met on the road, to surround each house, and guard it until daylight, and then to arrest every man and well-grown boy that should be found. These squads took different directions; one portion of them taking the main road down the creek, dividing off at each cross-road, until they reached nearly every house as far down as Stillwater, a distance of four miles. Another portion proceeded up the main road, and so dividing off at each cross-road, as before, until they extended their guards into Sugar-Loaf and Jackson. Another squad advanced as far as Cambria and Columbus, near the line, in Luzerne County. Such was the secrecy of their movements, that the people knew not of their coming until they found themselves surrounded. As many of these houses lie off from the main roads, and some of them in obscure places, the question arises, How did the soldiers know where to go? or who piloted them to their destinations?

Let the Republicans of Benton hang their heads with shame, whenever these questions are asked; for each one of them knows best to what house he led the way, and well knew, also, the object of the search. In some instances, relatives were reported by relatives; thus fulfilling the Scripture- for prophecy, as well as history, often repeats itself — "A man's enemies shall be those of his own household."

But the night of fearful apprehension to the inhabitants of those mountain homes was drawing to a close. The gray light of the morning began to creep along the eastern hills, and day dawned to witness one of the most shameful and illegal military exploits ever performed by men calling themselves guardians of American liberty. What a libel upon the name of freedom! What a prostitution of military power! And what a fearful demonstration of the danger of an army guided by political opinions, and pushed forward by the force of party spirit! At the approach of day, the opening of each door was demanded, and every man, found about the premises, was ordered to "fall in," without time, in many instances, to prepare for decency or comfort. They were all marched to the Benton Church. Among the number col

lected, there were a few whose names were not on the "roll of honor." These were dismissed, while the remainder (fortyfour in number) were hurried off without food, save what little was brought to them hastily by their friends. It was a sad spectacle, indeed, to the few who were left behind, to see this mournful procession as it passed along. Here were the aged, whose locks were whitened by the frosts of threescore years, some of them tottering on their feet through illness. Here, also, were the able-bodied and the young, the rich and the poor, and those who held high places in life, all huddled together, surrounded by bayonets, and hurried forward, like cattle to the slaughter-pen, or slaves to the galleys. And this, in that beautifully secluded valley, where the rippling waters dance to the music of freedom, and where the murmur of the gentle breeze seemed to rebuke the spirit of the tyrant. And this, too, in the United States of Americathe boasted home of the oppressed of all the earth — a nation of the freest people on the globe, whose star-spangled banner is a respected passport to every harbor in the world, and a pledge of protection to every child at home.

But on move the tyrant's minions, driving forward their victims, to their filthy destination. Greatly to the disappointment of the prisoners, instead of stopping at Bloomsburg, they were hurried to the cars, and conveyed to Philadelphia, and thence, on the afternoon of the same day, to Fort Mifflin.

One thing, observable on this march, was the unnecessary cruelty practised toward them. Some of them were arrested and taken from their homes without breakfast, and all of them were conveyed the whole distance to Philadelphia, and kept until the next day, before any food was furnished them. In addition to this, they were marched and countermarched through the streets of the city, up one street and down another, footsore, hungry, some of them sick, and all worn out, until old men wept like children, and young men cursed the perpetrators of so foul a wrong.

Fort Mifflin is located on the Delaware River, six miles

from Philadelphia. It was built to protect the interests of that great city from the invasion of a foreign foe; but, like most of our northern Forts, during the late war, it was prostituted to the uses of a political prison. Its situation is most unhealthy, and its internal arrangements, as a prison, of the most shocking character. The particular part of the Fort, into which these unoffending citizens of Columbia County were thrust, was bombproof No. 3, the dimensions of which are given in the sworn statement of Mr. Wm. Appleman, as follows:

"We arrived in Philadelphia at eight or nine o'clock in the morning, (September 1,) and were taken to the Barracks at Fifth and Buttonwood Streets. Here, at noon, we obtained something to eat, tincups of soup, and some bread and meat, which was the first food furnished us from the time of our arrest. At the Benton Church, some eatables were sent to us from the house of John J. Stiles, by his direction, (he being one of the prisoners,) which was all we had had. Myself and sons were taken from home before breakfast. On the afternoon of the same day, we were taken to Fort Mifflin, and put in bombproof No. 3. This bombproof is partly below the level of the river, is arched overhead, and has thick walls of stone and brick. By stepping it, we made its width to be nineteen feet, and its length fifty-four feet. This was the space allotted to the prisoners, forty-four in number. One of the original prisoners had been discharged before we arrived at the Fort, on the ground that he had been arrested by mistake

"Air and light were imperfectly admitted on one side, and at one end of the bombproof, through openings in the wall, perhaps a dozen in number. The main ones may have been four inches wide by a foot in height on the outside, widening toward the interior. The floor was of hard earth or gravel, and firm. On the sides, scantling was laid on the ground, lengthwise of the room; and across these, boards were placed. Again, at the ends of the boards next the wall, short pieces of scantling or blocks were laid at intervals, end

wise to the walls, across which boards were placed, forming a narrow platform along the walls a few inches high. This constituted a substitute for pillows, the lower and wider platform answering the purpose of a bed. A single soldier's blanket was furnished to each man, but no bedding-not even a little straw. The room was very damp and wet at times; the water came through the arch overhead, from the earth upon it, dropping down in the part farthest from the fire. To check this dampness, it was necessary to have a fire constantly in the grate at one end of the room; but this was not sufficient, although attended night and day. The fire was also useful to some extent in procuring ventilation; and from the chilliness of the room it was required for comfort, even in September.

Our prison fare was as follows: To each a loaf of baker's bread for the day, one slice of boiled pork or beef at noon, and a tin of coffee morning and night. Sometimes one tin of bean or pea soup was substituted at dinner for the slice of meat. On three or four occasions, we drew potatoes, boiled in the skins, instead of soup, at dinner. Several times the meat was not good, and five or six times there was none furnished. The prisoners, however, purchased provisions for themselves, to some extent, at enormous rates. The expense incurred in this way was very considerable during the time I remained in confinement. Half of a single candle was furnished at night for the whole room, so we were obliged to furnish lights at our own expense. We were supplied with a filth-tub, made by sawing a barrel across the middle, and standing upright on the closed end. A stick was run across it, through holes bored a little way below the top, and thus provision was made for its being carried by two men. It had no cover. For about three weeks it stood in the gangway or entrance passage, outside the door of our prison-room, during the day-time. Afterward, upon my application, we were permitted to keep it during the day in an empty room adjoining the gangway. Two of the prisoners occasionally took it out under guard. Always at night it was necessarily

kept in our room, the door being locked. This whole matter was a great grievance.

"The prisoners were mostly over forty years of age, and accustomed to active employment, upon whom imprisonment bore severely. About the end of September, Wm. E. Roberts and John Yorks were taken sick with bowel complaints, and were removed to the hospital, near the Fort. Roberts died about ten days afterward."

But we will leave the prisoners a while in their gloomy cell and return to camp. Having made the foregoing arrests, the "Army of Fishing. Creek" broke camp and proceeded up the creek about ten miles, and rested at the foot of the mountain. The situation of this encampment, and the object of this move, are stated by a correspondent of the "Philadelphia Inquirer," of September 6, 1864, thus:

"On Friday, we once more took up our line of march, and are now in the mountains. Our camp is located in a valley on the east branch of Fishing Creek. Mountains are all around us. The valley is barely wide enough for our camp, the mountains on each side rising almost perpendicularly for over seven hundred feet. Of course, I am not aware of the information possessed at headquarters; but from all that I can learn, the insurgents are encamped in a gorge in the mountains, where they have intrenchments, mounting two field-pieces. They are said to be from three to five hundred strong, and from their location, it will be extremely difficult to approach them with sufficient numbers to overcome their very strong position. It is the prayer of every soldier in the command, that they remain and give us fight. We hardly have hopes of this from the cowardly course they have pursued up to this time. Still they are hemmed in, and may be brought to bay.

"The Army of Fishing Creek,' commanded by General Cadwalader in person, is spoiling for a fight, and is praying that the insurgents will give them an opportunity of achieving something worthy of their mighty powers, and the labors and expense of a thousand men."

They had obtained one victory, but that was bloodless, as