Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1865-01-05
DoDGEvILLE, WISCONSIN, THURSDAY, JANUARY s. 1868

butt end Of a small cowhide. Each sol
dior held his gun at his side, and laying
hold Of said butt end, drew out the long,
taper belly and dangling lash Of the
whip, like black snake, by the neck.
The widow screamed. 'It's all a
mistake Let me go--I amt Miss
Stackridge.'
Nothing so natural as that the wife Of
the notorious Unionist should deny her
identity at the sight Of the two whips.
The soldiers looked at each other, NUT
tered something in German smiled, and
replaced their muskets in the corner,
"Iou tell us where is your husband,
or else We whip you. Dat is our orders" :"
/ This they said in low tones, with mild
looks, and calmness that was frightful
The widow saw that she had to do with
men who obeyed orders literally, and
! knew no mercy.
Il hain't got no husband. I ain t
Stackridge. I'm a poor lone widow
that S just come over here to borry few
things, and that S all. .
eve understand You say shust now
you are Mrs. Stackridge. Now you say
not. Dat make 10 difruns We know.
You tell Us where is your husband, or
we string you up"
This speech was pronounced by both
the foreigners in sentence by each al
ternately. At the conclusion one drew
a strong cord from his pocket, while the
other looked with satisfaction at certain
hooks in the plastering overhead, design
ed originally for the use of a kitchen
pole, but now destined for another use.
Don't you dast to fetch me y scream
ed the widow. I'm a sccessionist, my
self, that hates the Union-shreikers
wus'n you do, and I've got son that's a
capting, and poor lone widow at that. .
Dat we don't know What we know
is, you tell what we say or we whip you.
OATS Captain Shprowl's orders
Captain sprowl! That's my son
my own son IF he sent you then it's all
right"
The soldiers, scizing her, tied her
hands as Lysandcr had taught them,
passed the cords over the hook as they
passed the clothes line over the cross
beam the night before, aud drew the
shreking woman's hands above her head
precisely as they had hauled up Toby $.
Then they turned her skirts up over her
head and fastened them. This also they
had been instructed to by Lysander.--
It was, you will say, shameful ; for this
woman was free and white. Had she
been slave, with different complexion,
although, perhaps, quite as white, would
Il have been any the less shameful:
CHOW will you tell?" said the phleg-
natic Toutons, measuring out then
whips
go for my son--my son is Captine
Sprowl = gasped the tcrror-stricken wild
oW.
dat trick won't d. You shpeak OF
we strike"
ut is true! It is true. I am Miss
, Sprowl, and my husband is dead, and
my son is Capting Sprowl, and a poor
lone widder, that if you strike her sin
gle blow he'll have took and hung.
I'll he is your son, den by his orders
we whip you He will not hang US fol
dat. You will not tell--den we give yoy
ten lash. =
Blow upon blow, shrek upon shrek
followed, The soldiers counting eacl
stroke aloud, deliberately and conscien
tiously, as they gave them, 'von, two
tree, Sc, up to ten. They were stop
ped But the screams did not stop
This punishment, which it was sport t.
in6ict upon faithful old negro, which i
would have been such a good joke to have
, bestowed upon the wife of a stauncl
Unionist, was no joke, no sport, bu
altogether trag affair to my mother
, @, Lysander Then she, who so otter
| wished that she, too, owned slaves, tina
when she was angry she might have then
strung up and hogged, Then she, wht
sympathizcd with her son in his desire
to see every man, woman and child that
| loved the old Union served in this fashion
) felt in her own writing and bleedin:
flesh, the stings of that inhuman ven
geance. Terrible blunder, for which shc
| had only herself to thank. Robber.
Of her neighbor's house-the dishones
''borrowing" not Of those III gotten good
E only, but Of her neighbol's name-haC
: brought her, by what we call fatality, tt
this strait. Fatality is but another mans
for Providence.
The soldiers waited for lull in th,
5 shrieks, and then put once more th'
$ question
$ . You tell now. Where is your hus
a band No? Den you git ten lasl
e more. Always ten lash till you tell. =
e 4 storm Of incoherent denial, angr,
threats, sobs and screams, was the re
t ponse. One Of the soldiers drew hel
e skirts over her again, and gave anothe
pull at the cords that held up he
r thumbs, while the other stood off anC
p measured out his whin Just then tbt