“Halt! Who comes there?” said the Register man.

        “Israel Cross,” came from a farmer in Quaker Bottom.

        “Advance, Mr. Cross, and give me your ‘narrow escape’,” demanded the R. m.

        “Oh, is that what you want?” said Mr. C.; “I couldn’t think who you were or what you wanted.”

        “I am invested with powers extra-ordinary and plenipotentiary to hunt up all the ‘narrow escapes’,” said the R. m.

        “It won’t hurt, will it?” asked Mr. C.

        “Oh, no. Stop your plow a moment to let your horses rest and tell me that ‘narrow escape’ of yours, and I will be responsible for all damages.”

        “All right. I was a member of 6th O. Cavalry; Col. Steadman. On May 5,’64, we started on a raid against Richmond; had several skirmishes with the rebels, and on the 9th, they charged us on the rear, attacking pack-train, who were badly scared and scattered everywhere. I was on a good horse, and, taking a railing off the fence, jumped over into a large open field, where I stood facing the rebels who charged clear passed me, but did not see me, as I suppose. They took several boys prisoners and wounded three or four. They then fell back. I saw my company on a rise, but I stayed in the field under a cedar tree. Col. S. came up to where I was and said: “If I had my regiment here I would cut ------- out of them.’ The rebs saw him and he lit out on the corduroy road, with hat off, and the rebs after him pell-mell. I rode along the fence and emptied my carbine at them, but they paid no attention to me, as they wanted the Colonel. They were all drunk. I saw my company was leaving me and that the rebs would cut me off. In trying to get out of the field, I came across one of our boys tangled in the grapevine. I got down and cut him loose. Just then a Penn. Lieutenant came by and ordered me into line, but I refused, because I knew I would not be taken care of if I should get hurt. He drew his sabre and tried to make me, but I had a fresh load in my carbine, which I presented. He didn’t insist any further. Shortly after, I found my regiment. As the rebs were charging us, we were ordered to wheel off to the right and left gradually. As I was going to the right I saw a rebel Colonel, with his coat all buttoned up--a very tempting target. I opened on him, and just then a bullet struck me at the butt of the left ear. Instantly all was dark.

        “From now on I tell you what my comrades told me afterward: Frank Pritchard saw me fall from my horse and strike the ground with my head between my legs. He dismounted and straightened me. Several charges were made passed my by both our own troops and the rebs, but as they supposed me dead they paid no attention to me. As I had told our boys when we started on the raid that I had about $350 and some notes on the boys in a belt, Frank Prichard was crawling along through the grass on his hands and knees to get the money to send to my brother. As he came near me, he saw that I had my right hand under my head and was clutching the grass with my left. He was so overjoyed to find me alive (the bullet had entered behind my left ear and came out behind my right) that he called to some more of the boys to help him carry me out. As my horse was gone, Tom Hamilton brought his and I was put on that and taken to the hospital at White House Landing, where I stayed till I was well enough for duty.”

        “A very narrow escape, Mr. Cross.”

        “Can’t you stay for dinner?”

        “No, thanks; I must hunt up Ham Turley. Good bye.”

Ironton Register, June 30, 1887, Thursday