Locke then resumed:
“I must stop this digression. Parson Aughey, are you in favour of the South?”
“I am in favour of the South, and have always endeavoured to promote the best interests of the South. However, I never deemed it for the best interests of the South to secede. I talked against secession, and voted against secession, because I thought that the best interests of the South would be put in jeopardy by the secession of the Southern States. I was honest in my convictions, and acted accordingly. Could the sacrifice of my life have stayed the swelling tide of secession, it would gladly have been made.”
“It is said that you have never prayed for the Southern Confederacy.”
“I have prayed for the whole world, though it is true that I have never named the Confederate States in prayer.”
“You may retire.”
After I had retired, the committee held a long consultation. My answers were not satisfactory. I never learned all that transpired. They brought in no formal verdict. The majority considered me a dangerous man, but feared to take my life, as they were, with one exception, adherents of other denominations, and they knew that my people were devotedly attached to me before the secession movement. Some of the secessionists swore that they would go to my house and murder me, when they learned that the committee had not hanged me. My friends provided me secretly with arms, and I determined to defend myself to the last. I slept with a double-barrelled shot-gun at my head, and was prepared to defend myself against a dozen at least.
Learning that I was not acceptable to many of the members of my church, whilst my life was in continual jeopardy, and my family in a state of constant alarm, I abandoned my field of labour, and sought for safety in a more congenial clime. I intended to go North. Jeff. Davis and his Congress had granted permission to all who so desired, to leave the South. Several Union men of my acquaintance applied for passports, but were refused. The proclamation to grant permits was an act of perfidy; all those, so far as I am informed, who made application for them, were refused. The design in thus acting was to get Union men to declare themselves as such, and afterwards to punish them for their sentiments by forcing them into the army, confining them in prison, shooting them, or lynching them by mob violence. Finding that were I to demand a passport to go north, I would be placed on the proscribed list, and my life endangered still more, I declared my intention of going back to Tishomingo county, in which I owned property, and which was the home of many of my relatives. I knew that I would be safer there, for this county had elected Union delegates by a majority of over fourteen hundred, and a strong Union sentiment had always prevailed.
On my arrival in Tishomingo, I found that the great heart of the county still beat true to the music of the Union. Being thrown out of employment I deemed it my duty, in every possible way, to sustain the Union cause and the enforcement of the laws. It was impossible to go north. Union sentiments could be expressed with safety in many localities. Corinth, Iuka, and Rienzi had, from the commencement of the war, been camps of instruction for the training of Confederate soldiers. These three towns in the county being thus occupied, Union men found it necessary to be more cautious, as the cavalry frequently made raids through the county, arresting and maltreating those suspected of disaffection. After the reduction of Forts Henry and Donelson, and the surrender of Nashville, the Confederates made the Memphis and Charleston railroad the base of their operations, their armies extending from Memphis to Chattanooga. Soon, however, they were all concentrated at Corinth, a town in Tishomingo county, at the junction of the Memphis and Charleston railroad with the Mobile and Ohio. After the battle of Shiloh, which was fought on the 6th and 7th of April, the Federal troops held their advance at Farmington, four miles from Corinth, while the Confederates occupied Corinth, their rear guard holding Rienzi, twelve miles south, on the Mobile and Ohio railroad.
Thus there were two vast armies encamped in Tishomingo county. Being within the Confederate lines, I, in common with many others, found it difficult to evade the conscript law. Knowing that in a multitude of counsellors there is wisdom, we held secret meetings, in order to devise the best method of resisting the law. We met at night, and had our countersigns to prevent detection. Often our wives, sisters, and daughters met with us. Our meeting-place was some ravine, or secluded glen, as far as possible from the haunts of the secessionists; all were armed; even the ladies had revolvers, and could use them too. The crime of treason we were resolved not to commit. Our counsels were somewhat divided, some advocating, as a matter of policy, the propriety of attending the militia musters, others opposing it for conscience’ sake, and for the purpose of avoiding every appearance of evil. Many who would not muster as conscripts, resolved to escape to the Federal lines; and making the attempt two or three at a time, succeeded in crossing the Tennessee river, and reaching the Union army, enlisted under the old flag, and have since done good service as patriot warriors. Some who were willing to muster as conscripts, were impressed into the Confederate service, and I know not whether they ever found an opportunity to desert. Others, myself among the number, were saved by the timely arrival of the Federal troops, and the occupation of the county by them, after Beauregard’s evacuation of Corinth. I had received three citations to attend muster, but disregarding them, I was summoned to attend a court-martial on the first day of June, at the house of Mr. Jim Mock. The following is a copy of the citation.
Parson Awhay, You havent tended nun of our mustters as a konskrip. Now you is her bi sumenzd to attend a kort marshal on Jun the fust at Jim Mock.
When I received the summons, I resolved to attempt reaching the Union lines at Farmington. Two of my friends, who had received a similar summons, expected to accompany me. On the 29th of May, I left for Rienzi, where my two friends were to meet me. I had not been many hours in Rienzi when it became evident that the Confederates were evacuating Corinth. On the 1st of June, (the day the court-martial was to convene,) I had the pleasure of once more beholding the star-spangled banner as it was borne in front of General Granger’s command, which led the van of the pursuing army. Had I remained and attended the court-martial, I would have been forced into the army. Were I then to declare that I would not take up arms against the United States, I would have been shot, as many have been, for their refusal thus to act. General Rosecrans, on his arrival, made his head-quarters at my brother’s house, where I had the pleasure of forming his acquaintance, together with that of Generals Smith, Granger, and Pope. As this county was now occupied by the Federal army, I returned to my father-in-law’s, within five miles of which place the court-martial had been ordered to convene, considering myself comparatively safe. I learned that the court-martial never met, as Colonel Elliott, in his successful raid upon Boonville, had passed Jim Mock’s, scaring him to such a degree, that he did not venture to sleep in his house for two weeks. The Union cavalry scoured the country in all directions, daily, and we were rejoicing at the prospect of continuous safety, and freedom from outrage.
The Rebels, during their retreat, had burned all the cotton which was accessible to their cavalry, on their route. At night, the flames of the burning cotton lighted up the horizon for miles around. These baleful pyres, with their lurid glare, bore sad testimony to the horrors of war. In this wanton destruction of the great southern staple, many poor families lost their whole staff of bread, and starvation stared them in the face. Many would have perished, had it not been for the liberal contributions of the North; for, learning the sufferings of the poor of the South, whose whole labour had been destroyed by pretended friends, they sent provisions and money, and thus many who were left in utter destitution, were saved by this timely succor. I have heard the rejoicings of the poor, who, abandoned by their supposed friends, were saved, with their children, from death, by the beneficence of those whom they had been taught to regard as enemies the most bitter, implacable, unmerciful, and persistent. Their prayer may well be, Save us from our friends, whose tender mercies are cruel! I have never known a man to burn his own cotton, but I have heard their bitter anathemas hurled against those who thus robbed them, and their denunciations were loud and deep against the government which authorized such cruelty. It is true that those who thus lose their cotton,
