against a tree, and then jabbed the point of his bayonet
through the ball thereof. I heard Capt. Reddish in bitter language
charge him with this afterwards, and poor Sam just hung his head and
said nothing. When the regiment veteranized in 1864, Sam didn't
re-enlist, and was mustered out in February, 1865, at the end of his
term of service. On returning to his old home, he found that his
reputation in the army had preceded him, and it is likely that the
surroundings were not agreeable. At any rate, he soon left there,
emigrated to a southwestern State, and died there several years ago. In
my opinion, he really was to be sincerely pitied, for I think, as he
had told me at Bolivar, he just "couldn't help it."

We advanced this day (December 19) only two or three miles beyond Salem
Cemetery, and bivouacked for the night in an old field. The weather had
changed, and was now quite pleasant; besides, the embargo on fires was
lifted, so the discomfort of the previous night was only something to
be laughed about. The next day we were afoot early, and marched east in
the direction of Lexington about fifteen miles. But we encountered no
enemy, and on December 21 turned square around and marched back to
Jackson. Gen. Forrest was in command of the Confederate cavalry
operating in this region, and he completely fooled Gen. J. C. Sullivan,
the Union commander of the district of Jackson. While we were on this
wild-goose chase towards Lexington, Forrest simply whirled around our
flanks at Jackson, and swept north on the railroad, scooping in almost
everything to the Kentucky line, and burning bridges and destroying
culverts on the railroad in great shape.

During our short stay that ensued at Jackson, an event occurred that I
have always remembered with pleasure. In 1916 I wrote a brief
preliminary statement touching this Salem Cemetery affair, followed by
one of my army letters, the two making a connected article, and the
same was published in the Erie (Kansas) "Record." It may result in some
repetition, but I have concluded to here reproduce this published
article, which I have called, "A Soldier's Christmas Dinner."

A SOLDIER'S CHRISTMAS DINNER.

By Judge Leander Stillwell.

Christmas Day in the year eighteen hundred and sixty-two was a
gloomy one, in every respect, for the soldiers of the Union army in
West Tennessee. Five days before, the Confederate General Van Dorn
had captured Grant's depot of supp