the correspondent elsewhere remarks: "About one hundred men were quietly arrested and brought into camp." But here was a chance to show their courage by storming the breast works of nature, made stronger by the arts of a force of "insurgents from three to five hundred strong."

The report had been extensively circulated, that a large force was strongly fortified in the mountains. Some had seen the forts, and others had seen the trail where the cannon had been dragged up to their positions. The object of this encampment, was to find and destroy these fortifications, and scatter and break up the "Fishing Creek Confederacy." They reconnoitred until they supposed they had defined the position of the enemy, and then made the necessary arrangements for the attack.

The result of this grand movement is best given in the language of John G. Freeze, Esq., of Bloomsburg, in a speech at the Nob Mountain meeting, in August, 1864. He said: "I wish I could fairly describe to you General Cadwalader's hunt after that 'fort mounting two field-pieces.' What trouble he had to get guides and scouts, (there were no intelligent contrabands in that country;) how he sent a squad of men after my old friend, James Hess; how, after a midnight ride, he captured a boy, who knew some other boy, who knew where the Fort was; how that boy did n't know, but could show them where there was a boy who did; and how, at last, somebody was found who undertook to fix the spot. Then the Major-General's scientific knowledge of military matters came into full exercise; his strategic ability had a foeman worthy of his fame; and his thousand men were divided, and located, and timed with the utmost military skill and precision. The grand Army of Fishing Creek,' in three divisions, advanced against that lonely Fort. After clambering for half a day over rocks and stones, through briers and huckleberry-bushes, and finding three or four old bear-traps, which my old friend, John McHenry, had set up there, they began to find signs of a place where somebody had been; and then, 'Look to your arms, boys, and keep your

powder dry.' And so, this valiant army progressed — each division coming up in order and at the proper time; when, suddenly surrounding the top of the mountain, they captured a place where some of your boys and girls had been having a huckleberry picnic; and that was all they ever did find. No Fort, no intrenchments, no rifle-pits, no field-pieces, no five hundred men, no rebellion, and no nothing. That was the end of the expedition; and Cadwalader, like that ancient King of Spain,

With twenty thousand men,

Marched up the hill, and then marched down again.'

"He was thoroughly disgusted; he came to Bloomsburg, and, upon his knowledge and experience as a military officer, he pronounced-I use his own words-the whole thing a farce. What then should he have done? He had arrested about one hundred of our citizens; he had incarcerated fortyfour of them in bombproofs at Fort Mifflin; he had satisfied himself, after a thorough search in all directions, that the Fort was moonshine, and the rebellion a farce; and as an honest man, as an officer deserving the name, he should have made it a personal matter to procure their release."

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Thus ended this mighty movement to put down the Fishing Creek Rebellion." And, nothing more left for them to do there, they returned down the creek, and encamped on Coleman's farm, above Stillwater. But, they were not satisfied with their success in this expedition; if they could not find men fortified in the mountains, they could find men in their unfortified homes. They, therefore, made several other arrests of citizens of Sugar-Loaf township, but, for some reason, soon released them.

The most important arrest that they made, at this time, was that of Rev. A. R. Rutan, of Fairmount, Luzerne County. We here give, in his own words, a statement from Mr. Rutan:

"I was born in New Jersey, and, when nineteen years old, came to Luzerne County, in this State, where I now reside. I have tried to preach the Gospel of peace for twenty years,

and I have always tried to practise what I preached, and to be a law-abiding citizen. But to my great surprise, on the 31st of August, 1864, three soldiers came to my house and arrested me. They said, Colonel Steward wished to see me at Benton, to make some inquiries of me about things around there; and they said I must go their orders were to arrest me, and bring me without delay. I was taken to Benton that night, about ten o'clock. I was then permitted to go where I pleased, until the next day, about one o'clock, when I was put under arrest until dark. Then, I went with Colonel Steward to see General Cadwalader, and was released on a verbal parole of honor, that I would give bail to appear at court when called for. I went home and remained there until the evening before the October election, when six drunken soldiers came to my residence, at a late hour of the night, and commanded me to open my door, or they would break it open. I opened the door. They came roughly in, and said they had come to arrest me, and that I must go immediately with them. I asked for their authority, but they gave me no satisfaction. They compelled J. W. Steel to drive my team to camp. I was taken to the camp near Coleman's--was kept there two nights, sleeping on the ground. I was then taken to Bloomsburg, and was there one night and one day, and permitted to go where I pleased, without a guard. I spent the most of that day at C. S. Fisher's. I was then taken to Harrisburg, before Judge Advocate Wessels, and from him received another verbal parole, by promising to tell what I knew about a meeting near Benton, when Mr. Hadley preached. Mr. Wessels wished me to write what I knew of this meeting, and I agreed to write; but before I had written, Samuel J. Pealer came to see me, and made arrangements with me to clear me from all further trouble with the military, or the Government, as he called it. I was to give him sixty-five dollars, a Devonshire heifer, and a fine dog, which he said would clear me of all, and there would be no more arrests made on me, and there would be no soldiers troubling my family by

coming after me. But in less than one week, three soldiers came in the night, ordered me to open the door, and said I was their prisoner. I was again taken to Harrisburg, where I was interrogated about the disloyalty of different men, of whom I knew nothing wrong. I was kept in prison until about the last of November, when I had some kind of a trial. About four weeks after my trial I was taken to Fort Mifflin, and confined there until March 1, 1865. During my imprisonment, my family had to suffer many deprivations. I lost nearly all my crops. My loss was not less than six hundred dollars, besides all the suffering of my family and myself."

Such is the modest statement of this respected clergyman. And, however humble his position as such, it shows, that no class was free from the cruel grasp of military power. While the farmer was dragged from his plough, the mechanic from his shop, and the merchant from his counter, the minister of the Gospel of peace, also, was torn from his family, and the flocks of his charge, and thrust into a filthy prison, for daring to speak in opposition to the reign of terror.

After the prisoners had been taken away, there was scarcely a man left at home: they either fled from the neighborhood, or kept out of the way in the daytime, and slept in the woods at night. Old men of more than threescore years, who had ever been good and peaceful citizens, and had labored hard to secure homes for their old days, were not willing to lie down upon their own beds in their own houses, for fear they would be gobbled up by these military cormorants.

Let us now return to Fort Mifflin, and look in upon the prisoners. Shut up for days together in that dark, damp place, with its foul air and stinking water, with its scanty and sometimes unwholesome fare, is it surprising that the health of many began to fail? Some of them became so dangerously ill, that it was necessary to remove them to the hospital. Among these was William E. Roberts, who never - His returned - he died on the sixth day of October, 1864.

friends were permitted to take charge of the body, and convey it to his home. He lies in the cemetery in Jackson Township, near the Union Church; and his grave will be long pointed out as that of one of whom it may be truthfully said, "They have murdered him."

"Sleep on, old friend, thy sleep is dreamless,

No midnight raids disturb thee now;
To thee the Tyrant's shafts are aimless,
He's struck his last, though fatal blow.

While guided by some "loyal" minion,

They reached thy distant cabin door;
And for thine honest heart's opinion,

Thee from thy wife and children tore.

With tottering steps we saw thee going,
And marked thy walking in the row;
Thine aged form 't was easy knowing,
Thy locks and beard like fleecy snow.

With cruel haste they urged thee onward,
Yes, onward to the filthy goal;

From which thy friends soon carried homeward
Thy body emptied of its soul.

Though gone, the patriot heart will cherish
Each recollection of thy name;

And from the record shall not perish,
For thou shalt have historic fame.

We leave thee in thy silent slumber;
Our feeble pen can do no more
Than mention thee among the number,
The murdered of the forty-four."

Some of the prisoners were released after several weeks' confinement, without any trial, or without knowing why they had been arrested. But few of them were ever tried; and of the whole number arrested, but seven were convicted, and they by a military commission, on testimony that would not have been received in a court of justice. Of the seven men convicted, one paid his fine, one was pardoned by President Lincoln, and five by President Johnson.