The companies composing the First Regiment, took their departure from Camp Weld on Saturday last, about 3 o'clock, and marched up the Platte five miles, where they bivouacked for the night. Some stragglers were left behind--most of them considerably intoxicated--and during the evening and first part of the night, there was a good deal of excitement in town, occasioned by them. Two or three were arrested and locked up in the calaboose to get sober. One made an attack upon Sheriff Howe, and came near running him through with a bayonet. A squad also made a threatening demonstration against Quartermaster Moer, but fortunately no one was hurt.
    In the evening a strong citizens patrol was organized, which patroled the streets during the night, but no outbreak occurred. Late in the evening a patrol arrived from the camp to pick up stragglers, and yesterday morning they had nearly all disappeared from the streets.
    Camp was broken up yesterday about one o'clock P. M., and the command moved up the Colorado City road, probably making their camp at Dry Creek or at the spring near the summit of the divide this side of Plum Creek. To-day the regiment will move to a point on Plum Creek near Oaks' mill, where it will encamp until the last of the baggage train overtakes it--probably some time on Wednesday.
    Capt. Ziegelmuller's company of Home Guards marched in and took charge of the barracks at Camp Weld as the Regiment marched out, and yesterday Capt. Iddings' Home Guards, Capt. Backus' Cavalry, and Capt. Saxton's Cavalry, all took quarters at the Camp. The latter company is from Golden City, the others have been quartered in this city during the winter. The force now garrisoning the Camp, is four full companies.
    We understand that a number of deserters who left the different companies some time ago--four from Company A, alone--returned to their companies before the march. This shows that what the men wanted was action, not idleness.--Daily of Monday, 24th.

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    We are glad to learn that Captain Downing of Co. D, was released from arrest on Saturday last, before the regiment set out upon its march. It will be remembered that he was placed under arrest upon the charge of writing the article signed "Union," which we published over two weeks ago. No proof could ever be found that he wrote it, while on the other hand, a responsible gentleman of this city, avowed its authorship. It was called treasonable, but by a very great stretch of imagination. After his remaining under arrest for two weeks, he was voluntarily and unexpectedly released. When it was announced, we understand that a hearty cheer went up from the entire regiment, upon the parade ground.
    This is but justice, and though tardy, it gives us pleasure now to record it. Capt. Downing is too much a patriot to be persecuted in the way he has been. Hurrah for Capt. Downing and his "bully" Company D.

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    Mr. Editor:--It's a long while since I troubled you with a scrawl, but the momentousness of the present occasion, and the stupendousness of the circumstance about which I propose to relate, are sufficient excuse for any intrusion at this time. I got safely through my career as member of the City Council of the People's Government of Denver, upon the actions of which, I frequently enlightened your readers, but somehow, my official course, or my vote on the "three card monte" ordinance, or the "strap game," or something of that sort, or something else, seems to have made me "kinder" unpopular with the people, and though I have since run for office at every election under the new territorial organization, I never can get quite as many votes as some other darned fool who runs against me. I think the "pepes" have "soured" on me. But, suffice it to say, for the gratification of my numerous admirers, in the language of the immortal Webster, "I still live," and the magnificent city of Denver is yet my abiding place and my home. What is my present occupation, is nobody to nothing, or nothing to nobody, just as you please; but I will assure you I ain't a contractor, nor buying Gilpin drafts, nor in any other dishonorable calling. But I am progressing to my story very slowly, and without any more preliminary, I'll out with it at once.
    The Herald office has been mobbed--stormed--bouldered--rocked--brick-batted--the doors caved in, and windows smashed. Your correspondent was an unwilling eye witness to the whole transaction, because he couldn't get away from his boarding house chamber--third story, back--reached by a ladder, which somebody pulled down after them--hence I couldn't leave, and in consequence, am a very good witness and tell of that which I know about.
    The army, column or brigade, which made the descent upon the Herald office was not General Lane's or General McClellan's. It was a Union army though, I know, from a remark the leader made in my hearing. It was something like this, "Come out of that you old Secessionist, Tom Gibson, or we'll confiscate your d----d rebel office." But the "old Secessionist" "nary" come, and the command was given, "come on boys--forward," and they came. From the best of my observation, the attacking force consisted mainly of six men. The advance was mainly by flank movements, which were executed with the utmost irregularity and valor. At the first fire of rocks, the enemy's works were evacuated, the editor and commander in chief gallantly leading his retreating forces, like Price at Boonville. Owing to unforseen obstacles, or superior fleetness of foot, he distanced his command, and by the time they were drawn up in proper retreating order, he, with a solitary aid, had disappeared from sight--where, they knew not, but from my airy position, I could see his flag of truce whisk around the corner, near Van's Correll, and then emerge into the moonlight, gallantly making his way across the treacherous sands of Cherry Creek. Twice he fell and his nasal appendage plowed sand at a fearful rate; each time his faithful "aid" urged him onward, saying, "here they come; git up and run for God's sake; if they catch you, they'll kill you;" and he did "git up and run," for Marshal French's Hotel, where he sought an entrance, without password or countersign. He was hailed by the sentry with the usual challenge of "who comes there," but he didn't halt until a bayonet flashed before his eyes, when with his knees smiting together, he ejaculated, "I'm Jibson, I'm Jibson, and I want in the jail." The sentry replied, "I don't care who the h--l you are; you won't get in just yet." Hope died in his heart, the yells of that pursuing army rung in his ears, briney drop chased briney drop down his cheeks and fell pattering upon the pave, in icy crystals. Suddenly hope beamed once more in his wasted face, a thought had struck him--struck him hard--he started with the speed of the wind, or lightning set free, exclaiming, "The Governor," "the Governor," and in less time than it takes to tell it, he had flown to the Governor's room in the Broadwell House and there taken refuge. Such time was never made in Pike's Peak--Kendrick was nowhere--Adams, a myth in comparison.
    Having narrated how the commander braved the bloody contest, I must return to the beleaguered fortress. Scarce had his flag of truce (he rose hastily and didn't dress) flickered around the corner, when the entire garrison--numbering something more than double the assailants--made their exit through the back doors and windows; but without a leader. The force was soon scattered; one column fleeing across the glittering sands of Cherry Creek and another following up the valley of that stream. In their hasty flight, most of their arms were thrown away, but a few--eight or ten--gallantly retained them. One--I think he was an officer--fled with a dragoon revolver in one hand, and his bed in the other. He literally took up his bed and--run. His journey was protracted to such a distance, that he did not return for his rations next morning. In leaping some of the "outer works," board fences, &c., there were some remarkable feats of agility displayed, fairly outdoing the Hanlons, "or any other man."
    The attacking army quietly beat down the doors, secured a few trophies, and left, after first distributing some of the laws of Colorado--free gratis for nothing.
    The "official" report of the killed, wounded and missing has not yet been published. Report says that there were none killed; that the "Jew near" was wounded and his Washington letters stopped. Whether any of the forces are still missing, I can't say. If any were killed or wounded on the Union side, they were carried away.
    Since that memorable night, it is only necessary to say "soldiers" to the valiant chieftain of that glorious and masterly retreat, and you will immediately see him "git up and git."
                                                                   Yours Phunnily,
                                                                D. Phool, Ex. M. C. C. P. G. D.
    Denver, Feb. 20, 1862.

Source:

Unknown, "Military," Weekly Rocky Mountain News, Denver, Colorado Territory, Saturday, 1 March, 1862, page 1.