AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF JOHN F. LACEY 397 



City. My fate was unknown for several weeks, but my 

 name was published under the word "missing." 



One of my comrades went home on furlough about that 

 time and cheered up my sister at Hannibal and the folks 

 at home with the statement that the heads of several of 

 the dead were eaten off by the hogs and he thought, 

 though he was not quite sure, that my body was one of 

 those mutilated. It afterwards turned out that this im- 

 aginative comrade was at Brookfield during the fight. My 

 gun, which fell into the enemy's hands, had my name on 

 the strap, and it was a satisfaction to me to know that it 

 was afterwards recaptured on the other side of the Mis- 

 sissippi by the Fifth Iowa at Iuka. 



Next day we marched towards Lexington. My fever 

 raged all day, but I kept going, and every few hundred 

 yards we would cross a beautiful stream of spring water. 

 I drank all I thought I wanted and when I got into our 

 first camp the fever had ceased. 



I shall always remember a jolly fellow named Ben 

 Roar, from Quindaro. His father was a hot secessionist 

 and had ordered Ben "to go and fight the black aboli- 

 tionists." Ben came down to where the prisoners were 

 (there were eight of us) and sang songs for our amuse- 

 ment. We were in charge of Colonel Green's regiment, 

 and Mr. Holloway, one of my guards, afterwards recalled 

 these incidents when he was doorkeeper of the committee 

 on agriculture of the Fifty-third Congress. 



On the next day, as we approached Lexington, General 

 Price rode out to meet us and was received with immense 

 enthusiasm. 



"We went into camp at Lexington in a deep ravine near 

 where General Mulligan was besieged, and the shot and 

 shell from Mulligan's men passed over our heads and 

 struck the sides of the hill beyond us. 



An old sergeant-major was very anxious to put the 



