shelter and provisions insufficient, bad whisky and
blacklegs abundant. Joe Stewart, John Alexander, and myself tented
together here. They had enlisted for the One Hundredth Pennsylvania, the
"Roundheads." Joe was an old acquaintance. He served gallantly till the
close of the war. John was a noble boy and found a soldier's death at
Cold Harbor. After one of the fruitless charges made there, when the
Roundheads came back foiled of their purpose, John was not with them. In
the darkness of night which quickly closed around, Joe went out to
search for him. As