CHAPTER XIV 

 HENRY c. M'DOWELL AND ASHLAND 



DURING the latter half of the Civil War, I was in 

 Louisville, and, under direction of George D. Pren- 

 tice, I made almost daily the rounds of military pris- 

 ons in which women, as well as men, were confined, 

 and heard many a story of distress. At the Gait 

 House I interviewed officers high in command, on 

 the way to or from the front, and, with dispatches 

 from the front always on my desk, I was in close 

 touch with the Army and was able to write, when 

 occasion demanded, intelligently of the situation. 

 Louisville was something of a cauldron in those days, 

 and two of my closest friends were Lieutenant Col- 

 onel J. Rowan Boone, a descendant of Daniel Boone, 

 and Major Henry C. McDowell, whose wife was 

 a granddaughter of Henry Clay. Colonel Boone 

 did not long survive the war, but Major McDowell, 

 after laying aside the sword, engaged in the breed- 

 ing of horses, and our relations were of the closest 

 kind. I saw him tested in many ways, and he was 

 always true to the qualities which add to the stature 

 of manhood. His first breeding venture was Wood- 

 lake, a beautiful farm of 585 acres, seven miles from 

 Frankfort, abundantly supplied with water and with 

 pastures shaded by ash, walnut, sugar, oak, and burr 



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