On the morning of the first of September, the army advanced towards Lexington. A regiment of the enemy was drawn up on the high bluffs across the Kentucky river, apparently to dispute its passage. The position was very strong, and had it been defended with any obstinacy, would have been found difficult to force. But the Federals ran away at the first fire. Beyond the river a strong calvary force appeared in our front, watching us closely, but keeping carefully out of range.
The troops seemed now to feel fully the effects of their arduous labors for the past fortnight, and straggled badly. Four miles beyond the river, though but little past noon, it was found necessary to halt the army on account of its exhausted condition. The enemy retreated before us only fast enough to keep out of the way. It was thought that they had been reinforced, but to what extent it was found impossible to ascertain, on account of the cavalry which covered their rear.
Near where we halted General Smith was heartily welcomed by an old gentleman, Mr. Todhunter, a wealthy farmer and an ardent sympathiser with the Confederate cause. His joy at seeing us was extreme, and he insisted that General Smith should accept the hospitalities of his house, an old brick mansion near by, and establish his headquarters there. Seeing that a refusal would mortify our old friend, General Smith, contrary to his usual custom, accepted the invitation. While seated at dinner, one of Mr. Todhunter's sons, deaf and dumb, but a bitter hater of Yankee rule, entered the room in an excited manner, and pointed at our dark-blue pants — treasurers obtained from the suttlers' stores captured at Loudon — and then out into the fields, seemed to intimate, by his violent gestures and vehement guttural utterances, that
