As an instance of the peculiar manner in which some of the fugitive slaves address our sympathies, I may mention the case of Lanzy, one of my servants.  He came to my tent the morning after I arrived here, ragged, hungry, foot-sore, and weary.  Upon inquiry, I have found his story to be true.  He is nearly white, and is the son of his master, whose residence is a few miles west of here, but who is now a captain under Price,—­a fact which does not predispose me to the rendition of Lanzy, should he be pursued.  He is married, after the fashion in which slaves are usually married, and has two children.  But his wife and of course her children belong to a widow lady, whose estate adjoins his master’s farm, and several months ago, by reason of the unsettled condition of the country, Lanzy’s wife and little children were sold and taken down to the Red River.  Fearing the approach of the Federal forces, last week the Rebel captain sent instructions to have Lanzy and his other slaves removed into Arkansas.  This purpose was discovered, and Lanzy and a very old negro, whom he calls uncle, fled at night.  For several days they wandered through the forests, and at last succeeded in reaching Springfield.  How can a man establish a stronger claim to the sympathy and protection of a stranger than that which tyranny, misfortune, and misery have given to this poor negro upon me?  Bereft of wife and children, whose love was the sunshine of his dark and dreary life, threatened with instant exile from which there was no hope of escape,—­what was there of which imagination can conceive that could increase the load of evil which pressed upon this unhappy man?  Is it strange that he fled from his hard fate, as the hare flies from the hounds?

His case is by no means extraordinary.  Go to any one of the dusky figures loitering around yonder fire, and you will hear a moving story of oppression and sorrow.  Every slave who runs breathless into our lines and claims the soldier’s protection, not only appeals to him as a soldier struggling with a deadly foe, but addresses every generous instinct of his manhood.  Mighty forces born of man’s sympathy for man are at work in this war, and will continue their work, whether we oppose or yield to them.

Yesterday fifty-three Delaware Indians came from Kansas to serve under the General.  Years ago he made friends of the Delawares, when travelling through their country upon his first journey of exploration; and hearing that he was on the war-path, the tribe have sent their best young warriors to join him.  They are descendants of the famous tribe which once dwelt on the Delaware River, and belonged to the confederacy of the Six Nations, for more than two centuries the most powerful Indian community in America.  Their ancient prowess remains.  The Delawares are feared all over the Plains, and their war-parties have often penetrated beyond the Rocky Mountains, carrying terror through all the Indian tribes.  These men are