My Genealogy Hound

JOHN HUDSON, a well-to-do farmer of Gallatin County, Ky., was born in England November 25, 1826. His father, William Hudson, also a native of England, was a farmer and miner by occupation; he settled in Wythe County, Va., in 1829, and engaged in the mining of lead; he moved to Washing ton County, Va., but subsequently returned to Wythe County, where he died. He married Elizabeth Iverson, a native of England, who bore him seven children, the subject of this sketch being the fourth child. John Hudson was educated in Washington County, Va., has always followed farming, and now owns 139 acres of land, all well cultivated, in Gallatin County, in which county he settled in May, 1846. In August, 1862, he enlisted, as a private in the Confederate Army, Fifth Kentucky Cavalry, Capt. Henry Jones, under command of Col. D. Howard Smith. He took part in the battle of Stone River, was taken prisoner at Big Sandy, and imprisoned eight months at several places. Mr. Hudson gives this account of his capture: “After the battle of Stone River it was decided to send some one through the lines with letters to the families of the soldiers, and get others in return. It being very risky, I was the only one who would undertake it, as there were some two hundred miles to be traveled on foot through the mountains. Letters came to me thick and fast until I had sixty-six, and hurried off to keep from being over loaded, as my plan was to hollow out a large walking cane and fill it up with letters. I could only get twenty-five in it, so I carried the others on my person until I came near the lines on the waters of the Big Sandy, where I bought a canoe and borrowed a large saw and auger. I got a thick piece of slab for a seat board, and sawed it about two inches too long for the width of the canoe. I then bored two holes lengthwise in the board, and put the remaining letters in, plugging up the holes with the same timber, then sawed off the board the right width, hiding all traces of the plugs. I then set sail down the Big Sandy, and in some two hours came upon about thirty Confederate soldiers, who halted me to know where I was going. I told them through the lines, and they bid me come ashore as they were ordered not to let any one pass through the lines. I obeyed, taking my cane with me; they asked my business. I told them, and they demanded to see the letters, and I told them to find them. They searched my person and canoe, and swore that I lied. I then removed the plug from the lower end of my cane, and took out one roll of letters, giving them the secret of the letters in the seat-board and showing them my pass from my general. They shook hands, wishing me good luck, and I set out again. That evening I passed Piketon, and the next day Prestonburg. I was aiming to get to Mike Musick’s, knowing that he was in the Federal Army, but I was well acquainted with his family, who lived five miles below Prestonburg. Encountering five men on the shore with guns, I was puzzled to know which side they belonged to, as they were not uniformed. As I got opposite them they halted me, and at the same time I inquired of them, as though I did not hear them, if they could direct me to Mike Musick’s. One or two of them directed me, and one said if I was going to Mike Musick’s I was all right, so I knew then that I was through the line, and destroyed my Southern pass. The next evening I came near Louisa, where there were three regiments encamped, and passed several blue coats, but received no halt. I tied the canoe, took the seat and paddles and hid them, and went one mile back, where I passed the night. As the soldiers took my canoe that night, I had to change my program, and make the remainder of my way to the Ohio River on foot, and, finding the Big Sandy blockaded, I changed my route to Little Sandy, twenty miles below, so I had to give up the seat board arrangement. The first night I stayed with a home guard. He questioned me very closely, but everything passed off well. The next night I was aiming to reach an acquaintance, but night overtook me in the mountain, and I was compelled to stay with a Yankee soldier. He made a pallet on the floor for himself and me, and put his blue overcoat under our heads for a pillow, and we bunked together. He was home on furlough, and he treated me the best he was able to, his wife being sick in bed. I then made my way to Gallatin County, and delivered my letters to each person as directed, with much risk of being captured, and collected ninety-six return letters. I started on my return trip March 10, 1863, returning by the way I had come. On the third day I encountered a squad of thirty soldiers, but they did not halt me, and the next day I met seven others, passing them without trouble. That night I stayed at the same place where my canoe had been captured, and the following day I called at a house to make inquiry about the road, and there was a Yankee lying on the bed asleep. I did not take the trouble to wake him. In about two hours I met with a Southern soldier, the first that I had seen since passing through the lines. We looked up the road, and there came a Federal soldier and his guide, bearing dispatches to Louisa. The rebel leveled his gun, and bade him hold up his hands, which he very promptly did, and after searching him, the rebel mounted his horse and rode on, the Federal pursuing his course on foot. I was then within twelve miles of Piketon, a southern camp, but I learned that the Federals had made a raid and captured it; so I changed my route, expecting to go around the place, thinking that the Federals would take the main road down the river to Louisa, their headquarters, but they were afraid of coming in contact with Jack Mays’ men, so they went around, coming in ahead of me and capturing me; the main command had passed before I struck their road, and it was the rear guard which I ran against, seven in number; they asked me if I was armed, I told them no; I did not intend to give up my arms until I was rid of my letters. They halted to get water at a well, and I made an excuse to go behind a corn crib, where I relieved myself of the letters, also made way with my arms, ammunition and everything likely to convict me, thinking that they would release me at headquarters, but it was no go.” Mr. Hudson was paroled at Camp Chase in October, 1863, after which he lived in Putman County, Ind., remaining there four years, and residing five miles south of Greencastle; he returned to Gallatin County in 1868, where in 1879 he was elected county assessor and re-elected in 1883, serving eight years in that capacity. Mr. Hudson is a Democrat, and a member of the Masonic fraternity.