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[92] with great caution on the Clinton and Port Hudson road, and succeeded in capturing a scouting party and the picket posts as far as the bridge over the Amite river, which skirts the town of Clinton. About 2 o'clock in the day, Stockdale's Battalion was ordered to make a reconnoissance in the direction of Port Hudson, and, moving from camp, halted at the Amite river to water the horses. While at the bridge the command was fired upon. The enemy's advance guard, under Colonel Prince, of the Seventh Illinois Cavalry, had formed across the road, about one hundred yards distant. Major Stockdale could not for the moment believe that it was the eeemy. The writer, Who had been in Grierson's lines under a flag of truce, commanded by Lieutenant Dan Williams, now a resident of Mississippi City, recognized Colonel Prince's horse, a large sorrel with white spots, plainly, and at once informed Lieutenant Williams, who was at the head of Hoover's Company, that it was Colonel Prince, of Grierson's Cavalry. The firing now became general. Major Stockdale turned to the writer, who was in the first four, and gave orders to at once tell Logan and Powers that
Grierson was at the Bridge.’

Proceeding with all haste, this courier found General Logan, Colonels Powers and Griffith amusing themselves at a game of cards. When they were informed of the enemy being so near, the writer was then ordered to ride through the camps and order every man to fall in, which he did.

The officer in command of the battery hurriedly limbered up and got his battery to the front. Colonel Griffith ordered his Arkansas infantry to fall in on foot, and make a rush for the bridge, which Stockdale was still holding. Gage's and Garland's battalions were soon in the saddle and away to the bridge, where the roll of musketry and cracking of carbines gave assurance that the enemy would be held in check. The battery, at a run, wheeled and took up position on the right side of the road and opened fire; one of the guns burst and killed three men and wounded several. The writer hastened down to the bridge, proud of the good work he had performed, when he met Henry Stuart, one of the most gallant gentlemen who ever espoused the Confederate cause, attempting to get to some place where he could get medical attention, having been seriously wounded, and ready to fall fainting from his horse, from loss of blood.

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