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 troopers with which he had started from far-away Tennessee, he had scarcely two thousand left. He could find sufficiently strenuous employment for this force without running into a labyrinth of unfamiliar streets and among houses, every one of which might be made a fortress from which an unseen enemy, soldier or citizen, could shoot his men from their horses, causing confusion, if not irretrievable disaster. The men in the ranks and the officers as well, were worn and demoralized by the fatigue of continuous marching and the loss of sleep. Besides, General Morgan had given himself a particular work to perform. He was going to Buffington Island before attempting to re-cross the river—as planned before starting on the long raid. The night march aroung the city was extremely difficult and hazzardous. The many suburban roads were confusing, especially as the night was intensely dark. Small bonfires of paper and such inflammable material as could be found were used to light the way. The danger of taking the wrong .road was always imminent, the rear battalions often being at a loss to ascertain which one of the many roads had been taken by those in advance, from whom they had been separated by reason of much straggling and the confusion incident to the darkness of the night, the horses' tracks on the much-traveled roads furnishing no clew as to the route taken by General Morgan, who rode in front. The direction in which the dust ‘settled or floated’ was the most reliable guide, as when the night is calm, as on this occasion, the dust stirred up by a column of cavalry will remain suspended in the air for a time, moving slowly in the same direction that the horses which have disturbed it are traveling. Strong men fell from their saddles, and at every halt the officers, themselves exhausted, were compelled to use heroic measures to arouse the men who, having fallen from their horses, were sleeping in the road. Not a few crept off into the fields and slept until they awoke to find themselves in the hands of the enemy. When day dawned the column had passed through Glendale, a beautiful suburban village, within sight of the city's spires, and was near the Little Miami Railroad, the last point where Morgan thought he would encounter serious
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