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 Out in Kentucky were bands of horsemen called "guerillas." One
of their chiefs, John Morgan, had made his
name a terror to loyal people.
During this year of the war, he planned a raid into
neighboring States, which was worse than any he had ever
before attempted. Crossing the Cumberland river with his
two thousand men, he marched to a little encampment of
two hundred Union soldiers.
"Surrender!" cried Morgan, riding up to the camp.
"If it were not the Fourth of July," said an officer,
coolly, "we might think about it; but Union men never
surrender on their nation's birthday." And turning to his
men, he ordered an attack on Morgan's men. So fierce and
quick was the attack that, in spite of their numbers,
Morgan thought best to ride away as fast as he could ride.
Morgan then went on to a little fort commanded by Col.
Hanson. Here, too, Morgan was met with a volley from
the little band within. In this, Morgan's brother was killed.
Then Morgan, wild with fury, set fire to the little fort, and
Hanson was forced to surrender.
On went Morgan from town to town, and from village to
village, stealing, burning, destroying the crops, tearing up
railroads and cutting telegraph wires, wherever he went.
 But this could not go on forever. When he had gone up
in this way to Ohio, the people began to think it was time
that something should be done. Troops were raised and
sent against him, and when he was all ready to cross over
into Virginia to join Lee's army, he found himself hemmed
in by Union soldiers. He was made to give up his arms
and be led away a prisoner.
He and his men were taken to a prison, and there, as
Morgan himself said afterwards, they were shaved and
washed and scrubbed, and put into their cells by a
There was another guerilla raid after Morgan's capture.
This one was led by a ruffian named Quantrell. He went
over into Kansas and fell upon the town of Lawrence, the
favorite town of "free state" people, since the days of John Brown.
It was a pretty little village, with its churches and
school-houses; lying there so peaceful and quiet on this Sabbath
Into this town rode the ruffian band, Quantrell at its
head. This was a most brutal and cowardly attack. Worse
than Morgan's even; for his had been upon soldiers usually.
This was upon a quiet little village of unarmed men and
women. The ruffians burned the houses, robbed the stores,
killed men, women and children. It was a disgraceful
affair, a cowardly, mean attack upon defenceless people.
 I am glad, however, that this was not done by any order
from the Confederate officers or the Confederate government.
It is supposed to have been done by this rough band
of men, merely for the sake of plunder, and for their
own amusement, if doing such things can be amusement.