I. 
 
 " 
 
 Richard Barksdale Harwell 
 

1864. 
 
A Private Chapter of the War. 
 
 BY 
 
 GEO. W. BAILEY, 
 
 Late First Lieut, bth Mo. Infty., and A.D.C. zd Div. Staff, ijth Army Corps 
 
 ST. LOUIS: 
 
 G, I. JONES AND COMPANY. 
 1880, 
 
Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1880, by 
 
 GEORGE W. BAILEY, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 
 
BIS 
 
 DEDICATORY. 
 
 TO 
 MRS. CARRIE E. HAMBRICK, 
 
 Of Atlanta, Ga., whose nobility of soul manifested itself in rising above 
 surrounding prejudices and circumstances, proving superior to them, by 
 extending welcome and bestowing aid and comfort upon a helpless 
 stranger whom the misfortunes of war brought to her door, and whose 
 life was preserved by her motherly cai'e, sympathy, and encouragement, 
 this volume is respectfully dedicated by 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
INTEODUCTOEY. 
 
 This volume is not a complete history of military experiences of 
 the writer; if so, it would necessarily embrace a period of time 
 extending between September, 1861, and April, 1865. It would 
 include enlistment and fifteen months' service as a private soldier in 
 the Sixth Infant^, Connecticut Volunteers, Army of the Potomac, 
 at Washington; the ocean trip from Fortress Monroe to Port 
 Royal, South Carolina, and the picturesque bombardment and 
 reduction, at the latter place, of Forts Walker and Beauregard, 
 November 7, 1861, and the first lodgment of Union forces on 
 South Carolina soil ; the campaign and expeditions about Hilton 
 Head and Beaufort, South Carolina, down to February, 1863 ; 
 the promotion and transfer to the Sixth Infantry, Missouri Volun- 
 teers, Army of the Tennessee ; the entire campaign of Vicksburg, 
 with its bloody charges ; the Chattanooga campaign, and bloody 
 Mission Ridge; the march to the relief of Gen. Burnside at 
 Knoxville; the Atlanta campaign, with its principal battles and 
 flank movements, in all of which the writer participated either as a 
 private or as an officer with his company, or as A. D. C., Second 
 Division Staff of the Fifteenth Army Corps, and during which he 
 was twice wounded. To embrace these experiences, however inter- 
 esting, would be foreign to the object of this volume, which is to 
 select from the whole military history a " private chapter," and pre- 
 sent it as worthy of being recorded as uncommon experiences. It 
 presents a limited inside view of a portion of the Confederacy 
 
 00 
 
Vi INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 within its military lines, as secretly observed by a "stray" from 
 the invading army in blue, whose experiences disclose the real 
 political sentiments of fair samples of different classes who resided 
 within the Confederacy during the war, experiences, not of a 
 spy, not of a scout, but of a harmless escaped prisoner of war, 
 a refugee ; free, yet practically imprisoned ; escaped, yet prac- 
 tically confined within broader limits only ; guilty of no offence 
 but that of performance of duty in resorting to all proper means 
 and expedients, and promptly taking advantage of all circumstances 
 and occasions, in determined and persistent efforts to regain the 
 Federal lines. 
 
 The scene of "operations" lies within a radius of fifty miles 
 south and east of Atlanta, Georgia. The narrative embraces : A 
 description of the battle of Atlanta, July 22, 1864, where Gen. 
 McPherson fell and the writer was captured Four days only of 
 captivity Novel means of escape by burial, to avoid Andersonville 
 prison-pen Two and a half months secreted in the woods and 
 forests of Georgia Varied experiences among rich and poor, 
 whites and blacks Frequent narrow escapes from recapture by 
 Confederate cavalry Desperate, unsuccessful efforts to reach the 
 Federal lines Conflicting and confusing reports of Gen. Sherman's 
 defeat and retreat from Atlanta Excitement caused by the 
 announcement, "Atlanta's taken!" The final desperate attempt 
 of the writer, armed, to reach the Federal lines Successful and 
 perilous approach to a point six miles east of Atlanta, and one mile 
 from Federal pickets Singular recapture by two guerrillas, one 
 in butternut, the other a decoy in blue, whose names are given, and 
 whose "business" it was to "muster out" unarmed Federal prison- 
 ers The promise to treat the captive as a "prisoner of war" 
 Conducting the writer into thick woods under a false pretence, 
 and there announcing to him, " This is as good a place to die as any 
 man could wish" The "two minutes" accorded for prayer 
 
INTRODUCTORY. Vii 
 
 Frivolous pretexts for the attempted murder The interesting 
 conversation that followed the announcement The ruse The 
 sudden flight for life The shooting four times at the captive, 
 one shot taking effect with almost fatal result The marvellous 
 escape A ghastly wound The kind care and sympathy of 
 white ladies, who are introduced to the reader Information 
 secretly conveyed to the Federal lines by night Prompt response 
 of "Grarrard's New York cavalry," U. S. V., one hundred and fifty 
 strong, with ambulance and surgeon The wounded and helpless 
 .writer conveyed to the Federal lines at Atlanta The wound pro- 
 nounced "mortal" Slow and tedious recovery Governmental 
 recognition of duty performed Revisitation, in 1870, of the scenes 
 and friends of 1864, together with portraits of the principal persons 
 referred to in this "chapter." 
 
 The writer is aware that many of the incidents related may not 
 seem plausible, and will tend to create incredulity, especially among 
 those who do not wish, to believe. In recognition of this tendency, 
 the names and residences of other living witnesses are given. 
 
 The writer is in possession of additional evidences not available 
 for the press, bullet-scarred body, bullet-torn coat, stiffened 
 with his blood, maps, compass, cartridges, and numerous other 
 relics of his experience, which are subject to the inspection of 
 the incredulous or curious. 
 
 Let the reader consider for a moment the probable percentage of 
 those who were conducted to secluded places for the purpose of 
 being "mustered out" in cold blood, for the "crime" of wearing 
 the Federal uniform, who escaped to relate the unenviable expe- 
 rience. Such contemplation will doubtless lead most readers to 
 agree that it devolves upon the writer, as a solemn duty, to present 
 this volume to the public, comprising, as he does, the small per- 
 centage of one among HOW MANY! 
 
Vili INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 How many books will be written, how many confessions made, 
 by those who participated on the safe side of such experiences? 
 
 How man}^ are there, who were not on the preferred side of 
 similar experiences, and who would be willing witnesses thereof, 
 who were not stricken dumb at the time, and ever after remained 
 silent ? 
 
 Surely, one of so rare experience should not hesitate to move 
 tongue and pen, as constituting the surviving percentage among an 
 unknown number of victims, and present not only facts, but names 
 and portraits of those connected therewith, as is done in this volume. 
 In the relation of the bloody work of outlaws, no reflections are 
 intended upon soldiers who wore the gray uniform in honorable war- 
 fare. Infamous conduct, unmasking fiends, will ever meet the con- 
 demnation of all civilized persons, and especially of all soldiers, 
 irrespective of the color of the uniforms disgraced by assassins. 
 
 In explanation of the delay in publication, it is sufficient to state 
 that, for the reasons herein indicated, earlier publication was con- 
 sidered detrimental to the interests of some of the principal " wit- 
 nesses" residing in Georgia. 
 
 GEO. W. BAILEY. 
 
 ST. Louis, May, 1880. 
 
A PRIVATE CHAPTER OF THE WAR. 
 
 July 22, 1864; before Atlanta, Ga. Early this morn- 
 ing, our pickets reported that the enemy in our front 
 (Army of the Tennessee) had retired from the in- 
 trenched position occupied yesterday. Our skirmishers 
 were pushed forward into the abandoned Confederate 
 works. This had been the eastern line of defence, and 
 is located about three miles east of Atlanta, extending 
 across the railroad which runs eastward. The writer 
 was aide-de-camp on the staff of Maj. Gen. Morgan L. 
 Smith, and at th;s time ranking as first lieutenant. Gen. 
 Smith then commanded the Second Division of the Fif- 
 teenth Army Corps. This corps, together with the 
 Seventeenth, comprising the Army of the Tennessee, 
 promptly moved up and occupied the abandoned works 
 of the Confederates, and soon reversed them, making 
 them available for means of defence against Confed- 
 erate advances. The day advanced, and so did the 
 enemy ! Our lines were being extended on the extreme 
 left ; and the Seventeenth Corps had hardly arrived at 
 
2 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 its place in the extension, when away southward, and 
 rather to the rear of the line of the Fifteenth Corps, be- 
 gan suspicious sounds of desultory skirmishing. The 
 sounds grew heavier and heavier, until it was apparent 
 that our lines were either seriously opposed or else being 
 attacked. The sputtering of skirmish-rifles now became 
 a continuous rattle of musketry. Huge volumes of pow- 
 der-smoke arose above the tree-tops, and the thunder of 
 artillery was added to the conflict. Then we readily 
 understood what we might soon expect in our front. 
 " We are going to have a fight here," said Gen. Smith, 
 as he sat on his horse in rear of our lines, surrounded 
 by his staff. ' ' They are raising the devil on our left, 
 and we'll catch it here soon!" Already the Confed- 
 erate shells burst in uncomfortable proximity over our 
 heads, causing our horses to prance to such an extent 
 that they were sent to the rear. A shell burst less than 
 fifteen feet overhead. "Spherical case," said the Gen- 
 eral, as the bullet missiles hissed and whistled among 
 the foliage. "Oh me! oh me!" cried one of our boys, 
 as he held one arm with the other and limped toward 
 the rear. "Dry up! dry up!" ordered the General. 
 " You're not hurt much, or you couldn't bellow like that." 
 The roar of the conflict seems to increase and approach. 
 An ambulance passes. An orderly says, " Gen. Mc- 
 Pherson's killed ! He's in that ambulance." Every face 
 was sad ; but no time now for inquiries. Every thing is 
 
OF THE WAR. 3 
 
 excitement, and every eye is strained toward the woods 
 skirting our front. An orderly sent to order in our out- 
 posts returned wounded. The others were absent on 
 duty. "Bailey," said the General to the writer, " would 
 you mind ordering in those fellows?*' A horse, a 
 hasty mounting, a dash over the works, a dash over 
 the intervening space, and the order was delivered. 
 The pickets of the outpost were already engaged with the 
 advancing Confederate skirmish-line, and little leaden 
 messengers hissed and whizzed uncomfortably close, cut- 
 ting through the air and foliage. A recall of pickets, an 
 excited and confused "falling in," and a hasty repair- 
 ing to our lines, closely followed by the advancing Con- 
 federates. Other pickets are coming in rapidly, and the 
 general report is, "They are coming on us heavy!" 
 While some are comparatively cool, others wear panic- 
 stricken countenances, point wildly toward the woods, 
 and huskily exclaim, "Here they come, boys, four and 
 five lines deep! " "They are right on us!" and hastily 
 climb over the works, and seek shelter behind them. Now 
 there follows a death-like stillness. The sounds of battle 
 have suddenly ceased, and there is a calm before the com- 
 ing tempest. Ominous silence ! Every rifle is cocked, 
 every eye gazing across the space intervening between us 
 and the timber. No words spoken, save the encouraging 
 sentences of our officers. "Bailey," said the General to 
 the writer, " please take a position where you can see if 
 
A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 they are massed and where they are massed, and report 
 to me, if you can find out." The writer ran to a slight 
 elevation immediately in rear of our works, where he could 
 obtain a view of the whole front, and there stood with 
 eyes riveted on the timber some three hundred yards in 
 front. What suspense ! What silent excitement ! Here 
 and there among the brave boys in the works were faces 
 pale as death. They could not have been more ghastly 
 had they been reflections of the countenance of the writer. 
 At last there is observable a great commotion in the dis- 
 tant foliage, and emerging from it, three lines deep, in 
 extraordinary order, come the advancing enemy. How 
 beautiful ! How regular ! A hasty dressing of the lines 
 without halting, a lowering of bayonets, a charge, and 
 cheers that made the welkin ring! There was a con- 
 flict between fear and admiration. Their prowess is un- 
 questioned, but their glory is short! Our lines open! 
 Fire leaps from the crest of our works ; the deadly roll 
 of musketry is heard continuously amidst the crashes 
 of double-shotted cannon. Angry-hissing rifle-balls rival 
 grape and canister in spreading dismay and death among 
 our gallant enemies. The continuous roar of the battle 
 drowns all other sounds, and mother earth trembles as if 
 convulsed with an earthquake. Through the smoke of 
 toattle, the writer could discern confusion and disorder 
 among the Confederates, while the ground was thickly 
 .strewn with dead and wounded. A slight recoil, a hasty 
 
OF THE WAR. 5 
 
 reformation of two lines in one, hearty cheers, another 
 charge, another bloody repulse ! The sullen foe fall 
 back to the timber in hopeless confusion. Confederate 
 batteries brought forward suddenly open from the edge 
 of the timber, and the air seems thickened with explod- 
 ing shells and grape shot. Now returning to the timber's 
 edge, reinforced, the repulsed infantry open a heavy 
 musketry-fire, and the deadly " minies " cut through 
 the smoky scene by thousands. Shells tear off the limbs 
 of trees, and scream fearfully through the air ; while 
 solid shot tear up the earth, sending great clouds of dust 
 skyward. The dense smoke furnishes an excellent screen, 
 which our repulsed enemies are not slow to take advan- 
 tage of. Under its cover there is a hasty formation 
 of the remnants of the wreck, and preparation made for 
 another assault. A column of Confederates pressed 
 through our lines, through an unguarded cut in the rail- 
 road, and opened an inexplicable fire on our bo}'S from 
 the rear. No one seemed to understand the meaning of 
 this new and decidedly disagreeable feature ; nor could 
 it be expected that the best troops would withstand such 
 treatment. Bullets madly hissing from the front, bul- 
 lets spitefully whizzing from the rear ; obscuring smoke 
 of battle ; cheers of reformed and charging lines ; 
 "confusion worse confounded." But the officers still 
 encourage: "Once more, boys!" "Give it to 'em 
 again ! " " Aim low, boys ! ' ' There is a desultory rat- 
 
6 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 tie of musketry-fire from our works, directed at the un- 
 seen lines through the smoke. But the living press the 
 living over the dead and dying, and the scattered sur- 
 vivors of the charge seem compelled to seek protection 
 under our works, hugging mother earth for dear life. 
 The aggravating fire from the rear produces its result. 
 Our lines grow thinner and thinner. Now a Confeder- 
 ate battle-flag is waved over our works, within five feet 
 of the writer. "What! and the old Army of the Ten- 
 nessee? " Such a sight was never witnessed before, and 
 it was never witnessed again. The writer saw the first 
 Confederate that entered our works. He came in on 
 the wagon-road, which was undefended. Then came an- 
 other ; then three, six, twenty ; a host rapidly followed, 
 and alas ! our works were carried. The victors rapidly 
 load, and fire indiscriminately through the smoke at our 
 retiring blue-coats ; but in the confusion and smoke it 
 is difficult to distinguish friend from foe. Capt. Mad- 
 dox, also of our division staff, had remained during the 
 battle near to the writer, and we frequently conversed 
 during its progress. Escape and safet}^ were now only to 
 be considered. We attempted to glide through the smoke 
 to the rear. Maddox was almost immediately intercepted, 
 while the writer was more fortunate in executing a small 
 flank-movement, and reaching a point well in the rear, 
 where he had tied his horse ; was congratulating himself, 
 when advancing from the rear came the victorious Con- 
 
OF THE WAR. 7 
 
 federates, wild with delight and crazed with intoxicating 
 drink. The railroad cut! that's the explanation; awful 
 
 dilemma ! ' ' Halt ! halt ! you d d Yankee - ! ' ' 
 
 exclaimed a drunken Confederate, bringing his rifle down 
 and bunglingly endeavoring to take aim. "D n your 
 soul, I'll shoot you anyhow (hie). Haven't killed my 
 Yankee to-day! " The writer saw his opportunity, and 
 grasping the barrel of the weapon, raised it over his head 
 and held it there. In vain did the Confederate endeavor 
 to lower it and release it. He was a powerful fellow, and 
 for once, at least, the writer found an agreeable ally in 
 whiskey. "Let go of this sword!" said a voice 
 sharply, from behind. A Confederate officer grasped the 
 drawn blade, and wrenched it out of the writer's hand. 
 He seemed flushed only with excitement. "Captain," 
 said the writer, " this drunken man is trying to shoot me 
 after I've surrendered." "No, no," said the officer, 
 to my great relief. "Here, John" (calling a soldier), 
 " take this officer to the rear, and don't let him be harmed 
 nor robbed , hear ? ' ' John nodded assent. Now pours 
 through the opening swarms of Confederates, cheering, 
 howling, cursing, shooting at imaginary or at least un- 
 seen enemies through the smoke. During the confusion 
 an incident occurred worthy of mention. A large, burly 
 *' blue-coat," apparently a German, was persistently and 
 hotly pursued by a diminutive and highly decorated Con- 
 federate officer. He struck the retreating Federal over 
 
A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 the head again and again, occasionally examining his new, 
 glittering sword. He was evidently determined to color 
 his blade with Yankee blood. Was he endeavoring to 
 earn promotion? Did he desire honorable mention for 
 gallant conduct in the " face " of the enemy ? Or was he 
 meriting the coveted smiles of Atlanta's fair daughters? 
 Perhaps he had solemnly avowed to a fair bestower of the 
 untarnished weapon that its lustre should only be dimmed 
 by the gore of the enemy. The captive was not permit- 
 ted to witness the upshot of this incident, even had the 
 smoke permitted. "This way," said his guard, and we 
 passed on the road through our works toward Atlanta. 
 The cries and moans of the wounded arose through the 
 thick smoke. Some Federal dead lay stretched in and 
 near our works, but in front of them was an awful scene. 
 The ground for over one hundred yards was thickly strewn 
 with the rebel dead and wounded. Many cries arose for 
 "water; " some were struggling to extricate themselves 
 from tangled heaps of dead, and calling for aid ; some 
 were vainly striving to stop the flow of crimson tide 
 gushing from ghastly wounds ; many were fitfully gasping 
 their last breath. But the great majority were grim and 
 cold in the strong embrace of death, lying in almost 
 every conceivable position ; some were riddled with rifle- 
 balls ; some were torn with grape or canister shot, and at 
 not infrequent intervals the bodies were literally heaped 
 together. There were young and old countenances ; some 
 
OF THE WAR. 9 
 
 distorted, others calm. Stony eyes gazed meaninglessly 
 at us as we picked our way ; others stared wildly into 
 space. " My God! look at that sight*" said the guard. 
 "Brave fellows," said the writer. "Yes, and in the 
 right, too," fairly hissed the guard. The captive was 
 silent. "What?" said the guard, glaring angrily. "I 
 said nothing," replied the captive. "Well, don't you 
 half think so yourself?" inquired the guard. "This is 
 no time for discussion ; of course I can't deny what my 
 uniform expresses," pleaded the captive. "D n your 
 uniform," spitefully hissed the guard. What's that? 
 The screeching of a shell over our heads. Bang! and 
 the pieces of the exploded missile hum and whiz through 
 the air. Another, and another. Now they come in 
 pairs. Now the air is thick with them. Rifle-balls hiss 
 through the air thicker and thicker. Now there is a per- 
 fect roar of musketry and artillery. The sounds come 
 nearer and nearer, and the heavy smoke rises behind us 
 like an ominous storm-cloud. "They're coming back on 
 us ; we must get out of this," said the guard, as we hur- 
 ried through the timber. There was no rest that night 
 for the Army of the Tennessee, except upon the ground 
 whence it had been temporarily driven. There was a 
 rally, an immediate counter-assault ; cheers rent the air : 
 the struggle for the lost works was in progress. " Look, 
 look! " said the guard; and there came the frightened, 
 retreating Confederates, scattered in confusion, every 
 
10 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 man for himself, driven back in a wild, fleeing mob. On 
 came the blue lines of infantry, just visible through the 
 smoke. The few disposed to resist were speedily swept 
 away before that glorious tide. The stars and stripes 
 never before seemed so glorious as now they float, dimly 
 visible through the smoke of battle, all along the recap- 
 tured works. The captive almost forgot his captivity, 
 and exultingly exclaimed: "That's the old Army of the 
 Tennessee. I knew they'd never stay whipped long!" 
 Wild cheers arose from the works ; flags flitted fitfully 
 over the scene ; the roar of conflict ceased, and the bat- 
 tle of Atlanta was over. History records the result: 
 Total Union loss, 3,521 ; total Confederate loss, about 
 3,000 men, 5,000 stand of arms, eighteen stand of 
 colors, and a victory. 
 
 "What of success in skirmish or in fray, 
 If rout and ruin close the day?" 
 
 When nearing Atlanta, amidst utter confusion outside 
 of the main entrenchments, the captive ventured the 
 proposition, "I'll give you my watch and silver spurs 
 if you will march off with them, and forget me a few mo- 
 ments." The guard looked wistfully at the proffered 
 treasures, and then, casting a glance at the confused 
 masses of rebels retreating through the woods, said, 
 " You couldn't reach your lines if I did." "Well, I'll 
 take the chances, if you say so," said the captive. 
 "Well, you'd better come on," said the guard, rather 
 
OF THE WAR. 11 
 
 firmly ; and we emerged from timber into the clearing be- 
 fore the main entrenchments of Atlanta. There floated 
 the Confederate ensigns ; there frowned the great guns ; 
 and the entrenchments were crested with Confederate 
 gunners and infantry, all peering eagerly toward the 
 scene of the recent battle. Inside Atlanta, prisoners 
 from other parts of the line accumulate. All formed in 
 column, and the march through the city began. The 
 dust was fearful. One of our soldiers, shot through the 
 lower jaw, and speechless, made signs of distress to the 
 writer. " Major, one of our boys is so badly injured that 
 he can hardly march through this dust ; he cannot speak, 
 and would like to ride," said the writer, imploringly, 
 to the Confederate major in command. The major turned 
 abruptly in his saddle, looked at the writer sternly, 
 placed his hand on his revolver-handle, and replied, 
 " Get back into the ranks, there d d quick, or I'll put a 
 ball through your d d hide." In obeying the polite 
 command, the writer confronted Capt. Maddox. " Well, 
 well," said he, "I thought you were killed." " That's 
 what I thought about you," was the reply, and a hearty 
 " shake " followed. " There's my horse, Maddox," said 
 the writer, pointing at the animal mounted by a rebel sol- 
 dier. There was my rubber blanket just as it was left, 
 and my sword-scabbard strapped to the grand saddle, a 
 gift from Gen. Smith. "To what base uses are they 
 come at last." An excited rebel soldier amuses the citi- 
 
12 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 zen spectators by trailing one of our captured flags in 
 the dust behind his horse, in our front. Bodies of Con- 
 federate infantry were moving rapidly toward the Confed- 
 erate right flank. Women taunted us with, "Ah! boys, 
 you've got into Atlanta at last, haven't you?" Every- 
 body seemed crazed with delight. The troops cheered 
 so lustily while passing us that it seemed irregular, at 
 least, not to take .off our hats in acknowledgment of self- 
 appropriated compliments. Men, women, and children 
 gaze at us good-naturedly ; but occasionally there are 
 countenances sneering with scorn or pale with hatred. 
 This is among the rabble. The elite, especially the fairer 
 sex, extend only the welcome of compressed lips, and 
 eyes scintillating with expressions of hatred. All had 
 evidently heard only of the u great victor}^" If they 
 heeded the recent rattle of musketry, and the heavy 
 crashes of artillery which caused the earth to tremble 
 beneath their feet, they misinterpreted them to signify 
 the further discomfiture of the " boys in blue." But a 
 u change came o'er the spirit of their dreams:" Sher- 
 man's iron grasp encircled doomed Atlanta. 
 
 The Union prisoners were all brought to the yard of the 
 Confederate provost-marshal and enrolled as prisoners of 
 war. Among them were Col. R. K. Scott, Sixty-eighth 
 Ohio Infantry, commanding brigade ; Col. Warren Shedd, 
 of the Thirtieth Illinois Infantry; Lieut. Col. Wallace, 
 Forty-seventh Ohio Infantry ; Lieut. Col. Saunders, Six- 
 
OF THE WAK. 13 
 
 teenth Iowa Infantry; Maj. , of the Ninety-ninth In- 
 diana Infantry; a major of Gen. Harrow's staff; Capt. 
 Maddox, One Hundred and Sixteenth Illinois Infantry, 
 and of Second Division, Fifteenth Army Corps, staff ; and 
 many other officers of lower rank, all belonging to the 
 Army of the Tennessee, about eighty officers in all, be- 
 sides a great number of soldiers. It was now twilight. 
 *' Fall in, prisoners !" The line was formed. The officers 
 were separated from and preceded the soldiers. As we 
 marched southward, the streets were filled with old men, 
 women, and children ; and the many curious expressions 
 and taunts among the non-combatants suggested, in turn, 
 ignorance, prejudice, indifference, joy, and contempt. 
 Our guards, as a rule, meekly bore their honors without 
 compromising their dignity. " We are going to East 
 Point," said one guard. Since most of us hadn't been 
 to " West Point," we could at least visit East Point ; and 
 we merrily indulged in perpetrating puns on these two 
 decided extremes of "East Point, West," and "West 
 Point, East." 
 
 What a contrast between the exciting scenes of the day 
 and the calm and silence of the night, broken only by 
 the sounds of the dull tramp through the thick dust, the 
 occasional stern commands of the Confederate officers, 
 and the peaceful voices of the night. It is the gentle 
 approach of evening's holy hour that has bid the raging 
 tumult cease, 
 
14 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 "All things are hushed before her, as she throws 
 O'er earth and sky her mantle of repose." 
 
 A halt. Our infantry guards are relieved by cav- 
 alry, and the march resumed. The major of the 
 Ninety-ninth Indiana and the writer, concoct a plan 
 of escape. The horrors of Andersonville already loom 
 up before us. The plan is, to pass immediately behind 
 the horse of a guard, to be as far as possible from his 
 follower, and trust to the concealment of the shades 
 of night for the rest. An opportunity arrives; we 
 glide silently out of the ranks, and in an instant are 
 safely concealed in the adjoining woods. A rapid walk ; 
 a horse in the path, and also a dismounted cavalryman. 
 The snorting and uneasiness of the horse spreads to the 
 rider. " Who goes there? " he bawled, at the top of his 
 voice. No response; dead silence. Will he fire? "You 
 had better get back into the ranks d d quick, there, or 
 I'll put a slug through ye," said he, approaching us. 
 The major, doubtless wisely acting under the axiom ' ' Dis- 
 cretion 's the better part of valor," immediately glided 
 back toward the road, and the writer felt impelled to 
 reluctantly follow the good example. More indifferent 
 concerning our getting in than our getting out, we joined 
 the rear of the column, were detected, and placed under 
 special guard for the remainder of the march. 
 
 The evening was very sultry, the roads very dusty, 
 the day's excitement very exhausting, the prisoners very 
 
OF THE WAR. 15 
 
 much fatigued. We had not been invited to lunch, and 
 most of us had eaten nothing since morning. The dust 
 was suffocating ; hair, eyes, ears, nostrils, throat, lungs, 
 clothes, every thing covered or smeared with dust. 
 "Water!" cry the sufferers. "Can't we have some 
 water?" No response. The clouds which veiled the 
 sky slowly passed away, and a soft, silvery, misty light 
 fell upon us. In the dim moonlight we observe an occa- 
 sional glittering of the arms of our guards. But there 
 are no distinctions now in uniforms; we are all of a 
 color. The blue have all been converted into gray ; and 
 buttons no longer bright, shoulder-straps no longer bril- 
 liant, refuse to reflect the silvery rays. The general 
 hawking has become painful to the ear. There is a de- 
 pression in the road, and the head of the column enters a 
 pearly stream flowing across it. We hear the splash of 
 the water, and with gladdened eyes observe the precious 
 flood sparkle as it is forded by weary feet. Water! 
 What a boon! "Water," gratefully utter a hundred 
 thirsty throats ; but there is no halt. The guards gruffly 
 command, " Forward there ! push on there! close up!" 
 As the jaded and thirsty prisoners are hurried through 
 the rippling stream, hats, caps, hands, every thing, are 
 brought into requisition to acquire a few drops of the 
 cooling stream. Canteens are useless, their possessors 
 spending the precious moments in endeavoring to fill 
 themselves. The writer scooped up and eagerly swal- 
 
16 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 lowed what be could obtain by handf uls, but was hurried 
 through and on with the others. He was almost tempted 
 to drink and die. Surely death by drowning had lost all 
 of its terrors. So the panting, hungry, jaded prisoners, 
 burning with thirst, were driven through, yet permitted 
 to drink not of the refreshing gift, water, of all de- 
 sires the greatest! Delicious stream, of which we dare 
 not partake. It will require argument to convince any 
 of those comprised in this particular column of unfor- 
 tunates that there are many circumstances which can 
 surpass this in unnecessary suffering on the one hand, 
 or in the exhibition of refined cruelty on the other. 
 
 Shortly before midnight we arrived at East Point, 
 Georgia, several miles south of Atlanta, and corralled like 
 mules, an angular entrenchment forming two sides of our 
 limits. The general ciy was, Water ! the desire for which 
 seemed to be doubly increased by the aggravating circum- 
 stances at the ford. " For God's sake, colonel, or major, 
 or captain, give us only a little water! " In undue time 
 water delicious water was furnished. A new danger 
 presented itself: overdrinking. But there were thirsty 
 beings there, who would drink, and drink, apparently in 
 disregard of, if not inviting, danger. They thought of 
 nothing, heeded nothing, but water ; and seemed willing 
 to pay any penalty for their indulgence. No rations. 
 We immediately stretched our tired bodies on the bare 
 earth, and under the comforting cover of the clouds 
 
OF THE WAR. 17 
 
 were soon embraced in the soothing arms of slumber. 
 An hour passed ; the writer awoke, cold, and stiff in every 
 joint. A brisk walk around the "pen," for exercise 
 and observation. Oho! a double line of guards, eh? 
 and "no conversation with prisoners." Guess I'll not 
 be able to make that anticipated " watch trade" to-night. 
 A quiet return to " bed ;" a rolling and tossing restlessly ; 
 a gazing into "the dim-lit vault of the sky;" a mental 
 recapitulation of the battle ; a wonder if the General came 
 out safe (reckless man!), and if any of our staff were 
 hurt; how the Sixth Missouri stood it, and the general 
 result of the battle. "A thousand to ten" that the 
 Army of the Tennessee is sleeping in those works at the 
 present moment. A half-vision of charging rebels, flut- 
 tering battle-flags, roar and smoke of conflict, moans of 
 wounded, and the stars and stripes triumphantly waving 
 through the smoke of battle, and slumber closes the 
 weary eyelids. 
 
 July 23. Hungry fasted twenty-four hours. Still 
 no rations. We are permitted to trade with the natives ; 
 and the officers, now separated from the soldier-prisoners, 
 are trading watches, pocket-books, jewelry, ornaments, 
 money, finger-rings every possession but life for corn- 
 bread and other edibles. "What will you give for my 
 watch?" asked the writer of a lean, long, cadaverous- 
 looking corn-bread merchant. He looked at the time- 
 
 2 
 
18 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 piece a moment, and invitingly held out a small loaf 
 (or "pone") of bread. "No, sir!" indignantly re- 
 sponded the writer. " Will you give four loaves for it?" 
 5ln emphatic shake of the head. " Tlien I'll wait four 
 days longer for rations," said the writer. Another enter- 
 prising genius peddled watermelons. No possibility of 
 trading silver spurs for bread or potatoes, and desiring to 
 make other use of his watch, he obtained for the spurs 
 part of a very tempting watermelon. At evening the 
 long-hoped-for rations arrived. Hunger was not the 
 enemy that thirst had been. A dealing of rations to the 
 representatives of each mess of ten ; one coarse meal 
 cracker and a small bit of bacon, one ration. "This 
 is for twenty-four hours. ' ' The writer gratefully accepted 
 his "tenth," and proceeded to prepare it for demolition. 
 The bacon, experts say, consists of the "ends," and is 
 very generally suspected. What an advantage in the 
 maxim, "In the midst of arms, the laws are silent." 
 And why? Because otherwise the occupants of these 
 crackers could show superior titles against us, under 
 the statute of limitations. They'd only have to show 
 ten 3 r ears' possession. Very mouldy. An economical 
 brushing and blowing, and the writer, for one, was on 
 the outside of his rations in a twinkle. Others shut their 
 eyes and feasted. The only remaining consolation con- 
 cerning the " tenants " was that they got the worst of it. 
 JBut the "tenants" did not comprise the whole difficulty. 
 
OF THE WAR. 19 
 
 Many a manly struggle resulted in costing a tooth, and 
 paying with nothing but a worm. Those unaffected by 
 the change of diet slept upon the bosom of mother earth, 
 under the spangled covering, during the second night of 
 captivity. 
 
 July 24. Bright and beautiful morning. Stiffened 
 joints the rule ; hardship beginning to produce its effect 
 on many ; despondency general ; frequent muttering of 
 protests ; a few countenances cheerful. Hungry ; sick- 
 ness appearing. ' ' Rations ! rations ! ' ' cry the pris- 
 oners. Articles most valuable and longest retained, 
 hardest to part from, now freely traded for something, 
 anything, to eat ; but the majority can neither buy nor 
 beg. The day advances ; still no rations, no explanation. 
 The clamor for something to eat becomes boisterous; 
 loud expressions of indignation. There is a commotion 
 indicating a spirit of revolt. A battery of Napoleon guns 
 bearing on us are suggestively pointed at by the com- 
 manding officer, who sternly advises peaceful submis- 
 sion. Confederate gunners carelessly loll upon and 
 around the guns, with a " ready " appearance. "Double- 
 shotted with canister, eh? Well, we want something to 
 eat, that's all; we can't starve submissively." To those 
 who had so recently witnessed the terrible effect of can- 
 ister, the brazen muzzles of the frowning guns had a 
 peculiar significance, a soothing effect. Music by the 
 
20 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 band brass band. Prisoners regaled by the stirring 
 notes of "The Bonnie Blue Flag," "Dixie," and other 
 "national" airs. [Those notes sound in the writer's 
 memory as if but rendered yesterday.] Especially fine 
 were the cornet variations in "The Bonnie Blue Flag." 
 Toward the middle of the afternoon we were startled by 
 the singing of a -hymn near our enclosure. Now a fervent 
 prayer: an invocation of the Divine blessing upon "our 
 glorious army" and "righteous cause;" "the presi- 
 dent of these Confederate States, and all of our civil 
 and military authorities ;" "our sick and wounded and 
 mourning ; " an emphatic "Amen ! " What! no word for 
 us ? Is that Christian charity ? Guess that chaplain has 
 heard of the result of Hood's attempt to drive the Yan- 
 kees back to Chattanooga. There's considerable human 
 nature in human nature. There is more charity in the 
 singing; the good old hymns have the same words as 
 at home, and the harmony is fine, the effect soothing. 
 Slumber. Though the body was captive, the spirit was 
 unconfined. It passed the rebel sentries without chal- 
 lenge, flew over contending armies, and dwelt among 
 kind friends and pleasant faces. Harmonious sounds 
 of voices and rich strains of music greeted it; no 
 enemy, no gruff sentries, no hunger, no hardship, no- 
 war ; peace and plenty. Even the sweet face of one who 
 had recently passed from earthly scenes returned from 
 its better abode to greet it, and again respond to the 
 
OF THE WAR. 21 
 
 endearing name of mother! A sudden shock; an 
 awakening ; a drowsy realization of the beautiful delu- 
 sion ; a reluctant appreciation of the situation ; slow 
 moving of obstinate limbs ; reluctant action of stiffened 
 joints. 
 
 Evening. Rations at last; same as before in quality 
 and quantity. We were informed by announcement that 
 these rations were issued in advance for the following 
 twenty-four hours. Useless to protest ; we had but one 
 remaining right the right to submit. " That's the best 
 we can do ; we are short of rations for our own troops," 
 said the major. Most of us devoured the 4 ' twenty-four 
 hours rations in advance" at one standing. Darkness 
 again ; sleep, broken only by the relief of the guards or 
 by the challenges of sentries. Morning. 
 
 July 25. Continued silence in the direction of Atlanta. 
 What was the result of the battle? how many killed? 
 what does this silence mean? has Sherman fallen back? 
 has Hood evacuated ? were questions occasionally asked, 
 but no reliable responses elicited. One genius said, 
 4 'The Yankees can't fight for awhile; all the live ones 
 are busy burying the dead ones." (Astounding an- 
 nouncement astute sentry !) " How long are we going 
 to be kept in this miserable place? " " How long are we 
 to be kept on quarter-rations ? ' ' Nobody seemed to 
 know. We knew that exchanges of prisoners had ceased 
 
 
22 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 because of a misunderstanding or disagreement concern- 
 ing the status of negro troops, and that no immediate 
 prospects were entertained that the question could be 
 speedily settled. The gloomy prospect of Andersonville 
 loomed up again. Horrifying contemplation. A careful 
 mental consideration and adjustment of chances for life 
 resulted in favor of a desperate attempt to escape, rather 
 than attempt to survive Andersonville. While thus con- 
 templating, we were startled by the loud, stern com- 
 mand of a Confederate major, ordering, ''Fall in, 
 prisoners! Huny up!" A hasty formation into line 
 (no trouble about baggage), a march southward, the 
 officers separated from the soldier-captives. Where are 
 we going? Don't know; can't ascertain but toward 
 Andersonville. 
 
 Confederate officers rather provoke argument on the 
 subject of the war, and many interesting discussions en- 
 sue. No opportunity afforded an invitation to attempt to 
 escape. Near evening we march through Jonesboro, 
 Georgia, some twenty miles south of Atlanta, situated on 
 the Macon Railroad. Inhabitants line the street; first 
 Yankees great curiosities. Whites rather jubilant; 
 the pitying glances of the blacks indicate their sympa- 
 thy. Desiring confirmation, an opportunity was sought 
 to converse with a negro. (A beckoning, an approach.) 
 "Stop that," said the guard. "Get back there, you 
 d d nigger." But the mere prompt effort on the part 
 
OF THE WAR. 23 
 
 of the negro to respond was convincing enough of sym- 
 pathy and friendship. Two miles below the town, and 
 we reach our quarters for the night open field. A 
 blanket is carelessly thrown among the prisoners, and 
 falls upon the writer. Providential ; a great luxury ; 
 comforting rest assured. (A few fires ; retirement, shar- 
 ing the precious blanket with a fellow-captive. I won- 
 der, suspect. No yes; it is not gentle thoughts that 
 "come o'er me stealing." But there's something a 
 new enemy. Retreat? Impossible; a detachment of the 
 enemy already in possession ; vain attempt at dislodg- 
 ment. And they are ex-Confederates, too! Ravenous. 
 Sleep impossible ; escape possible. A guard approached. ) 
 "Halt there!" said he. "I want to speak with 
 you a moment," said the prisoner; "I've something 
 interesting to say to you." "Well, what is it?" asked 
 the sentry. "I have a very fine timepiece here (old 
 silver ' turnip '), and if you'll do me a small favor you 
 can have it," said the prisoner. The sentry seemed not 
 averse to possessing the watch ; and, looking wistly at it, 
 asked, "What favor do you want for it?" "Turn 
 your back and don't see me pass out," said the prisoner. 
 "Agreed," said the sentry. "I'll be back in a few 
 moments," said the prisoner. (A return to obtain a can- 
 teen and beg a little "hardtack;" a whispered "good- 
 bye;" a stealthy reapproach.) "Halt! where are you 
 going? " demanded the sentry. "It's only myself. It's 
 
24 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 all right," said the prisoner, approaching; " don't speak 
 so loud." " Stop, d d you! " said the sentry, emphat- 
 ically, bringing down his rifle. Thunder! A n&w 
 guard. The clanking sound of an officer's scabbard ap- 
 proached the sentry as the distance lengthened between 
 him and the chagrined captive, who picked his way 
 through the prostrated forms of prisoners back to his 
 44 mess" and cast his weary self upon "mother earth" 
 and slept until the early morning of 
 
 July 26, When we were gruffly ordered to " Fall in, 
 prisoners," and over very dusty roads marched rapidly 
 southward. No rations. At early evening we were cor- 
 ralled in a large enclosure or pasture some ten miles 
 north of Griffin, Georgia, near "Big Sandy Creek." 
 Several beautiful young ladies visited us from a neighbor- 
 ing plantation, and while not compromising themselves, 
 nor their friends who wore the gray, they still seemed to 
 possess those tender natures which sympathized with 
 suffering humanity even in blue, and kindly distributed 
 among the prisoners who approached them royal gifts in 
 the shape of luscious apples, of which the writer was 
 fortunate enough to obtain one. The occasion also served 
 to demonstrate to the Southern beauties that even under 
 adverse circumstances the Yankees did not forget their 
 early lessons in politeness and gratitude. Darkness dis- 
 persed visitors and brought quiet. We again rest on 
 
OF THE WAR. 26 
 
 " mother earth," huddling together like pigs to present 
 united resistance to the damp earth and chilly night air. 
 The writer gazed upward into the " dim-lit vault" above 
 him, and was busy with his thoughts. " Andersonville," 
 they say. "No chance for exchange, because of Con- 
 federate refusal to recognize colored troops. I'm cer- 
 tain I wouldn't live in Andersonville a week. "Uncle 
 Sam" not likely to yield the point on color. Desperate 
 alternative, but I'll take my chances in attempting to es- 
 cape. ' ' There's a gully, through a brier-patch. New light : 
 escape by way of burial. Plan matured ; trusty com- 
 rade officers assist. Tin cup, muscles, will, calculating in- 
 genuity, friendly suggestions, briers cut to be stuck in 
 the earth concealing the writer and present uninviting 
 appearance to pedestrians, and cautious work, were 
 brought into requisition, and the grave-digging was com- 
 pleted. During the labor, the captive's thoughts dwelt 
 with some misgivings upon the imperative orders of the 
 major, issued the day before in the presence of the 
 prisoners: "Shoot stragglers without warning. If you 
 catch a man hiding, bayonet him without a word. No 
 nonsense." Intended for intimidation, eh? Well, it's 
 safer to consider it in earnest. He thought also of the 
 immatured plan to disarm our guards ; how they were to 
 be set upon simultaneously; how information of three 
 companies behind us deterred us, and how disappointed 
 some were when better counsel discouraged the attempt 
 
26 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 to reverse the situation. But the "grave." Col. Shedd, 
 Thirtieth Illinois, now tendered his assistance. Boughs 
 and grass were gathered ; the adventurer fitted in ; satis- 
 faction. "All right, cover up." First came grass and 
 boughs, then "Oh here, Lieutenant, here are some 
 things you'll need." Col. Scott presented some maps 
 (linen) of the country, rolled up in which was a small 
 pocket-compass, presented by Col. Shedd. A canteen 
 was also presented, and served as a substitute for a pil- 
 low. A hurried hand-shaking, a -hasty good-bye, and 
 the burial proceeded. Earth came down upon him, press- 
 ing heavier and heavier. Old grass concealed fresh 
 earth, and, pursuant to programme, stalks of blackberry 
 were cut, and planted in the "new-made grave," in the 
 hope that they would appear uninviting to pedestrians 
 and better conceal the concealment. 
 
 Daylight approaches. Now the morning gray streams 
 in one little ray through the small aperture ingeniously 
 constructed at the head of the concealment for air. 
 "Lieutenant" (a voice from above), "here are some 
 rations for you, at your head, just under the surface." 
 " Oh thank you !" was the muffled response ; " but don't 
 stop up the hole." An hour slowly passed ; another 
 seemed like three. The pressure from above seemed to 
 increase more and more ; a ton couldn't seem heavier. 
 The right side and arm were now without feeling 
 paralyzed ; whole body in pain ; pressure terrible. The 
 
OF THE WAR. 27 
 
 suffering body suggested a reconsideration; ruled "out 
 of order ' ' as Andersonville came in view. A death-like 
 chill now seemed to penetrate the body of the buried 
 captive, as if threatening to freeze the vitals. To move 
 would be a luxury, but a motion of the "foundation" 
 would certainly demolish or disturb the upper stories. 
 
 July 27. Broad daylight. Distant view of sunlight. 
 My acquaintance entirely cut. Are their motives actuated 
 by prudence or fear? Wonder if every thing is all right? 
 Is there any fresh earth visible ? Do the briers stand up 
 properly? Considerable risk, this. Wouldn't like to be 
 the digger of my own grave. Foolish risk, perhaps. But 
 what can I do now but lie perfectly still? Unusual com- 
 motion above. Footsteps hastily approach the "brier- 
 patch." A voice, "All right, Lieutenant; lay low; good- 
 bye." (Retreating footsteps.) Encouragement and con- 
 solation. The "forsaken" indistinctly heard, "Hurry 
 up your breakfast!" (breakfast!) and "Fall in! " The 
 line extended in close proximity to the "missing" cap- 
 tive. " Column, right face ! forward march ! " and the 
 column was in motion. How distinctly can be heard the 
 regular tread. A sudden heavy pressure, another; 
 twice stepped upon, but by captives or captors remains 
 a mystery. A mounted Confederate rode at the rear of 
 the column, and the sound of the horse's feet beating on 
 the hardened path is distinctly heard by the hidden pris- 
 
28 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 oner ; nearer and nearer approaching, now alarmingly 
 close, and a welcome passage by. The loose earth rattled 
 down through the narrow window, and the danger passed. 
 The road reached by the column. A halt. "All right," 
 rang along the lines, and the column moved southward. 
 Glorious relief. The forsaken had chatted freely with a 
 Confederate officer the previous day, and entertained some 
 fear that on that account he might be missed the more 
 readily by the officer. The Confederate rear-guards now 
 drew rations from a wagon on the road, thereby neces- 
 sitating further patience. Rations drawn, guards and 
 wagon pass on; time is precious. Voices; a grunt; 
 a craunching ; crumbs chasing each other down the air- 
 hole. A modest hog calmly devours my hidden rations, 
 and leisurely passes on. Voices still: children. It 
 must be investigated. A slow pressure of the head up- 
 ward ; a giving of the covering ; a falling of the loose 
 earth and dust into ears and eyes and down the neck 
 (agreeable sensations!), and through a little mound of 
 sticks and boughs and briers and dirt peered two anx- 
 ious eyes over the recent "bed-chamber." A huge hog; 
 a negress, with two white children, evidently searching 
 for relics of Yankee visitation, were the only living things 
 visible. What a deserted appearance ; yet loneliness was 
 never before so coveted. Joy! a slight rain falls with 
 refreshing welcome, and drives the curiosity-hunters 
 from the field. Is there a possibility that the ground is 
 
OF THE WAR. 29 
 
 still watched? A listening; a further elevating of the 
 miscellaneous mound. Sounds of horses feet ; three 
 cavalrymen pass on the adjoining road in the direction 
 of the departed captives. A hasty lowering of the head ; 
 another reconnoissance. Raining copiously, and the 
 water trickles through the covering and renders the 
 u grave" untenable. Now! and with a bound and a 
 spring the slimy, narrow concealment was cleared, and 
 the adjoining timber entered at " double quick." What! 
 another blue uniform? and gliding away through the 
 timber like a deer. The captive stood spell-bound. The 
 tall object finally turned, stopped, and looked as if sur- 
 prised. A slow approach, an explanation, congratula- 
 tions, uniting of destinies for present purposes. " What 
 is your name, Lieutenant?" asked the companion. 
 "Bailey, of Gen. M. L. Smith's staff; and yours?" 
 "Lybyer," said he, "of the Indiana cavalry." Mutual 
 expressions of satisfaction; "misery loves company" 
 demonstrated. "You are very tall, Lybyer, but you 
 appear very young for a soldier," suggested the officer. 
 "I'm six feet and over, and seventeen years of age," 
 said he. "Why, eighteen is the youngest enlistment in 
 our army. How did you get in?" asked the officer. 
 "Well," said he, "I got in on my length, I suppose." 
 A united, hearty laugh. 
 
 It was not until after the writer reached the Federal 
 lines that he learned that the prisoners were halted and 
 
30 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 counted when about half a mile from camp, and one 
 officer reported as missing ; that a patrol was immediately 
 sent back, and, shortly after, shooting was heard, which 
 all supposed was occasioned by the discovery of the 
 concealed captive. Hence, when the special exchange 
 between Sherman and Hood was effected, the fellow-cap- 
 tives reported the writer as undoubtedly killed. Doubt- 
 less the shooting was intended to produce that impression 
 among the prisoners. 
 
 The floodgates of the skies seemed opened, and the rain 
 fell in torrents. A retreat to the heart of the woods. 
 The whole surface was inundated. We stood upon the 
 elevated localities under the great trees, and mutely con- 
 sidered the situation, while the storm raged fearfully. 
 We were as wet as water could make us ; still, it was 
 considered better to be out of the water than in it. 
 Homeless, houseless, friendless, wet, cold, such cir- 
 cumstances were well calculated to dampen the ardor and 
 cool the zeal of the most ambitious, and to destroy the 
 ecstacy which attended the first realization of freedom. 
 For hours we silently stood, each in his own way contem- 
 plating the situation. The storm of wind and water raged 
 fearfully, causing the woods to roar like old ocean. The 
 aged oaks groaned dismally, and bowed their venerable 
 heads to the gale. Toward evening the storm abated. 
 Broken trees and swollen streams were left to attest its 
 fury. * ' How did you get away ? ' ' asked the officer. ' ' I 
 
OF THE WAR. 31 
 
 was asleep in a brush-pile. I didn't wake up until after 
 they'd gone ; then I thought I'd go the other way," said 
 Lybyer. "How did you get away?" "Buried myself," 
 said the officer, with an explanation of the mode. We 
 feasted on blackberries ; water liquid mud. Hungry. 
 Twilight ; we approach the road. A mansion ; negro 
 cabins in rear. Objectives the blacks. A whispered 
 consultation ; we are unanimous in our opinion that the 
 blacks are our friends. We reach the road. Hark ! hoofs 
 pattering on the well- washed road ; approaching. We 
 immediately drop behind a large bush, and lie protected 
 from the mud on the grassy border of the field. We now 
 hear the clanking of sabres, and human voices. A squad- 
 ron of cavalry pass, clearly visible in the twilight. We 
 had no inclination to interfere with them ; they pass 
 without challenge. 
 
 Opportunity presenting, we cross the road, and circle 
 around the mansion (to avoid the dogs we had heard bark 
 during the day) to the cabin of a negro. Halt! listen! 
 Voices within negro voices. The writer selected a small 
 pebble from the ground, and tossed it through the dark- 
 ness toward the door. It struck against the door with 
 a loud crack. The door was softly opened. A voice, 
 "Who dar?" "It's friends, aunty," said the writer; 
 " come to the fence." "Who is you?" said she. "Come 
 out and see," was the response ; " we'll not harm you." 
 She hesitatingly approached the fence, and was informed 
 
32 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 in a whisper, "We are Yankees, aunty." "Is you r 
 sah? [Peering at our uniforms closely.] De Lord bles& 
 you, sah ! Hi, hi ! and hab yon done got away from our 
 folks?" "Yes," came the response, "and we are wet 
 through, and very hungry. Can you help us? " "I jes& 
 can ; but dar's a white gal in dar now. When she's done 
 gone, I'll call you," she said. We trusted her, and our 
 confidence was not misplaced. We waited half an hour,, 
 when we were electrified by the announcement, " She's- 
 done gone, and I'se got some supper for you." We 
 entered the humble hut, and there was spread for us her 
 offering to the cause we represented. Wheat biscuits 
 glorious ! warm corn-bread luxurious ! fried apples 
 excellent! raw apples golden! Nothing prevented our 
 enjoyment to the utmost of our capacities, which seemed 
 almost unlimited, save an occasional remonstrance by 
 our teeth, which had become somewhat sensitive after 
 our free indulgence in blackberries. Lybyer had retained 
 his haversack, and the writer had none. "Take dis yere 
 one," said our benefactress, presenting a worn and greasy 
 Confederate haversack. "Oh thank thank you , aunty, ' ' 
 replied he, grasping the coveted "grub-bag" eagerly. 
 Near midnight; a glorious fire on the humble hearth; 
 clothes drying nicely ; boots drying on the feet if 
 taken off, no assurance of ability to replace them. We 
 grow cheerful under the "limbering-up " process. Inqui- 
 ries : "About thirty miles from Atlanta." First Yankees 
 
OF THE WAR. 33 
 
 ever seen ; would find negroes all friendly ; if caught, 
 might be killed. Rebs, "grand rascals;" "no 'pen- 
 dence on 'em." Our implicit confidence in the negroes 
 became a settled fact. We counted on their indispensable 
 assistance at the beginning ; failing to obtain it, we knew 
 the effort to reach our lines would prove futile. Con- 
 sultation of maps and compass ; filling of haversacks ; 
 expressions of gratitude ; farewell ; " De Lord bless you- 
 uns ; " departure. 
 
 Our plan was formed to adhere to a north-easterly 
 course, avoiding, or at least independently of, roads and 
 -settlements, and reach the Northern Georgia Railroad, 
 which extended from Atlanta to Augusta, near Lithonia 
 or Covington, over thirty miles distant, and attempt to 
 follow the iron conductor, as closely as circumstances 
 would permit, westward toward Atlanta. To approach 
 Atlanta directly would be a foolish attempt to pass through 
 the lines of both armies ; our aim was to pass around the 
 Confederate right flank and into the Federal left, in which 
 attempt we anticipated the necessity only of avoiding 
 detached bodies of rebels, foragers, stragglers, or scouts, 
 which generally select the flanks of their respective armies 
 for their operations and observation, and where we con- 
 sidered the chances about equal in opportunities to conceal 
 ourselves from Confederates and to disclose to Federals. 
 North-eastward. Mud ! mud ! mud ! The rain had ren- 
 dered the ploughed fields almost impassable. Boots, which 
 
 3 
 
34 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 had seemed to defy efforts to pull off, now seemed to test 
 our ability to keep on or to pull out. But roads must be 
 avoided ; the direction must be maintained ; the north-star 
 must be to the left of our front continuously ; each step 
 must place us one step further north. But all the fields 
 were not ploughed, and relief was frequently afforded by 
 reaching alternately pasture and woodland. At inter- 
 vals we forded refreshing streams of water, gratefully 
 exchanging the surplus weight of mud for that of water. 
 So we marched, trudged, stumbled, occasionally tearing 
 our way through clinging, affectionate brier-patches ; but 
 we were buoyant with hope, and strong with the first im- 
 pulses of freedom. The woods possessed an impenetra- 
 ble darkness, and all nature seemed at rest. The solem- 
 nity was broken only by the " voices of the night," and 
 the occasional baying of distant watch-dogs. How did 
 we maintain our direction while in the woods ? Why, we 
 had a pilot a pilot that was bribe-proof, obeying only 
 nature and nature's God the little compass. How did 
 we see the needle in the dark? The same nature that 
 influenced the needle provided a light which illumined its 
 surroundings within the compass. How? By sending it 
 through the night air, inviting us to accept it. In what 
 shape ? In the shape of harmless little fire-flies ' ' light- 
 ning-bugs." Each successive captive fly crawling over 
 the glass of the little military compass rendered the val- 
 uable services required of him, and was released from 
 
OF THE WAR. 35 
 
 duty, unharmed, after the capture of his successor. Shin- 
 ing mercies; valuable allies; light to our gloomy path- 
 way; friendship enkindled to endure through life: no 
 injury shall befall any of your kind through me ; no harm 
 shall be threatened without my interposing plea in your 
 behalf. We reach a grand old oak near the centre of a 
 pasture, and wellnigh exhausted we cast ourselves upon 
 the damp grass and stretched our weary frames. 
 
 A brilliant conundrum here provoked some discussion,, 
 in spite of surroundings: "Why are we like the com- 
 pass?" repeated the writer. "I can't imagine. Let's 
 see; is it because we are made up of brass and point?" 
 "No, no," was the reply; "'cause we're pointing 
 north." Dead silence. Lybyer smiled the smile of 
 original genius. "But the needle points, not the com- 
 pass," suggested the writer. "Well," ain't the needle 
 part of the compass?" asked the other. "Yes," was 
 the reply; "still, it's only the needle that points. 
 Then we're only like a part of the compass, eh?" 
 "The most important part," he rejoined. " Then your 
 conundrum is not well put," said the writer, exultingly. 
 "Well," said he, "say needle for compass." "Still 
 you would be lame," replied the writer ; "for we are not 
 pointing north, but directly north-east." A united 
 laugh. Slumber touched our weary eyelids, and we slept. 
 An hour passed ; we awoke. That sleep ! Apprecia- 
 tion of the sufferings of Rip Van Winkle after his twenty- 
 
36 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 years slumber. Rheumatics refractory joints diso- 
 bedient muscles death-like chill invitation to despon- 
 dency terrible pains. Onward march; fields, woods, 
 mud, streams passed, and warmth returns to our chilled 
 bones. The morning light is breaking, and the record 
 of- 
 
 July 28th opens. The frequent crowing of cocks in 
 various directions indicates a village or settlement. We 
 reach the border of large, swampy woods ; determina- 
 tion to u anchor " there for the day. We climb over a high 
 fence, press through the marsh, and seeking a dry eleva- 
 tion, establish headquarters for the day, happy in the 
 contemplation of gorging ourselves with the luscious 
 watermelon which the writer had stumbled against en 
 route, and had clung tenaciously to for miles of the 
 weary night's march. What's that? Hounds, as we're 
 alive ! yelping and howling upon our pathway across., the 
 adjoining fields. Nearer and nearer. From elevated 
 positions on stumps and saplings we observe the howling 
 brutes following our path. Now they are at the fence, 
 and where we climbed over. No followers ; must be en- 
 deavoring to create an excitement on their own responsi- 
 bility. Now their distressing howls penetrate through 
 the forest, reechoing like a dismal wail. Headquar- 
 ters no longer considered tenable ; hasty leave ; rapid 
 transit; swamp; water knee-deep ; a stream. Glorious! 
 
OF THE WAR. 37 
 
 Down it we go, waist-deep in its shielding waters, 
 about three-quarters of a mile. Dry land again. 
 4 'That's the only way to hide scent from those bloody 
 brutes, Lybyer," said the writer, almost breathlessly, and 
 still clinging like grim death to the prized watermelon. 
 "Listen! " The brutes have passed the fence, and are 
 howling on our path through the timber. Now a dismal 
 chorus of unearthly howls resounds through the woods. 
 "They must have struck headquarters," said Lybyer, 
 breathing heavily. On they rush, howling and bellow- 
 ing, to the stream, whose protecting waters had conveyed 
 all traces of the timid adventurers beyond the reach of 
 the keen noses of the brutes. Up stream, and down 
 stream, and across stream, howling and wailing, while 
 two weary and drenched mortals stood with trembling 
 anxiety awaiting the test of the experiment. The sounds 
 became more infrequent and lighter ; they ceased. 
 Friendly stream ! without thee, and a knowledge of thy 
 virtue, how might the happy result be changed. " Those 
 dogs have been used to huntin' niggers, I'll bet," said 
 Lybyer, breathing freer, and bunglingly attempting to 
 wring the lower parts of his pants. "They seemed sav- 
 age enough to eat us, without regard to color," replied 
 the writer. "Darn lucky escape," added Lybyer. 
 
 We discover another "island;" reestablish "head- 
 quarters;" listen long and attentively; settle down for 
 the day. Slight fall of rain. A disrobement, and double 
 
38 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 strength applied to twisting our wardrobes. "Twist for 
 me and I'll twist for you." Rain ceases. Glorious sun- 
 light streams through the thick foliage, with golden 
 lustre, and myriads of lingering crystal drops sparkle and 
 flash like diamonds in the tree-tops. Beautiful ! Higher 
 arose our genial friend " Old Sol," and two half -clad and 
 tired refugees gladly basked in the warm rays. 
 
 "Breakfast," called the writer. "Come, L}^byer, 
 we're going to cut a watermelon." A rusty knife brought 
 into requisition; a struggle; a victory. The water- 
 melon opened; invited a feast (?). "I don't believe 
 that's a watermelon," said Lybyer, rather facetiously, 
 gazing at the two parts of the prize. ' ' What ? Maybe 
 you never saw this kind before," replied the writer, 
 suddenly realizing that Lybyer was right, yet unwilling 
 to acknowledge it abruptly. (I never was so taken in 
 in my life, thought he silently.) "Kind?" said Lybyer, 
 "That's the kind we used to call gourds in Indiana." 
 The " secret " was out. "Why don't you eat it, Lieuten- 
 ant ?' ' inquired L. , with a merry twinkle in his eye. ' ' Have 
 a piece? " asked the writer, evasively, passing half to L. 
 " No, thank you," said he ; " don't eat melons, 'cept for 
 dessert." "The main objection to this melon is, it's 
 green," said the writer, feigning disappointment. " Them 
 kind 's always green," chimed in L. "All watermelons 
 are always green, you know," said the writer. "All of 
 'em?" inquired L. "How about the ripe ones, then?" 
 
OF THE WAR. 39 
 
 *' Ripe, yet always green on the outside," said the writer, 
 looking merrily full into L.'s face for a recognition of 
 brilliancy. "Oh yaas, that way," said he, unapprecia- 
 tively. " Now, this thing is green inside as well as 
 outside unfit to eat," and the two halves were tossed 
 to one side contemptuously by the writer. It is often the 
 case with woman's love, but the man's in this instance 
 had "clung like ivy to a worthless thing." More sun- 
 light enabled both to enjoy the sunny side of the joke. 
 
 More stripping, and wringing, and hanging to dry. 
 That's all right; we were born this way; but still, don't 
 want to be caught this way. Dry and don is the rule. 
 Each sleeps and watches alternately ; draw cuts for first 
 sleep ; each sleeps, each watches three hours ; writer's 
 watch common property ; two heads decidedly better than 
 one. Writer's turn to watch; L. snores like the " seven 
 sleepers," make it eight. Sounds of breaking limbs 
 in the distance ; two piercing eyes peering at us from the 
 foliage ; hog approaches ; quite neighborly ; grunts ; curi- 
 ous ; nearer. Ah, the "watermelon." Quite welcome, 
 sir. Craunching and grunting ; history of "watermelon," 
 as a whole or in halves, ended ; treated also to cracker- 
 crumbs ; encourage company;" visitor all right; won't 
 tell tales. Hum "Rock of Ages. ' ' Hogs like "music ;" 
 enchanted ; motionless as a statue ; a grunt ; queer 
 brutes ; strong prejudices ; headstrong ; anti-German ; 
 Jewishly inclined; pork ham bacon lard pigs' 
 
40 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 feet sausage head-cheese. Three porker companions 
 reenforce the first discoverer ; all seem fond of hymns. 
 Any relief from the dull drag of the weary hours accept- 
 able. Dogs barking; cocks crowing. Must be near 
 somebody's plantation. 
 
 Hark! Yes; a low, rumbling sound in the distance. 
 Cannon ! Continued distant sullen rumbling. That 
 sounds business-like. [It was Hood's sallying attack on 
 the old Army of the Tennessee, which changed position 
 from the extreme left to the extreme right of the Federal 
 lines. Result, six hundred and forty-two left dead on the 
 field before in completed entrenchments in process of con- 
 struction, and a speedy and bloody repulse. It was- 
 Hood's last mad, vain attempt to raise the siege of Atlanta, 
 and to free himself from the tightening grasp of Sher- 
 man's veteran army. Thousands of his" best infantry 
 were lost in the persistent attempt to escape the inevit- 
 able.] 
 
 Listen to that harmony of human voices in the other 
 direction, the plaintive songs of negro field-hands 
 returning from work. How melodious, yet how mourn- 
 ful 1 How in keeping with the present delicious calm ! 
 What strange contrast with the sweet notes of nature's 
 warblers, as they sport among the tree-tops, enjoying the 
 last rays of the setting sun ! A glimpse of the western 
 horizon. Unparalleled beauty; marvellous brilliancy! 
 The heavens aglow with golden light; crimson and 
 
OF THE WAR. 41 
 
 purple and gold exquisitely and inexplicably blended ; 
 silvery-lined clouds floating in happy relief against the 
 blazing glory beyond them, and fiery rays streaming far 
 upward into the heavens ; fantastic forms of cloudy 
 images sporting before the enchanting beauty as if in 
 ecstasy, bathing in the golden flood of evening's sunlight. 
 "Lybyer," said the writer, "just look at that sunset; 
 did you ever see the equal of that?" L. peeped through 
 the foliage a moment, and turning away, muttered, " Have 
 just as pretty ones in Indiana." "Maybe they've got 
 another sun there," said the writer, perhaps a little 
 sharply. L. remained silent. 
 
 Preparation for the march ; dry as a chip ; eager ; we 
 must make tracks lively to-night ; time is precious. 
 Hark! a voice, " Whoa, Dolly ! whoa, Dolly!" Not for 
 us. Carefully creeping toward the fence, and peeping 
 through the shrubbery, the writer beheld, only a few 
 yards distant, an individual endeavoring to catch his 
 mare ; slouch hat coatless long hair thin, sharp fea- 
 tures Roman nose goat beard veritable Southern 
 type no questions no acquaintance desired. Man 
 mounts animal and departs. Almost ready; comforta- 
 ble ; happy in the anticipation of rapid strides homeward. 
 Distant rumbling: cannon or thunder? Lightning, 
 thunder nearer, heavier terrible crashes ; lightning 
 vivid, blinding; preliminary breezes, preceding great 
 drops. Crushed hopes ; blighted prospects ; Egyptian 
 
42 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 darkness ; floodgates open ; torrents, torrents, torrents ; 
 summarily drenched to the skin ; ardor cooled : sunlight 
 of hope, storm of despair. No use waiting; all right. 
 North-eastwardly through the descending torrents ; mud, 
 slippery; fields, pastures; stumbling through dark, 
 wet woods ; compass ; fire-flies ; direction. Awful dark ; 
 can't keep together ; novel expedient ; take hold of my 
 coat-tail ; better. Stumbling over logs and stumps ; 
 tearing through briers ; butting against saplings ; feeling 
 along. Two hours passed; so has the storm, so are 
 the woods. Open field ; good time ; rapid walking. By 
 all that's holy, what's that? Suddenly heavy, unearthly 
 sounds fill the air. We stand as if petrified ; hearts in 
 throat. A large drove of hogs suddenly aroused, 
 "Hoff! hoff! hoff! " and a great rushing and running, 
 creating noise sufficient to be heard across the field. 
 What a fright ; so unexpected. We knelt where we were, 
 awaiting the possible result of the unseasonable uproar. 
 No alarm ; march resumed. Midnight. Indistinct out- 
 lines of large tree in centre of a pasture invite us to rest 
 beneath its branches. We accept. Clothes wet ; ground 
 wet ; every thing wet. But we are too tired to proceed 
 further ; we droop at the foot of the friendly oak, and 
 are soon both fast asleep. Haversacks for pillows ; a cold, 
 cold sleep. Awakening ; terrible sensation ; joints glued 
 together; desperate struggles; determined efforts; pluck. 
 On our feet again. Victor} 7 ! No warmth. We limp 
 
OF THE WAR. 43 
 
 north-eastwardly ; walk; warmer; good time. Reach a 
 thick forest; feel along its border for road, path, or 
 opening. None ; tempus fugit; penetrate the gloomy 
 woods ; black ; imagination feels the darkness ; stumb- 
 ling down, up; down, up. It's disagreeable and 
 painful to fall, but it's comforting to be able to rise after 
 each fall. Bushes, undergrowth, logs, stumps, briers, 
 trees wet. Their presence proved only by contact; 
 eyes as useless as spectacles to a mole. Limb-snapped 
 faces, sore shins, torn faces and hands, disordered 
 clothing. Rather monotonous taking the lead, "bear- 
 ing the brunt;" necessity, however. Lybyer's cav- 
 alry jacket is tailless ; lucky fellow ; way broken for 
 him; but a frequent " ouch! " indicates that he too has 
 stubbed a toe, snapped an eye, struck a shin, or caught a 
 brier. "Direction?" a halt for observations ; listen! 
 No earthly sound save the voices of the night and our 
 own whisperings. Where's our guide (fire-fly)? Aban- 
 doned us; the deserter. "A pretty fix;" heart of 
 Georgia forest ; stars obscured ; very dark ; danger of 
 making exit where we entered, to realize we have en- 
 dured and spent our failing strength to no purpose. De- 
 lightful surroundings ; pleasant prospects ; a consultation ; 
 a rest. 
 
 Look behind. The heavens are lit up with a lurid 
 glare. A fire! another! another! Three fires; miles 
 distant ; our cavalry at work. Proposition to turn back 
 
44: A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 voted down. Must be our boys ; but where would they 
 be when we could reach the fires ? Fires miles apart, indi- 
 cate a circling around toward the Confederate right flank ; 
 but will they continue to circle ? or will they be driven or 
 turn back, or go still further south? Our boys, sure, 
 among the rebel wagon- trains, depots, mills, and railroads. 
 No sound of conflict or skirmish. No u blue-coats " 
 warming themselves at those fires now. Wish they'd 
 come nearer. Brighter ; red reflections cast upon the 
 dark clouds away up in the heavens, lighting up the 
 gloomy earth and sky like the fading colors of closing 
 day ; a bloody sky. Wish we were in the open could 
 see better. Can almost see the needle of the compass. 
 Alas ! not quite. Backs to the fading lights. Onward ! 
 Partial but sufficient repetition of recent experiences in 
 progress. The fires render use of eyes possible. 
 
 Hist ! another fire in advance of us. Can it be pick- 
 ets? Plan of approach. Halt! listen! On, step by 
 step ; no sounds refugees sleeping around the em- 
 bers of a fading camp-fire on all fours. Peculiar fire ; 
 right on it ought to hear snoring silent as death. 
 We arise. No pickets no refugees no sleepers no 
 danger nothing but a decayed log and its scattered 
 pieces innocently phosphorescing in its vain attempt to 
 brighten the surrounding gloom. Substitute for fire- 
 fly application to compass. Needle pointing northward, 
 as usual ; but we are not pointing north-eastward, 
 
OF THE WAR. 45 
 
 as usual. We were not "turned completely around;" 
 but we were not travelling according to programme 
 that's sufficient. New pilot phosphorus. Heavens 
 brighten ; woods less gloomy ; trees seen indistinctly. 
 Pilot not as accommodating as the former ; far less 
 ability. Brighter still morning gray. Excellent time ; 
 rapid progress break ahead ; the contemptible forest 
 cleared. Daybreak. Wonder how many miles we made 
 last night through that aggravating net-work. 
 
 Glory, hallelujah! nothing but a rail fence separates us 
 from a veritable watermelon-patch remember the last 
 " watermelon." A charge a capture ; investigation of 
 interior of a fine one. O luscious product of the vine ! 
 Oh, yum-yum ! Deplorable limited capacity. Talk about 
 table etiquette, and indelicate sounds while eating soup. 
 Just listen at Lybyer. (Expect L. is thinking same 
 thing about me.) Really difficult to tell who's making 
 the most of that indecent racket. Two countenances 
 hidden buried, and revelling in the luscious delights of 
 stolen sweets. Another, and another. " Why is eatin' 
 these like eatin' soup with a fork?" " Give it up ; yum- 
 yum ! " said L. "Hard to get enough of it!" United 
 laugh ; fortune had allayed caution. The morning sun 
 now shone beautifully on 
 
 July 29. Arms and "otherwise" full of watermel- 
 ons. Cautious retreat; slow movements not caused by 
 
46 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 lameness entirely. Inviting blackberry-patch; " head- 
 quarters;" berries large and sweet; pearly rivulet. Al- 
 most paid to endure the perilous passage through the 
 tangled wildwood by night, to reach such happiness as 
 this in the morning ; consolation. But do people go 
 blackberrying in this country? Improbable; bushes too- 
 full of past-ripe berries ; marshy spot this ; more invit- 
 ing localities, especially after rain. "Anchor," subject 
 to further orders, for the day. Avenue of escape in case 
 of danger? The rippling little stream beside us we can 
 crawl up or down unseen. But what if surprised now? 
 Escape impossible. Crawl up stream? Why, we can't 
 bend over. Run? Why, we can hardly walk. We couldn't 
 even surrender gracefully. Two old women armed with 
 blackberry-baskets could readily take us. We couldn't 
 even " explain " "too full for utterance." "Dinner" 
 Soup: L'eau de terre (a la ripple). Baked: Pain de 
 ble (a la mush). Entree: Melon d'eau, red. Dessert: 
 Confederate berries (a VAfricaim). Ample for a king 
 under like circumstances. Composed ; stripping ; wring- 
 ing, drying process. Alternate "picket-duty." Taking 
 observations of day sounds ; plantation-houses out of 
 sight, but within hearing. Bread rations gone ; deter- 
 mination to " draw" a further supply, or fail in the at- 
 tempt. 
 
 Evening. Rumbling of numerous wagon-wheels near 
 by ; must be a road ; the ' ' mansion ' ' must be on that 
 
OF THE WAR. 47 
 
 road, and the humble huts of sable friends must be in 
 rear of the mansion. What road is that? Maps, com- 
 pass consulted. It must be the main road leading east 
 and west from McDonough. Are we east or west of that 
 to-be-avoided town? That's the question; unsolved. 
 Twilight ; preparation ; departure in single file. The 
 well-worn road reached and crossed ; cautious passage 
 beside the road to approach and ascertain relative positions 
 of high and low dwellings; object accomplished. The 
 usual circuitous performance brought us to a fence which 
 separated us only a few feet from the negro-cabins. De- 
 termined to trust to negroes again, and to make the 
 second test of fidelity to the cause we represented. 
 Listen ! All quiet. A silent approach to a hut ; scaling 
 the fence that separated us ; a peep through a friendly 
 crevice ; a negress and a white lady sitting silently, calmly 
 gazing into the royal log-fire on the hearth. A large dog 
 now came snuffing the air around the cabin, and observing 
 the writer, barked furiously at him. A skip a bound 
 a leap fence cleared, and a double retreat to a neighbor- 
 ing peach-orchard rest. Another approach to another 
 cabin end cabin; more cover for retreat. The writer 
 cast a small pebble over the fence against the door. 
 Crack! it sounded. No response; experiment repeated; 
 great commotion within the cabin ; shuffling of feet r 
 and general bustle. Two or three negresses ran from the 
 cabin's opposite door or window toward the "big 
 
48 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 house." Negro cautiously approached the fence. "Un- 
 cle, uncle," said the writer; "here, we're Yankees." 
 " Uncle " shook like a leaf in the wind. " De Lord bless 
 us," said he, " is de rest comin' ? " " Hope so, uncle," 
 said the writer. ' ' Are you friendly ? " " Lor' yes, ' ' said 
 he ; " we's all friendly, sho." The immediate importance 
 of overtaking and quieting the timid negresses who had 
 sped toward the "big house" was impressed, and fleet 
 feet carried information which transformed fear into curi- 
 osity. The fugitives silently returned ; the exciting news 
 spread quickly from cabin to cabin ; a group of sable 
 admirers stood awe-stricken before real, live, veritable 
 Yankees. First Yankees seen. " Such beau'ful uni- 
 forms ! " " Such nice gemmen ! " Too much commotion 
 here ; retreat to heart of peach-orchard suggested, and 
 executed. Prime object, something to eat. Men fol- 
 lowed us to our retreat ; women remained in cabins to 
 vie with each other in preparing and presenting ele- 
 gant repasts. Glorious prospect. Peach-orchard retreat 
 reached. Questions explanations congratulations 
 antics admiration. Women approaching stealthily, one 
 by one, bearing warm biscuits (elegant), sweet fried bacon 
 (grand), hot corn-coffee, "'lasses sweet'nin' " (coup-de- 
 grace). Did ever such fortune overtake such forlorn 
 creatures before? Their enlarged ideas concerning the 
 Yankee and his -capacity found illustration in the amount 
 of these offerings. They seemed to provide enough to 
 
OF THE WAR. 49 
 
 feed a full company of infantry. We crammed and 
 stuffed ; full. Questions curious, absurd, and ridiculous ; 
 ideas right on the main question woefully contorted on 
 some of the incidentals. The war, slavery, freedom, 
 Lincoln, Grant, Sherman almost eve^thing and every- 
 body. 
 
 News. One of our friends who has been in the "big 
 house" returns almost breathless, and imparts the infor- 
 mation that the Yankees have burned Lovejoy's Station 
 on the Atlanta and Macon Railroad, twenty miles south 
 of Atlanta, and were momentarily expected on the road 
 we had just left, en route to the Federal left flank. 
 Glorious news ; beaming countenances ; congratulations ;. 
 dancing for joy! "When was the station burned?" 
 4 'Last night," the messenger replied. "We saw the 
 fires," chimed in L. " What command did you hear?"" 
 asked the writer. "Command of Mr. Sherman, I 
 reckon," replied the messenger, not comprehending my 
 meaning. "I mean, who was the head one of our boys 
 at Lovejoy's? " repeated the writer, simplifying. " Oh, 
 dat," said he; "why I heerd de white folks talkin' 'bout 
 Mr. Kilpatrick's calvary comp'ny. Oh, dey's comin' sho ; 
 I can a'most feel 'em now." Maps, compass; great 
 excitement. Negro cabins deserted, may attract attention 
 of white folks. " No, no, hi, hi! dey's too sceered." 
 Caution cautioned ; plan of action ; the road to be 
 watched all night. "George" is to take us in charge 
 
50 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 and guide us to safe cover within one hundred }^ards of 
 the road. Haversacks overstuffed with the remains of 
 our royal repast ; comforting quilts furnished in abun- 
 dance by friendly hands. Negroes not "on duty" to 
 return to respective cabins and remain quietly ; secrecy 
 and safety. We arose to execute the plan ; surrounded 
 by dusky friends, who handle and investigate clothing, 
 caps, boots, complimenting every thing, of course, in the 
 highest terms. Bather diffident in the company stood a 
 modest creature, whom the writer now recognized as 
 the " white lady " he had seen while peeping through 
 the cabin's logs ; question ; confirmation ; poorly clad, 
 but very beautiful; white, yet accounted "black;" 
 worse still, a slave. Conversation ; manifestly much 
 pleased at my preference and attention; "house-girl;" 
 intellectually towering high above her crude companions ; 
 fine features Grecian no African trace; fair, rounded 
 face ; large, lustrous, brown eyes ; form, so far as can be 
 judged through rags, a model for the sculptor. How 
 natural the conclusion : blood of the master reduced to 
 slaveiy. If we could only stop here ; if slavery were all ; 
 if absolute dominion were out of consideration. To the 
 slave, beauty is a blighting curse. The richer the gifts 
 of nature, the swifter and surer the demolition of chas- 
 tity by beastly " proprietors." Owned " bought with 
 a price " fiendish traffic in one's own flesh and blood ; 
 repulsive thoughts. "Civilization." "How long? How 
 
OF THE WAR. 51 
 
 long?" The question is being answered daily by the 
 distant rumbling of Federal cannon, and nightly by the 
 lurid glare that paints the Southern sky. We also here 
 again listen to the "stories" told the blacks by the 
 whites concerning the horrid mental and physical natures 
 of the Yankees. Many of them are too ridiculous even 
 to repeat, and all of them disclose desperate efforts to 
 conceal the truth by vainly attempting to strengthen the 
 superstitions of the ignorant. Rational explanations. 
 Reception and supper decidedly warm. Grateful "good- 
 night" to our variously colored friends. "George." 
 " Headquarters" for night; midnight retirement; quilts 
 great luxuries ; glorious slumber in the woods. Day- 
 break, sunlight ; still we slumber. 
 
 July 30. Quite early this morning we were regaled 
 by the sounds of heavy cannonading Atlantaward. 
 Never appeared so close nor so distinct as now, since 
 taking our leave of that doomed city. The sounds of 
 the great guns roll heavily through the morning air, 
 creating quite a martial spirit at "these headquarters." 
 [It was the Federal batteries shelling the stronghold.] A 
 stream of clear water must be the same upon which we 
 * 8 encamped" yesterday in the distant blackberry-patch. 
 Luscious wash. Breakfast, as is one, from our haver- 
 sacks. Where's George? Strange absence; faith, 
 hope. Take extra precaution ; prepare for emergencies. 
 
62 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 we shift "headquarters" to another position, com- 
 manding view of the former ; also concealing ourselves 
 from view of any venturer upon the well-beaten path 
 extending near by our retreat. First night of rest since 
 capture ; animal spirits returned ; even disposed to be 
 frisky; strong as a regiment. Noon; no tidings no 
 appearance ; conjectures misgivings late afternoon. 
 Writer left L. on guard, and cautiously proceeded to the 
 stream near by, for water and wash. At the stream un- 
 consciously too near a path. Commotion and shouting. 
 The writer quickly looked up in the direction whence 
 came the sounds, and saw a cow coming rapidly down the 
 path on a run ; a dog was descried following the cow, 
 and two white boys were following the dog. To fall back 
 toward headquarters would result in almost certain expo- 
 sure no time to think immediate action. " Sic her I 
 sic her!" shouted the boys. The writer ran into the 
 thickest part of the woods ; the cow saw him, and left the 
 path to follow so good an example persistent follower ; 
 race long and exciting ; curving around tree-clusters 
 darting through thickets Yankee cow dog boys 
 a fence ; glorious partition at it, over it in a twinkle ; 
 corn-field retreat awaiting developments. Gratified that 
 the mandate "Sic her," still continued unchanged to 
 "Sic him." The dog forced the cow from the fence, 
 and the race continued, minus the "leading" character. 
 The contrary brute turned homeward, and soon the 
 
OF THE WAR. 53 
 
 sounds of the chase ceased. Fool cow sagacious dog 
 astute (?) boys protecting fence fortunate escape 
 hasty return to headquarters half mile. L. all right. 
 Tale of adventure; lucky laughter tired. 
 
 Evening. Through the thick foliage, stepping cau- 
 tiously, half crouching, we descry a human form ap- 
 proaching our former quarters. Lying flat upon the 
 ground, we silently watch the stealthy movements ; black 
 face confidence. He looked at the marked tree, and 
 then at our recent bivouac, and seemed nonplussed. He 
 peered mysteriously in various directions ; we arose he 
 discovered and approached us it's George ; "brought 
 little lunch ' ' thoughtful George. ' ' Thanks. ' ' Living 
 high now. "What's the news?" Explanation the Fed- 
 erals had not arrived, but some of the rebels had, and 
 stopped at the "big house" colored folks crestfallen. 
 Becuperated refreshed restless determined. 
 
 Late evening. Peach-orchard ; supper No. 2 ; repe- 
 tition of first, with warm, veritable apple-pie added. (Ye 
 epicures. ) A feast ; profuse expressions of gratitude ; 
 filling of haversacks ; many a ' ' God bless you ; " a 
 hearty farewell, and under the guidance of George we 
 were conducted to the main Decatur road extending 
 northward to Decatur, six miles west of Atlanta. " Lit- 
 tle travelled ; safe to proceed cautiously on this road." 
 Whispered gratitude silent hand-shaking; George re- 
 turns. We proceed on the road cautiously northward, 
 
54 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 rapidly, silently, single file. Plan of procedure: The 
 writer constituted the " advance guard; " L. comprised 
 the "rear guard." Any approach to either end of the 
 "column" was to be communicated to the other by the 
 casting of a pebble, in which case the alarming end was 
 to unite with the other for consultation; distance be- 
 tween "detachments," forty feet. This method consid- 
 ered best. ,Two make more noise than one ; no unneces- 
 sary talking hear better. 
 
 Lybyer deserves more particular mention necessary to 
 assist reader in fully comprehending situation. He was- 
 very tall, disproportionate not agile, sluggish mild- 
 mannered honest dull inexperienced indiscreet at 
 times, careless full appetite enjoys sleep sometimes 
 morose lacks nerve tractable stumbles steps on 
 dry limbs, kicks rocks, noisy getting over fences ; apolo- 
 gizes "can't help it;" does his best, not to blame ; 
 excited in presence of danger good-natured carries a 
 leathern "valise" on each foot makes his companion 
 nervous and doubting, especially when silence is the 
 great desideratum companionable, welcome, agreeable,, 
 trustworthy desirable, except in the presence of danger, 
 when solicitude extends to foes and friend alike rather 
 prone to But we all have our faults and weaknesses,, 
 and by casting a glance within, can find sufficient food 
 for contemplation, relieving of the assumed necessity of 
 dwelling upon the failings of others, even though the 
 
OF THE WAR. 55 
 
 failings be presented interwoven among recognitions of 
 worth. 
 
 Still northward rapid marching several miles gained 
 
 a little fatigued. Small, abrupt rise in the road; 
 abrupt fall immediate!} 7 beyond it. Sufficiently advanced 
 to obtain a view of Walnut Creek bottom a fire by the 
 roadside. Warning pebble apprizes L. of danger. Halt! 
 Observation gurgling waters of the creek brighter 
 blazing of the fire Federals, refugees, or rebels? L. 
 placed in concealed position beside the road, while writer 
 attempts a reconnoissance off the road ; cautious ap- 
 proach wagons stacked arms sentry in road, lazily 
 pacing to and fro company sitting around fire, chat- 
 ting dialect decidedly Southern sentry approaches fire 
 
 shining rifle-barrel, glistening buttons, gray uniform. 
 That's sufficient. A silent return to L. ; disclosure of 
 the information, "They're rebs ! " Departure, with in- 
 tent to circle around a difficulty which we would not at- 
 tempt to remove. Crossing fields, we reach in safety the 
 creek several yards below the fire quite a creek dash- 
 ing waters friendly sounds noise of stream favorable 
 for our purpose. A slight elevation ; screen of foliage ; 
 quiet observation wagon-guards. Too near the creek ; 
 log crossing ; up and down the stream to find safe crossing ; 
 none too deep to ford, too swift to swim. Whispering 
 consultation ; the log crossing our only present hope. 
 " What ! " said L., " over that log? " " It's a risk, but 
 
56 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 what else can we do? " asked the writer. " We can't stay 
 here long thinking about it, either." Desperate plan 
 fortunate miniature roar of the current. "We'll have 
 to go right by 'em," said L., recalling the fact of danger. 
 " Well, the stream's racket will help us," said the writer ; 
 "and we must get over as soon as we possibly can, con- 
 sistent with safety." Perfection of plan ; writer ahead, L. 
 following some fifteen feet behind on all-fours cau- 
 tious slow progress. Halt ! listen ! On ! Fire blazes 
 up light shining now full in our faces end of the 
 coveted log in view ; underbrush foliage only separates 
 it a few feet from the group around the fire ; fire blazes 
 still brighter. (Really believe I'd get out of this if I 
 could ; as much danger to u back " now, as to go ahead.) 
 Log didn't seem so uncomfortably near before we ap- 
 proached bushes didn't seem half so small from dis- 
 tance. We crawl to protecting shadow of small bush, and 
 lie and listen. Lybyer doing exceedingly well ; moves with 
 me, and halts with me. Only an occasional slight crack- 
 ing of limbs and twigs, but harmless in the noise of 
 rushing waters. End of log almost within reach, yet 
 how many "miles" away! Reconsideration; great 
 risk ugly customers thoughts of cold, damp slum- 
 bers on the open ground ; determination snail-like prog- 
 ress end of log reached. Listen ! Above the sounds of 
 the noisy stream, the writer heard the voice of one of the 
 guards relating a story to his companions seated around 
 
OF THE WAR. 57 
 
 the camp-fire. Separated from recapture now, only by a 
 few feet and the shielding foliage of a clump of bushes, 
 through which streamed the lurid light of the fire. The 
 story a ivoman in the case, as usual hope it's a long 
 story, and interesting. There's that sentry nearing the 
 group, evidently to get the point of the tale glistening 
 rifle-barrel. Wonder how Lybyer's making it? Won't 
 wait to hear the upshot of the story trust the others 
 have more interest in it. Rebs rolled in blankets, sleep- 
 ing near fire army wagons foragers wagon-guards 
 hardly ten feet distant; could almost reach that officer's 
 hat! Over! over! ''Suppose I should be overtaken or 
 met on this ominous log ? ' ' Over the centre of the splash- 
 ing waters, and while waiting to witness L.'s perform- 
 ance, silently filled canteen from the stream below. L. 
 moves like a snake upon the log, and, in a manner admir- 
 able, progresses northward, reaching the writer. No 
 longer snail-paces ; we arise and foot it rapidly to the 
 other shore safe ! well done ; whispering mutual admira- 
 tion and congratulations. More caution. 
 
 But enemies and danger suddenly sprang from an un- 
 expected source. The horses which were tied to the 
 wagons had taken the alarm, and exhibited decided evi- 
 dences of great uneasiness ; pawing the ground and snort- 
 ing loudly pricked ears toward our side of the stream. 
 A glance at the group convinced us that their attention 
 had been attracted to the conduct of the animals, and 
 
58 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 was now directed across the creek ! No time to waste 
 action steep rise before us thick growth of under- 
 brush up we glide, as rapidly as safety permitted ; brisk 
 walk half-way up sudden cracking and snapping. 
 Alas! L. had selected a route of his own, and was en- 
 tangled, apparently hopelessly, in a brush-heap ; the 
 struggle continued unabated L. manifestly desperate ! 
 The listening Confederates now sprang to their feet, some 
 seizing their rifles demolishing the regulation stack of 
 arms which had graced the picture, glistening in the red- 
 dened glow of the fire, and bearing satisfactory evidence 
 
 *. 
 
 of military training. The sentry in the road, in a half- 
 whispering voice, hurriedly uttered something to his 
 aroused companions, and came to the water's edge. Now 
 they all seem to stand with ears, eyes, and mouths wide 
 open, gazing up on the hillside, apparently wondering what 
 could mean the occasional cracking sounds still continuing. 
 Two now stand at the end of the log, holding above their 
 heads large burning brands which cast a flood of light 
 upon the hillside villainous persistency darkness 
 turned to day to move would certainly betray our posi- 
 tions and invite a rifle-shot. Now' 11 come a challenge ; 
 it will be ruin to respond, it may be death to refuse to 
 respond no pathway out of this scrape visible. Respond, 
 4 ' A friend ;" 'twill cause momentary hesitation, at least ; 
 then run the other way, and take the remaining chances 
 will act on that suggestion tormenting glare light as 
 
OF THE WAR. 59 
 
 day very awkward extremity ; one arm drawn carefully 
 and slowly upward in the attempt to conceal the face, the 
 other twisted in the attempt to interpose it between 
 glaring Confederate eyeballs and a suggestive row of 
 glittering Federal coat-buttons motionless as the neigh- 
 boring oak ; daring to watch opposite movements with 
 but one eye, and that partially concealed behind elbow 
 wrinkles of blue cloth ; subdued sounds from the brush- 
 heap, but no challenge. What can that mean? Those 
 fellows can't be regular soldiers so much the worse for 
 us, if caught. Here comes a fellow with a fresh brand 
 blazing over his head he is crossing the log, brand in 
 one hand, rifle in the other ; another approaches the log, 
 rifle in hand sentry standing in road, " arms, port." 
 Still no challenge, no shot "green troops;" time for 
 action here. A loud whisper : u I/ybyer, save yourself " 
 an abrupt turn, a leap, and the writer bounded up the 
 hillside, joyfully disappointed at not realizing the dreaded 
 expectation of a shot and a whizzing bullet. A sudden 
 additional cracking of dry limbs, and L. was also free, 
 and making excellent time up the hillside. We united on 
 the level field above, and without following the terrible 
 example of " Lot's wife," ran as fast as frightened, hope- 
 ful fugitives could run, not directly northward, and 
 away from the recent scenes, not in the direction which 
 would naturally invite pursuit, but circled around, even 
 to the extent of reaching the bank of Walnut Creek again, 
 
A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 less than a mile below. A rest ; almost breathless ; water ; 
 narrow escape. ''Thought we were gone, one time," 
 said L. ; "when that fellow came over with his torch." 
 Congratulations warnings compass fire-flies direc- 
 tion forward steady marching, without interruption, 
 until overtaken by the morning gray of 
 
 July 31. Scan surroundings for favorable spot to re- 
 establish ' ' headquarters. ' ' We never select such spot with 
 a view to comfort, or because beautiful, or elevated, or 
 dry safety is the prime consideration, before which all 
 others must yield. Large brier-patch selected small 
 stream gushing through it; we trample down the thick 
 vines, and appropriate a few square yards for our purpose 
 no deed, no license ; trespassers (don't deny it) black- 
 berries in luscious, tempting clusters. Stealing? Deny it ; 
 foraging at most, confiscation. Breakfast from our 
 full haversacks (bringing kind remembrances of our vari- 
 ously colored friends on the other side of romantic Wal- 
 nut Creek) and blackberries. Where can we be ? Maps, 
 compass conjectures. Not a solitary domestic sound 
 must be distant from plantation or road even our little 
 feathered friends seem to have deserted us, and no 
 longer peer at us from neighboring limbs with curious 
 gaze, nor enliven us with their sweet songs. Abandoned 
 drowsy. For the first time, by day, we carelessly omitted 
 to alternately watch and sleep, and both were soon sleep- 
 
OF THE WAR. 61 
 
 ing soundly tired out. When we awoke, after an hour's 
 sleep, the sun was shining brightly, and its warm rays 
 penetrating through the thin protection rendered our posi- 
 tion uncomfortably warm hot ; retreat impossible. We 
 find that some relief is afforded even by the scanty 
 shade of the briers around us, through which we had 
 torn to our present position in the heart of the patch ; 
 smallest service is acceptable. Thanks. 
 
 " The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, 
 Protects the lingering dew-drop from the sun." 
 
 Tall, thorny " daisies" these two innocent ''linger- 
 ing dew-drops" elongated comparisons; alternately 
 watching and sleeping remainder of the day. Dark, 
 ominous clouds rolled heavily in the sky, bringing even- 
 ing's welcome hour sooner than expected early start to- 
 night. Threatening clouds ; how they roll and surge ; 
 now cramped in contact, now swelling out and rising 
 like moving mountains storm-tossed ocean above us. 
 "Water in them clouds," said L., looking upward pen- 
 sively. " Sublime," said the other. " See how they toss 
 and swell ; look at that monster mountain of cloud ; per- 
 fect picture, with its snow-capped summit, lofty brow 
 encircled by fleecy clouds ; and see the raging billows 
 beating impulsively against its base. What sublimity! " 
 "I don't want to get wet," added L., evidently enter- 
 taining disagreeable recollections of the past, and a 
 practical realization of the present. Vivid flashes of 
 
62 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 lightning. See how they disclose great cavities how 
 they lighten deep caverns ; how they set forth, in bold 
 relief, crags and peaks and promontories ; now dancing 
 and chasing each other among fantastically formed fleecy 
 images, run fine, vivid, fiery sprites now sporting lightly 
 with sunny crowns, that garnish dignity now angrily 
 flashing with a sudden glare among cloudy mountain 
 rocks, followed by deep, crashing tones of " heaven's 
 artillery;" the earth trembles; the deep-toned thunder 
 rolls and reverberates through the heavens, ending in 
 faint rumblings in the distant sky. "Grand!" ex- 
 claimed the writer. " Don't see any thing very grand 
 in getting soaked through again," said L. "Wish we 
 could strike shelter somewhere another night's journey 
 spoiled." Practical L. "Let's seek shelter," said the 
 writer maybe we can strike a cabin, or a barn, or a hay- 
 cock, or something else, and keep dry." Agreed de- 
 parture tearing through our surroundings, and reaching 
 terra firma. No house, no cabins, no sheds, no shelter, 
 save the trees; now "fumbling" for the lost main De- 
 catur road bearing in its supposed direction. 
 
 Hark! rumbling of wagon- wheels numerous. We're 
 very near a road ; sounds^ approaching ; still nearer; con- 
 cealment point is to see, and not be seen. Here they 
 come, one, two, three, several wagons loaded with 
 household furniture refugees. Trouble in the air ; flee- 
 ing from expected Yankees splendid surface indica- 
 
OF THE WAR. 63 
 
 tions. Their distress our glory they avoid what we 
 seek ; Yankees common objects of interest, but in oppo- 
 site meaning. Another and another wagon-train three 
 trains, several wagons in each. Some commotion in 
 affairs military must be the mainspring of their hurry 
 and action men (a la rear-guard) unarmed, on horse- 
 back. Great drops of rain ; thicker ; torrents raging 
 tempest ; of course, summarily wet to the skin standing 
 under a huge oak for " protection." Writer looked at L. 
 through the blinding rain rim of his hat turned down, 
 and the pearly waters flowing off in a circular cataract 
 around his dejected countenance that's the advantage 
 of a hat writer wears cap. A bid for some recogni- 
 tion, by peering inquiringly at the hardty discernible fea- 
 tures beyond the miniature cascade recognition a 
 roguish laugh for encouragement response by L. by a 
 silent, grim grin. Half-hour passes ; storm subsides ; all 
 nature dripping wet. 
 
 We were not aware of our proximity to a path through 
 the woods, leading to the neighboring road, and of course 
 could not account for the clattering of hoofs over a stony 
 portion of the path, and behind us. Sudden as a shock 
 appeared, only a few feet from us, a horse, upon which 
 was mounted a woman too late to move too late to 
 speak. The writer stood with back against the old oak, 
 perfectly motionless ; L. suddenly sprang behind the 
 same tree. The rider's attention was evidently attracted 
 
64: A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 by the movement. She suddenly looked, and immedi- 
 ately her eyes met those of the writer a surprised gaze 
 on the one hand a mild, assuring, harmless observation 
 on the other. Passing, she turned her head and contin- 
 ued the same anxious, inquiring look until lost to sight 
 amid the foliage. We listened it was the lady excit- 
 ingly urging her steed to greater effort. " Now what? " 
 asked L. " She saw us, sure." " Why, out of this im- 
 mediately." "She's only a woman," added L. "And, 
 like most other women, she has gentlemen friends," 
 quickly added the other, attempting an appropriate finish 
 to the sentence. Thoughts of possible consequences ; 
 might not be agreeable to all concerned. Double-quick ; 
 clearing the timber friendly blackberry-patch; briers, 
 water, mud concealed. 
 
 Sounds of more refugee wagons. Darkness without 
 deception frequent distant flashes in the heavens, from 
 which came no reports, save an occasional sullen rumble. 
 The retreating storm ; darker lightning flashes vividly; 
 sharp and irregular ; blinding eyesight rendered worth- 
 less brilliant electrical display nature's pyrotechnics; 
 rapid, almost constant alternate lighting up of earth and 
 sky, and impenetrable darkness ; two extremes deep 
 black curtain of nature, fitfully rising and falling alter- 
 nately, exhibiting glaring revelations of indefinite and 
 weird scenery. Frogs, and crickets, and whippoorwills 
 unusually happy and correspondingly noisy dreamy in- 
 
OF THE WAR. 65 
 
 fluences. Present desideratum the main Decatur road ; 
 we rather abruptly left it to our left (westward) at Wal- 
 nut Creek " skirmish," and it must still be to the west; 
 hence temporary new direction, north-westward ; com- 
 pass, fire-fly our course indicated and taken ; less than 
 half-hour's march, while feeling our way along amid the 
 darkness, rendered darker by the sudden, fitful brilliancy, 
 very damaging to eyesight, we reach a wide, hardened 
 road, extending north and south. "That's it no road 
 ^between us and the main Decatur must be it." Temp- 
 tation to exchange chances in the wet and muddy fields 
 for the hard road too great for resistance. Clothes wet 
 through, heavy, muddy ; misfortune enough without add- 
 ing to it by struggling through miry fields and gloomy 
 woodland, instead of making rapid time on the hard, 
 well-washed road. Tormenting antics of electricity less 
 brilliant thanks. Give us inky darkness as a welcome 
 change. 
 
 Northward, northward ; rapid strides no conversation ; 
 single file ; excellent time ; hope midnight. Listen ! 
 " What can that be at this hour of night?" It's hammer- 
 ing or chopping dim outlines of a house beside the road, 
 on the rise of ground beyond the depression before us, 
 from which the sounds proceed. Male voices distinctly 
 audible we cautiously approach to the little rippling 
 stream which crosses the road through the depression 
 quenching thirst filling the canteen afresh discussing 
 
 5 
 
66 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 the situation in whispers. " Can it be possible that ' our 
 boys ' are in that house ? possible that here is the Federal 
 advance which caused the commotion among the fleeing 
 refugees witnessed the evening before?" Possible, prob- 
 able ; yet caution how easy to be mistaken ; danger 
 of over-confidence in circumstances and appearances. 
 Voices of men still heard hammering at intervals j 
 would willingly give the only remaining valuable, my 
 watch, to know the sentiments of those persons, or to see 
 the color of their uniforms. Soldiers? Of course they're 
 soldiers ; no bodies of men travel these roads but soldiers ; 
 none other would be permitted, if they would travel them. 
 The magic power of that great u tell-tale," the camp-fire, 
 is absent ; can't even discover but a very faint light in 
 the house probably the hearth- fire for cooking. Plan of 
 operations : L. to perform the arc of a circle on the side 
 opposite the house, leaving the fence here, circling around 
 and reaching the fence again at a point corresponding to 
 present position on the opposite side of the house ; the 
 other to proceed cautiously inside the fence to a point 
 opposite the house, and endeavor to determine the mean- 
 ing of the noises and the color of the uniforms of the 
 inmates ; the one to await the coming of the other at the 
 designated spot. L. started out, and was soon lost in the 
 darkness the other stepped cautiously along the fence 
 toward the object to be attained, and reached a point 
 immediately across the road, opposite the house, and, as 
 
OF THE WAR. 67 
 
 subsequent developments will indicate, silently rested his 
 arms on the fence and listened, with eyes steadily fixed 
 on the building ; no light now, no sound silent as the 
 grave. Looks like a church, or anywhere North would 
 pass for a school-house. A sudden hawking, or clearing 
 of a throat, on the same side of the road as was the 
 listener, and within six feet (if the paralyzed senses could 
 judge of distance), drove the blood immediately to the 
 heart! The venturesome listener stood as if instantly 
 petrified not a movement of a muscle, and breathless ; 
 helpless, and lost in absorbing wonder! Dumbfounded 
 beyond description, his surprised eyes now witnessed the 
 careless knocking of a pipe against the stock of a 
 shouldered rifle, the falling sparks dimly revealing in the 
 darkness glittering buttons and gray uniform! Oh, for 
 one moment of magic power to silently sink into the 
 earth ! Slowly returning senses. u How did I get here?'" 
 How to get away ; "wait, I can do nothing but wait ; '* 
 waited nearly one mortal minute seemed an hour; no- 
 change in the terrible situation movement of the dreaded 
 object it's only to bring the butt of the rifle to the 
 ground, but it created a sensation in a quarter he least, 
 suspected indicates an intention to stay. Wonder if he 
 ever sits on a fence? Horrifying thought ! Waiting peril- 
 ous in the extreme departing equally perilous ; fearful 
 dilemma one horn a bayonet, the other a bullet. Sur- 
 render? Never! Recapture inevitable? Not until the 
 
68 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 very last chance, however imperceptibly thin, has been 
 taken and fails. 
 
 Almost involuntarily the form of the adventurer slowly 
 and silently sank toward the ground. The " very last 
 chance " seemed to hang on the creaking of a boot or 
 cracking of a joint. The ground was reached ; a posi- 
 tion slowly attained on "all-fours" a silent and slow 
 "heading" away from the fence; a breathless retreat; 
 one hand, one knee one at a time, feeling carefully with 
 each before pressing, and silently removing or avoiding 
 twigs or other suspicious substances ; and thus, with 
 gilded hope in every movement, and warning caution in 
 every inch gained, the distance between the sentry and 
 the fugitive was slowly and surely lengthened. More 
 distance; more hope; less caution forty feet away! 
 The crawler arose silently and looked through the dark- 
 ness toward the fence an involuntary shudder short 
 distance long trip ; nearly an hour nervous excite- 
 ment too great relapse ; head pillowed in soiled hands 
 a slight fainting spell ; only a moment. 
 
 " Where's I/^byer? No telling what he might think or 
 do." Approaching the appointed meeting-place halt; 
 hark ! whistling. " That must be L. right direction ; " 
 cautious approach. If separated by day, the familiar 
 whistle oi *' Bob White " was to indicate our where- 
 abouts ; if by night, the more difficult imitation of the 
 whistle of the whippoorwill was to be attempted. Three 
 
OP 'THE WAR. 69 
 
 o'clock in the morning ; " Bob White " from neighboring 
 fence hasty approach. " Rebel pickets at that house ! '* 
 excitement unseemly haste dismounting from fence; 
 down comes end of a rail with a racket. " Fell off itself "" 
 (of course it did) rails frequently become refractory; 
 safety only in avoidance ugly companions not reliable. 
 Rapid marching; single-file difficult road again; excel- 
 lent time a fork in road; " which is which?" maps, 
 compass, fire-flies, conjectures. While in consultation, we 
 were aroused by approaching sounds in the road queer 
 sounds; horses or men? Tinkling of a canteen, indicat- 
 ing measured tread of its owner probably the ''relief 
 guard " marching to the house on the road maybe for- 
 agers, sensibly preferring to march during cool night 
 rather than during hot day. We conclude not to permit 
 these night marauders to " pass in review " before us ; we 
 have had excitement enough for present purposes, hence 
 we move rapid!}'' westward across the fields ; then north- 
 ward, penetrating and traversing thick, tangled wood- 
 land, and muddy fields. Shortly before daylight we hap- 
 pily entered woods of pine trees no brush, no briers, no 
 obstructions of any kind rapid progress pass small 
 hut dog howls dismally at us ; brute continues howling 
 long after we have passed the object of his faithful protec- 
 tion ; must be a hound other dogs bark. 
 
 Sudden bright red glare north-westwardly. (Atlanta!) 
 Federals not driven back yet? Unaccountable quiet, 
 
70 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 however, considering that two great armies are confront- 
 ing each other. Puzzling speculations a temporary rest 
 in the pines ; we select concealed spot beneath protecting 
 pine limbs, and stretch our weary bones on the cold, wet 
 earth. No news ; no encouraging sounds of cannon omi- 
 nous silence Atlantaward doubts, fears, speculations, 
 conjectures, ignorance enemies in enemy's country 
 thoughts of home, of friends, of companions in arms, of 
 chances of meeting them again, of glowing firesides, of 
 beaming countenances, all in contrast with the present. 
 Raining. How hath the poet painted our situation : 
 
 " My life is cold and dark and dreary ; 
 It rains, and the wind is never weary. 
 
 My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past ; 
 
 But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, 
 And the days are dark and dreary." 
 
 Disconsolate. At last sleep came and touched the 
 weary eyelids. The rain fell gently, dripping through 
 the pine limbs upon the slumbering forms of those who 
 lie dreaming of distant homes and warm firesides. We 
 awoke, cold, wet, stiff, sore, and downhearted very ex- 
 istence miserable. Surrender as prisoners? No; unani- 
 mously prefer to die in the woods rather than take the 
 chances of living in a rebel prison. To escape the latter 
 is what we have suffered and risked so much for, and we 
 will continue to take our chances of life and of returning 
 to our lines, in the woods, as cheerfully as possible ac- 
 cepting all the threatening consequences. 
 
OF THE WAR. 71 
 
 August 1 . Foggy rations gone ; we must seek as- 
 sistance. We proceed through the lonely pines, making 
 desperate efforts to get our limbs and joints in working 
 order, yet never uttering a word. A yearning not for 
 food, not for drink, not for comforts, not for the Federal 
 lines, not for warmth, not for friends, not for safety ; a 
 deeper yearning for a something which none of these wants 
 could supply a longing for some sympathy ; some love, 
 to partially fill the vacancy in the heart ; a nearer rela- 
 tionship, a more satisfactory and closer communion with 
 the spirit form which had seemed to hover near, en- 
 couraging by its smiles and presence through dark, dis- 
 couraging hours, through all dangers and hardships and 
 trials, through surrounding gloom. When shrouded by 
 disappointment's mists, and when the spirit fainted under 
 the burden of despair, then was the presence of this 
 heavenly spirit manifested in the strengthening and lift- 
 ing-up of the drooping soul. Yet there's a void in the 
 heart like the void in the household, and the soul grows 
 weary in indefinite contemplation : 
 
 " Weary, so weary of wishing 
 
 For a form that has gone from my sight: 
 For a voice that is hushed to me ever, 
 For eyes that to me were so bright." 
 
 How do memory's nimble fingers speedily gather holy 
 impressions and associations of childhood and of man- 
 hood, and arrange them in crowded clusters around the 
 
72 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 dearest of all earthly names. What name is brighter, 
 purer, holier, than that of "mother"? 
 
 A brisk walk through the pines, of about an hour, 
 brought us to oak timber ; we reach a creek quite a 
 river ; we cross on a log. and select a spot in the rather 
 open woods for headquarters. Daylight ; dangerous to 
 proceed further dangerous to stop ; novel expedient ; 
 fortunate enough to retain pocket-knives, and with their aid 
 branches are cut, and a very deceiving concealment impro- 
 vised. Breakfast: corn-bread mush, "colored;" star- 
 vation sauce. Encouragement domestic sounds; we 
 can almost observe our requisitions for rations honored ; 
 strong faith; a short trip of observation; expectations 
 realized, plantation ; plantation without negro cabins and 
 occupants would be no plantation for us ; a path through 
 woods nearly quarter of a mile distant ; we easily command 
 it with our eyes; seems freshly travelled. Repose; 
 watching for sights, listening for sounds, alternately ; at 
 least one pair of eyes bearing constantly on the distant 
 path through the open woods ; at last vigilance was re- 
 warded negroes, apparently field-hands, passing; reso- 
 lution to hail the first sole negro who passes ; oppor- 
 tunity presented rapid walking to head him off ap- 
 proach negro still whistling ; nearer ; still unattracted. 
 " Heigh-ho ! Sam ! " He stopped as suddenly as if struck 
 with a bullet ! a silent, steady, astonished, inquiring gaze 
 at the stranger in a blue uniform. " Come here, off the 
 
OF THE WAR. 73 
 
 path, Sam," said the writer, patronizingly. " Sam " stood 
 as motionless as an oak a half-subdued inquiring gaze 
 was the only response. "See here a minute," said the 
 other, beginning to experience some misgivings about the 
 African. Half smiling, half doubting, and with a hesi- 
 tating step, he slowly approached. " Who is you, sah? " 
 asked he, as if prescribing a condition precedent to fur- 
 ther approach. (Trust; faith.) " I'm a Yankee," said 
 the other, looking intently into the dusky countenance for 
 an interpretation of possibly concealed feeling, which the 
 illumination of the features might be calculated to hide. 
 "Fur troo, sah? Lord bless my soul! Dey say de 
 Yankees do dress in blue." "Yes, Sam," replied the 
 other, assuringly. "Can't you tell by my speech?" 
 " You don't talk like none o' our folks, dat's shoo. But I 
 nebber seed a Yankee, and dunno." "Are you friendly 
 to the Yankees, Sam?" inquired the writer. "I is, sah, 
 fur fact no mistake," he said quickly, with considerable 
 emphasis. Genuine sentiment. "Well, I have a companion 
 near by ; and we are very, very hungry. Can you get us 
 something to eat? " asked the other. " Wait a bit," said 
 he. "I'll go and tell Caesar, sly, and bring him to you." 
 "Who's 'Caesar?'" asked the other. "He's a mighty 
 big friend o' you folks;" and off he started rapidly 
 down the path after " Caesar." Writer returned to L. 
 caution; watching; "Sam" returns with "Caesar" 
 rude introduction ; two pair of eyeballs entirety sur- 
 
74 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 rounded with white. " Don't live 'bout yere ; belong to a 
 refugee named Darby, who is camping near." Rations 
 "scace," but willing to divide; unanimous consent to 
 the proposition very hungry. They depart; we take 
 the usual precautions ; they return ; rations corn bread, 
 good! hot bean-soup, glorious! apples, fine! We take 
 the "course" from top to bottom; sauce (superior to 
 any furnished by the finest first-class hotels), hun- 
 ger ; gratitude inquiries ; maps compass. Plantation 
 near? "Yes, Smith's." "Caesar" in the role of 
 41 envoy extraordinary" to the "foreigners" of Smith's 
 plantation will return near evening ; caution ; depart- 
 ure ; evening ; return mission well performed. "Smith's 
 folks crazy to see you." Caesar to act as pilot after 
 dark; Caesar and Dan (miscalled "Sam") advised to 
 return to refugee teams, to allay any suspicion which 
 might have been created by their absence, and remain 
 there until after dark. The future and the horizon 
 brighten together. 
 
 "Behind the clouds the sun is shining." 
 After-dark came, and so did faithful Caesar ; we were 
 piloted to the road near Smith's plantation. Perhaps over- 
 cautious, but refused to venture further until met and 
 assured by one of Smith's negroes the word carried 
 return, and with it came " Peyt," one of Smith's slaves. 
 He seemed delighted to meet us. Peyt's complexion was 
 as black as the night; he spoke in broken plantation 
 
OF THE WAR. 75 
 
 idiom, but expressed himself accurately, and evidenced an 
 extraordinary amount of uncommon sense he proved a 
 cheerful and valuable ally. In as good language and with 
 as graceful manner as possible he informed us that a 
 " big supper" awaited us at the cabin of his sister, 
 * ' Aunt Mary. ' ' Accepted trusty escorts through an 
 orchard circling around to the cabin-door of "Aunt 
 Mary.*' A peep in disclosed a room full of curious, ex- 
 cited negroes. "No, this will not do too much com- 
 motion; too much risk." Plan: post trusty young 
 negroes about fifty feet out on every path and road by 
 which access can be gained to the cabins happy 
 thought; plan executed; "pickets" to report first sus- 
 picious sound or sight entree. We were confronted by 
 a roomful of eager, gazing countenances; expressions 
 of surprise, curiosity, wonder, admiration, reverence, 
 joy, and even fear; but "friend" was also stamped 
 on every face. Our admirers appeared dumfounded 
 as they beheld for the first time genuine live Yankees, 
 and observed for the first time rather worn samples of 
 the Yankee blue uniforms casting in relief rows of 
 glittering Federal buttons. Grand fire on the hearth 
 makes the room appear as light as the day. Indiscreet? 
 Not while trusty " pickets " are guarding every approach. 
 A scent and view of tempting edibles on the hearth made 
 us rather averse to lengthened preliminaries. "Aunt 
 Mary" took the hint, and soon the rustic table groaned 
 
76 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 with evidences of her sympathy for us and the cause we 
 represented. Sweet bacon, warm wheat-flour biscuits, 
 potatoes, and some homely delicacies that stood well 
 the severe tests we put upon them ; nor were we at all 
 abashed by the steadily gazing countenances surrounding 
 us the while. 
 
 Supper over, and a "council of war" proposed and 
 held ; maps and compass brought into requisition, greatly 
 astonishing our spectators. Anxious inquiries ; explana- 
 tions, in spite of which were uttered blank or indefinite 
 expressions indicative of inability to understand how the 
 Yankees had been able to map out so accurately on cloth 
 this immediate vicinity and the whole country, with its 
 roads, railroads, rivers, cities, and towns. Explanations 
 were insufficient to clear up the mystery. Determining 
 location twenty-four miles a little east of south from 
 Atlanta. Federal raids had caused the Confederates to 
 closely guard every mill and cross-road of importance in 
 the vicinity. The guards could unite in the defence of any 
 threatened point, and they also served to prevent sus- 
 pected stampedes of negroes to the Federal lines, Ne- 
 groes who had recently returned from the "front" re- 
 ported that the Federals were expected " in these parts 
 'fore long." The whites, however, professed an oppo- 
 site opinion. Pronounced decidedly perilous to proceed 
 northward urged to wait a few days in safety until 
 further news from our friends arrived. The proposition 
 
OF THE WAK. 77 
 
 seriously considered; L. votes "aye," strong. Basing 
 action upon the uncertainty of the situation at Atlanta 
 and the certainty of danger ahead, and upon the fact of 
 weariness, meaning exhaustion, and the liability of 
 falling into worse keeping, we concluded to remain en- 
 camped near by until possessed of further information. 
 The negroes clapped their hands with joy at our decision, 
 promising to render any assistance possible. 
 
 It was now after midnight. The question arose as to 
 where the " elephant guests " were to be concealed. We 
 desire no bed. The "straw-house" is settled upon as 
 our resting-place for the remainder of the night. The 
 straw-house was situated on the road, and formed con- 
 nection with the fence on both sides of it. Peyt and 
 ourselves worked with a will, and as the result a com- 
 fortable room was made ; and with the aid of rails and 
 planks, walls and ceiling of straw were constructed, all be- 
 low the surface, yet above the ground. The straw-house 
 was built of hewn logs, which were separated by spaces 
 varying from one-eighth to one-quarter of an inch. We 
 worked passages to the sides of the building through the 
 straw, and thus obtained both light and air. There was 
 also afforded an unobstructed view of the road, upon 
 which we frequently reviewed squads of Confederate 
 cavalry as they passed, sometimes six, sometimes four 
 or five, and at other times but two. As our place of 
 observation was only a few feet distant^ from them, we 
 
78 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 were able to closely inspect them from crown to foot. 
 Their expressions of countenance as well as of voice, 
 their equipments and arms, and even the color of their 
 hair and eyes, were readily noted as they passed unsus- 
 pectingly along. After numerous whispered speculations- 
 as to the situation and the future, two tired "tramps" 
 slept soundly and sweetly in the comfortable quarters of 
 straw until the dawn of 
 
 August 2. Road well travelled ; quite a military 
 highway. Squads of rebel cavalry pass look sleepy ; 
 must have been on picket all night. They have my ear- 
 nest sympathy "been there myself." Forage-wagons, 
 well guarded citizen horseman. Noon; "black ra- 
 vens" bring us "dinner," and fill our canteen afresh. 
 Awful hot; perspiration rolling off end of L.'s frontis- 
 piece dripping mortals. Evening's cool shadows; 
 summoned by faithful Peyt to supper dark. A few 
 trusty sable friends had been intrusted with the " tre- 
 mendous .secret," which accounted for the reverential 
 side-glances of strange colored faces toward the straw- 
 house during the day. 
 
 At "Aunt Maiy's" cabin again, with the usual precau- 
 tions of "pickets" guarding every path. What! why r 
 every sacrifice has been made to do us honor. Sweet 
 milk? what a luxury ! Fried chicken ? manna in the 
 desert ! A shade of sadness while contemplating that it 
 
OF THE WAR. 79 
 
 was Aunt Mary's old pet hen. If we had only known it in 
 advance, would have pleaded for her life ; but since it was 
 9, fait accompli without our knowledge or consent, objec- 
 tions are eminently out of place ; wouldn't restore the 
 poor old fowl, to die again, if we had the power. " Please 
 pass the chicken." Oh, flavor exquisite of ancient rec- 
 ollections ! Doesn't matter in the least that the recollec- 
 tions of the main subject-matter are more tender, it 
 was never sweeter. After gorging, we chatted pleasantly 
 until near midnight. We soon discovered that, though 
 ignorant, the negroes well understood the nature of the 
 attempt to destroj^ the Union, and the result of success 
 or defeat of the Federal arms so far as they were con- 
 cerned. What they knew, coupled with what they be- 
 lieved, made a Federal soldier almost an object of worship 
 with them. Retirement to the straw-house ; pilot ahead ; 
 pickets relieved ; sound sleep sweet rest. 
 
 August 3. More baggage or forage wagons cavalry ; 
 clanking sabres ; navy -revolvers. Who knows but that 
 some fine morning or night they'll take a fancy, to this 
 straw? Now, why didn't we think of that before? The 
 army is short of every thing, and at any time " Old Shag,'* 
 as the darkies humorously dubbed Mr. Smith, might be- 
 relieved of his straw. Wish we could get out of this. 
 The thoughts of possible demand for straw for hospital or 
 other purposes rendered us exceedingly uncomfortable; 
 then, to think of an ignominious recapture! Faithful 
 
80 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 Peyt and dinner (?) call it lunch, then. After noon 
 Mr. Smith's children came romping down the road, and 
 selected a spot adjoining the straw-house for childish play 
 and prattle lucky they can't climb up into the straw- 
 house. That light-haired, blue-eyed little girl knew not of 
 the admiring eyes peering at her between the logs of the 
 old straw-house, nor how near she came (the innocent little 
 creature) to a brace of horrid Yankees ! Evidently she 
 had been taught to hate "the enemy," though she could 
 not comprehend the meaning of the war, nor realize the 
 significance of the sounds of the great guns before At- 
 lanta. She had nothing to do with mighty principles rep- 
 resented by great armies and heavy artillery. But her 
 cherry lips could part, and the sweet voice of childhood 
 could sing, 
 
 " Old Lincoln and his hireling troops 
 Will never whip the South." 
 
 This seemed her favorite song, and often we heard her 
 sweet voice warbling the words. To-night was but a 
 repetition of last night. For the reasons indicated, we 
 concluded to occupy the straw-house only for sleeping 
 purposes, and to retire at dawn to the cool shades of 
 the neighboring woods back of the negro cabins. The 
 programme was executed safely. 
 
 August 4. We spent most of the day in cutting and 
 preparing limbs and saplings, and constructing a double 
 bower-house for our convenience and concealment. We 
 
OF THE WAR. 81 
 
 so ingeniously arranged dead limbs around it, that it 
 required very close examination to distinguish it from the 
 veritable brush-pile from which it was largely constructed. 
 The sounds of great guns distinctly heard booming almost 
 incessantly in the direction of Atlanta. [Sherman's long- 
 range guns were shelling the doomed city.] At inter- 
 vals we also heard rumblings as if of musketry, but it 
 couldn't have been at Atlanta probably some raiding 
 party nearer us. Accompanying the " music in the air," is 
 an unusual excitement. The roads are filled with the teams, 
 of frightened refugees, who, with families and effects,. 
 are seeking places of safety. " What does all this com- 
 motion mean ? ' ' The terror of the natives was necessarily 
 our joy cruel, perhaps, but we could not control the cir- 
 cumstances which so fixed the facts. Inquiries made 
 during the night failed to account for the agitation of the, 
 day. 
 
 August 5. Bower-house quite an improvement on? 
 straw. We began to grow courageous, fat, and restless 
 foraging expedition, resulting in gathering of luscious- 
 blackberries. At noon we were honored by the appear- 
 ance of Aunt Mary in proper person, laden with a bounti- 
 ful supply of warm corn bread and cow-peas. Calm, 
 beautiful day. Most of our time was employed in watch- 
 ing two little wrens, who heeded not the distinction 
 between the " blue and the gray," and who appeared to 
 
 6 
 
82 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 occasionally hesitate and wonder at the mysterious, heavy 
 sounds of war in the distance. At times they would 
 approach us, limb by limb, from above, until almost within 
 reach ; turning their little heads, first one side, then the 
 other, to ward 'us, peering at us with a suspicious, inquir- 
 ing gaze, their tiny black eyes scintillating in the sunlight. 
 They were apparently well pleased with our compliments 
 and flatteries. After thoroughly inspecting our "nest," 
 they busied themselves beautifying and completing their 
 own ; and all day long it was work and sing work and 
 sing. Perhaps there's no lesson to be learned from such 
 an observation perhaps superiority lies with the inferior 
 creature. To work and fret seems to be the peculiar 
 tendency of man. 
 
 August 6. Very early this morning we were awakened 
 by faithful Peyt with " Wake up, gemmen ! Do you hear 
 that noise? De devil is to pay dis mornin' ! " And sure 
 enough, the rapid peals of artillery, rapidly increasing to 
 a continuous roar, and just at daybreak, indicated that 
 something extraordinary or unexpected had occurred ; and 
 our expectations were not lessened by the fact that before 
 sunrise all firing had ceased, and silence became as omi- 
 nous ns was the thunder which preceded it. We anxiously 
 awaited tidings from the road and from the front, but 
 waited in vain, and finally concluded that there had been 
 some reason unknown to us why our guns should thunder 
 
OF THE WAR. 83 
 
 an extra morning salute to the enemy. We rambled 
 through the thick woods for much-needed exercise. 
 Visitors called upon us to-day several negroes (leaders) 
 from adjoining plantations, many of whom had come a 
 great distance to see live Yankees ; expressions of sym- 
 pathy and loyalty ; true friends. The colored delegation 
 silently depart, after gratifying their curiosity; wishing 
 us God-speed, and encouraging us to keep up our 
 " sperits. ' ' Later in the afternoon an old dog belonging to 
 some of the negroes, called " Old Buck," scented mystery 
 in the air, and slowly wound his way to our bower-house ; 
 and seeming to have solved the cause of the mysterious 
 movements of his master and friends, sensibly withdrew 
 as silently as they. 
 
 While ensconced in the woods in rear of Smith's plan- 
 tation, our main dependencies were she whom all called 
 "Aunt Mary," and her brother "Peyt." Aunt Mary is 
 medium in size, rather slender in figure, and black as the 
 night. Gentle and kind, and unable to do too much for 
 her guests, of whom she has voluntarily assumed the 
 especial care; jealous of the attentions of others; "will- 
 ing to work her hands off ; " an excellent cook. Her hus- 
 band is a slave on a neighboring plantation, and is permitted 
 to call on her semi-occasionally. Shrewd when occasion 
 calls for it ; affectionate very fond of her children ; says 
 she " thinks as much of us as if we were her own chile ; " 
 does the milking for her master's family knows how to 
 
S4: A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 obtain enough milk for us, and yet leave the usual quan- 
 tity for the family ; continually mindful of our interests ; 
 generous and sensible. "Peyt," "own brother to Aunt 
 Mary," is medium size, stout; untiring in his efforts to 
 please and cheer us swears by what we say; shrewd, 
 agile, and expert with a rock can knock a hog down 
 with a rock, in the dark, at an incredible distance, and 
 cut its throat before it recovers likes a big secret, and 
 also gazes wistfully at my watch seems slightly jealous 
 of our civilities to other visiting field-hands entertains 
 us by relating his wonderful escapes from snakes and 
 blood-hounds knows all about fishes bold and kind, 
 attentive and true. 
 
 Our bower-house was a model in its style, and so con- 
 structed as to present to every approach the appearance 
 of a veritable brush-heap; the entrance was a winding 
 approach, to carry out the deception. But alas! with 
 all of our nicety of calculation we had failed to render 
 it storm-proof, as was demonstrated this very night. 
 Just at the close of day, huge dark clouds obscured 
 the sunlight, and soon after, the storm burst upon us in 
 sudden fury ! Rain fell in torrents ; the wind howled 
 fearfully through the forest, and even the aged oaks bent 
 their heads to the fury of the gale. Our slender "for- 
 tifications" were speedily swept away, and strewn in 
 shapeless debris about the woods. We were summarily 
 "wet to the buff," and driven through the deluge to 
 
OF THE WAR. 85 
 
 the rear door of Aunt Mary's protecting hut. She was 
 expecting us, and, as we approached, her hospitable door 
 opened to welcome us. Drenched ; huge hearth-fire ; 
 wringing out drying. A bit of news is related to us 
 during the process. A considerable body of Confederate 
 troops encamped near us to-day. Confederate soldiers 
 visited Smith's plantation, and desired to purchase chick- 
 ens, etc. Sagacious Aunt Mary inquired about particulars, 
 and ascertained that they would "move on" to-night. 
 Their presence caused some excitement and extra pre- 
 cautions on our part. Near midnight the question arose, 
 < ' Where shall we sleep ? " In the woods ? dripping wet. 
 In the straw-house? particularly unsafe. Aunt Mary 
 declared we should not sleep uncomfortable again, so 
 long as she had quilts in her cabin. She furnished us 
 with sufficient bedding, and we constructed a pallet on 
 the floor of the loft of the cabin, and sweetly slept until 
 the dawn of 
 
 August 7. We were awakened by the voice of our 
 hostess, calling in a loud whisper from below, " Hi, hi! 
 Look out on de road." We peeped through apertures, 
 and there they were! We counted thirty-five "butter- 
 nuts," well mounted and armed, passing leisurely along 
 the road eastwardly toward the Confederate right flank 
 not an unusual occurrence, and need not be accounted 
 for. Around us are evidences of the severity of last 
 
86 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 evening's storm, but "Old Sol" shines out this morning as 
 if in surprise at the wrecks of the past night. Breakfast ; 
 retreat to the woods ; demolished habitation. How much 
 skill and labor are required to reinstate our " residence " in 
 our affections ! Let's see ; if our calculations are correct, 
 this day must be Sunday beautiful, clear, and calm. 
 Listen ! no sounds save the sweet warbling of feathered 
 friends and the tinkling bells on peaceful, distant pas- 
 tures. Friends home! How many are hoping and fear- 
 ing on our account to-day? How much or how little do 
 they know concerning us? Do the}' think us alive, or 
 dead? We are indeed lost to each other; hope alone 
 encourages. Thoughts of church, of people, of hymns, 
 of familiar scenery, of childhood's scenes and events. 
 Supreme luxury afforded by reading from leaves of old 
 books found in the loft where we " roosted" last night. 
 Here comes Aunt Mary and attendants, laden with lux- 
 uries for our enjoyment. Chicken-pie ! ye gods, think 
 of that ! fried corn, and excellent corn bread a repast 
 for a king. Refreshments; thanks. Sunset flood of 
 golden light streaming through the foliage exquisite 
 beauty ; all nature seems bathing 
 
 " In the golden lightning 
 Of the sunken sun." 
 
 August 8. Ennui spirit for adventure nerve for 
 encounter; impatience. Peyt suggests that writer "go 
 
OF THE WAR. 87 
 
 a-fishing " agreed ; the writer dons Peyt's old hat and old 
 gray coat, and provided with hook and line, under Peyt's 
 guidance, was soon at " Cotton Indian Creek." Peyt re- 
 turned, leaving the writer patiently fishing patience reaps 
 reward ; net result, four small catfish and one mammoth 
 ee l the latter seriously objected to capture. After 
 being fairly landed, he broke the hook and made for the 
 water. The writer seized the prize, and a closely con- 
 tested struggle ensued. Slipping from one grasp to 
 another, the "enemy" gained the water' sedge. Hands, 
 boots, fish-line, and pole were brought into requisition, 
 and the monster was rethrown upon the bank and forced 
 to submit to "unconditional surrender; " it was demon- 
 strated, however, that victory is not always to the "slip- 
 pery ' ' glory enough for the first excursion. The useful 
 remnants of the struggle were gathered with the "van- 
 quished foe," and, covered with the glory and " slime" 
 of conflict, the writer beat a safe retreat to his " head- 
 quarters." Eel and catfish for the closing meal of the 
 day. 
 
 August 9. Fishing is now in vogue ; both L. and the 
 writer fish in the creek to-day. We caught no fish, but 
 were ourselves caught in a heavy shower of rain again 
 "wet to the buff;" return; welcome drying-out; 
 slept soundly on the forge of the blacksmith-shop near 
 by. Peyt appears with the daylight of 
 
SB A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 August 10, Warning us that "de morniu's yere." 
 L. and the writer again venture fishing Confederate fish 
 seem to scorn our efforts ; we return at mid-day, fishless 
 and fish-hookless. Aunt Mary's negro boy Wash awaited 
 us, with dinner, and Aunt Mary's regrets that it was the 
 best she had. Wash is about fifteen, and seems never so 
 happy as when he can secure our attention to listen to his 
 knowledge concerning, and experiences with, "snakes." 
 He seems to think that he has " rights," in the absence of 
 the old folks, which we are bound to respect, and give him a 
 patient hearing. We slightly encourage him, and while we 
 eat we listen attentively to the boy's dissertation on land 
 and water moccasins and his hair-breadth escapes from their 
 poisonous fangs. Wash eyes us intently the while, evi- 
 dently eager to detect the slightest indication of incre- 
 dulity ; but we are all ears and wonderment ! Not even 
 the most extravagant stretch can cause even a knowing 
 look to pass between us, and Wash retires, manifestly 
 convinced that we are solemnly impressed with his hero- 
 ism. Usual evening meeting and greeting. A night's 
 rest in the friendly deserted blacksmith-shop broken, 
 however, by the bellowing great guns in the north. Our 
 guns were serenading Atlanta all night. Sherman is be- 
 fore that doomed city, by night as well as by day. 
 Maybe something unusual has happened to cause the un- 
 usual night cannonade. The first indications of daylight 
 brought the reliable Peyt to our " bed," to warn us to 
 retreat early to a place of safety. 
 
OF THE WAR. 89 
 
 August 11. Retreat to the bower in the woods. The 
 path through the woods was well commanded from our 
 innocent-looking "brush-pile," and while carelessly look- 
 ing in that direction, the writer saw approaching a white 
 man in Confederate uniform ! Flat ! flat on tbe ground 
 eyes fixed on the approaching soldier. He carelessly ad- 
 vances is now abreast notices nothing breathless 
 we ; he's past tally one for the "brush-pile " he carries 
 a fish-pole and basket, and is bound for the creek our 
 fishing is over. "Who could that be?" It must be he 
 whom the negroes speak of as "Corporal Sid," Mr. 
 Smith's son, home on furlough from the front. How pale 
 and ghastly he looked furlough well granted. We must 
 keep "in-doors" and be all eyes and ears until his re- 
 turn disappointed he returned another way. Aunt 
 Mary appeared with eels for supper. "Who caught 
 them ?' ' "Corporal Sid, to-day. ' ' The mystery explained ; 
 conjectures correct. " I reckoned it would be so queer 
 for you 'uns to be a-eaten fish cotched by Corporal Sid," 
 said Aunt Mary, with a merry laugh good joke. 
 Demonstrated that catching by blue or gray does not 
 alter the flavor of eels 'Strictly non-partisan neutral 
 and impartial, yet slippery and unreliable squirms like a 
 politician. And now, Corporal Sid, if the statute of 
 limitations has not barred your claim, charge us for 
 "fried eels." 
 
 We are made to feel that we are indeed guests, by 
 
90 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 being informed that a grand jubilee is to be held to-night 
 in our honor the only entertainment possible. Early 
 evening guests silently gather. Owing to the presence 
 of two negroes who are ignorant of our presence, and who 
 are not known to be trustworthy, and who have ' ' big 
 mouths" (talk too much), we conclude to secretly ob- 
 serve the " performance," concealed in a patch of sugar- 
 corn good view bonfire all in their best mouth 
 music fantastic motions profuse perspiration earn- 
 estness interest carried away joy unconfined and 
 beyond control general excitement; every muscle in 
 action, young and old " glory ! glory ! " . Genuine, glo- 
 rious jubilee no counterfeit of the stage can equal or 
 truly depict this. This is not for the enjoyment of audi- 
 ences, but for the participants only. Therein is the main 
 difference between the genuine and the imitation. The 
 genuine enjoyment evidenced by motions, sounds, songs, 
 and features cannot be successfully feigned rare treat ; 
 thanks for the honor to our trusty friends a secret 
 and silent " good-night." 
 
 We slept soundly away into the night, when the writer 
 was awakened by L.'s elbow vigorously applied to his 
 side, with " Just listen at that ! " " At what? " asked the 
 writer, half rising. tk Listen," said L., while the air 
 seemed filled with the dull, heavy sounds of Sherman's 
 artillery ! We listened and conjectured. Was it a night 
 attack? Was Sherman or Hood attacking? How we 
 
OP THE WAR. 91 
 
 yearn for a sight of the blue-coats. Listen ! the distant 
 thunder of heavy guns midnight's slumbers broken by 
 dreaded rumblings of war ; but the cannon's echo, that 
 awakens, grows again familiar and lulls to sleep. Break 
 of day. 
 
 August 12. Timely calling, and retreat to the woods? 
 Cloudy again, 
 
 "It seems like yesterday come back 
 With its old things, and not to-day." 
 
 Armed with poles, hooks, and lines, and being assured 
 of Corporal Sid's confining illness, we determined again to 
 try our luck fishing, and cautiously repaired to the creek. 
 We had been at the creek but a short time when Peyt, like 
 a grim, dark spectre, suddenly emerged from the thick 
 foliage, and with trembling voice and protruding eyeballs 
 imparted the information that the Confederate cavalry 
 had just notified Mr. Smith (his master) that the Yankees 
 would be upon him to-day ! Great excitement prevailed ; 
 valuables were being speedily concealed whites trem- 
 bling with fear negroes wild with ill-concealed delight 
 valuables will be concealed in the woods, and ''brush- 
 piles ' ' invite patronage unsafe and imprudent to return 
 to our retreat ; we remain here ; Peyt to proceed to the 
 "front" (plantation), and apprise us of an} 7 change in 
 present status agreed congratulations at prospect of 
 soon being "captured" by the blue-coats! Premature 
 
92 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 rejoicing the day flies, the status remains unchanged. 
 The evening comes, and disappointment's mist surrounds 
 us ; at dark we return to our bower, spend the evening in 
 allaying excitement and enjoining caution, and sleep in 
 the woods till the dawn of 
 
 Saturday, August 13. We are informed that Satur- 
 days are days generally selected by old men and boys for 
 fishing. Accordingly, we abandon the idea of fishing to- 
 day, and quietly remain " at home." We are also apprised 
 of reasons for extra precautions. Encamped in the woods 
 near us is the family of a refugee named Darby. In 
 fleeing from the Yankees, he brought, with other personal 
 property, his slaves, among them three boys (male slaves 
 are all "boys"). The boys have failed to report at 
 the camp, and are rated as runaways. The "young 
 bloods" of this community the "stay-at-homes" 
 have organizations for the purpose of keeping the negroes 
 in subjection, and of rendering mutual assistance in re- 
 ducing to the possession of the master strayed "personal 
 property." These gentlemen are styled by the negroes 
 44 patrollers," from the fact that they act as a patrol- 
 guard from plantation to plantation, and generally at 
 night. Objects of terror to the negroes strange stories 
 of useless violence and brutality sometimes masked. 
 We are earnestly warned that they will probably scour 
 the woods for runaways to-night, and perhaps search the 
 
OF THE WAR. 93 
 
 cabins frequent occurrence ; dilemma council of war ; 
 plan : let there be a jubilee, to invite the attention of the 
 patrollers from the woods to the cabins we know not in 
 which direction lies safety. Night our position taken in 
 a thin patch of sugar-corn near the scene of the jubilee, 
 to see and not be seen. The jubilee ; sounds of revelry 
 other suspicious sounds in the edges of the woods all 
 ears to the rear cracking of dry limbs stealthy foot- 
 falls forms appear; outlines just visible through the 
 darkness now we see, crouching and gliding toward the 
 scene of merriment, three human forms now, with de- 
 moniac yells, they charge into the crowd of happy 
 negroes. The " boys," or " bucks," scatter like chaff be- 
 fore the wind, amid cries of 4 4 Halt ! halt ! " i ' Shoot him ! 
 shoot him! " etc. Flat on the ground we, twenty feet 
 distant, and silent and motionless as fallen statues the 
 women alone remained, and mutely received the oaths and 
 curses lavishly launched at their race in general, and at 
 the runaways in particular. A few "bucks " were clubbed 
 in the melee, but the abuse of the women was only verbal. 
 "Where was Mr. Smith, the master of the plantation ?' * 
 The answer we obtained was that the "right of search,'' 
 with its concomitant brutalities, was a sort of common 
 courtesy extended for mutual protection of kindred inter- 
 ests. The runaways were at the jubilee, but were contin- 
 ually on the qui vive, and off like the wind at the first 
 suspicious sound. The patrollers hold a hurried consul- 
 
94 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 tation, and depart; we cautiously retreat toward the 
 bower-house in the woods ; we suddenly came upon a 
 f ancily attired darkey, a stranger, who, upon our approach, 
 bounded off through the woods like a frightened deer ! 
 
 Faithful Peyt cautiously overtakes and informs us that 
 the patrollers were "Mr. Darby and two young gem- 
 men" (stay-at-homes) that the danger is now passed. 
 We proceed cautiously by starlight toward the bower; 
 approach it suddenly we discover, lying behind a fallen 
 tree, three human forms, evidently awaiting our approach. 
 We stood as if petrified! Retreat? Impossible! Now 
 seemed a revelation of the truth the plan and object 
 was to trap us, not the negroes. There lay the three 
 armed trappers with all of our pains, that the end 
 should come to this trapped at last ! At last the forms 
 move heads are elevated. Will they fire without a word ? 
 Will they demand our surrender? Delay gives hope. 
 What if their faces are black ? Three ominous number ; 
 yet no sound, but we feel their gaze fixed on us recur- 
 ring question: "Black or white?" Impulse to speak, 
 but one step nearer, and heads are suddenly thrown up, 
 and we meet the curious gaze of three black faces ! Upon 
 the color of those features depended at least our safety, 
 perhaps our lives. But the mystery is yet unsolved: 
 three strangers I We hail, confer, congratulate Darby's 
 runaways ; more terrified than we they had heard of us 
 through Peyt. It did not take much argument to con- 
 
OF THE WAR. 95 
 
 vince these " boys " that our safety required their imme- 
 diate return to their master. They promised faithfully to 
 do so on the morrow secrecy enjoined and promised 
 departure. We reached the bower in rather a fretted state 
 of mind, but sleep remained a stranger to us until near the 
 dawn of 
 
 August 14. Sunday again. "All quiet along the 
 lines." One of our black "scouts" brings information 
 that the three ' ' patrollers ' ' held a conference this morn- 
 ing on the road near the cabins ; this information set us 
 thinking. Have the runaways returned ? What if blood- 
 hounds should be brought into requisition? "Return, O 
 prodigals, return !" Grave suspicions can it be possible 
 that we have been discovered or betrayed? Are the 
 "patrollers" after white game, instead of black? Un- 
 comfortable suggestions. Toward evening, through an 
 abundance of caution, Aunt Mary brought us our "din- 
 ner and supper together." All is subdued excitement on 
 the plantation she cautiously winds her way back to her 
 cabin. Dark we approach the cabin very cautiously, 
 but are met and warned by a friendly " scout" that the 
 three patrollers of the evening before are at this mo- 
 ment in Aunt Mary's cabin! Why is this? Suspicions 
 strengthened white game we have been betrayed or 
 discovered military necessity to hear subject of conver- 
 sation writer nears the cabin and listens. Aunt Mary is 
 
96 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 catching a severe lecture on the general behavior of ne- 
 groes nothing more suspicions weakened ; * ' scout ' * 
 remains to watch and report movements of the dreaded 
 trio, and we retreat to the bower, and each alternately 
 watches and rests, not to say sleep. Grave apprehensions 
 ' and well-founded anxieties are not conducive to healthy 
 slumber. 
 
 August 15. Fishing splendid mess from somebody's 
 fish-basket or trap. Rest rendered sweeter by informa- 
 tion that Darby's " boys " have returned to him. 
 
 August 16. Fish-basket empty; L. suggests that the 
 fish know that the Yankees set the trap. Oh, for a min- 
 iature Confederate flag as a decoy ! Our ears are regaled 
 by sudden bursts of artillery-fire directly westward ! [It 
 was Gen. Kilpatrick's cavalry raiding at Lovejoy's Station, 
 on the Atlanta and Macon Railroad.] 
 
 August 17. Fishing, but fishless. At the cabin at 
 dusk ; precaution taken to post, from seventy to eighty 
 yards from the cabin, on every approach, negro urchins, 
 while little negro girls hovered around the cabin to catch 
 and convey to us the first alarm trusty, watchful pickets. 
 We had just seated ourselves at " supper," when in came 
 the little picket that had been stationed at the road-fence, 
 or gate, and excitedly informed us that " de patrollers "" 
 
OF THE WAIl. 97 
 
 were silently sneaking up toward the path along the fence 
 on the road ! We silently and cautiously retreat to the 
 woods conference. What could this mean? Darby's 
 boys returned, and the " patrollers " still out! Have 
 Darby's boys betrayed us to shield themselves? Bower- 
 house untenable utmost caution guards our every 
 movement we select a position distant from the bower 
 retreat, yet commanding it, and at least one pair of eyes 
 bore upon it through the dim starlight of the long night. 
 No approach, no report, no development puzzling 
 anxiety. 
 
 August 18. We learn that the "patrollers" quietly 
 inspected the cabins and departed, speechless. Appre- 
 hensions growing. Our plan is utmost caution, and await- 
 ing developments. Fishing alone. To doff the blue and 
 don the gray will make a bolder fisherman. Done ! 
 Peyt's old gray coat accepted and worn. At the creek. 
 Discovery a fish-pole rises and falls over the stream a 
 short distance above : the holder screened in the thick 
 foliage which lines the creek curiosity to see this en- 
 croaching fisherman. His pole is withdrawn, and sup- 
 posing the holder will pass down on the opposite side of 
 the stream, the writer selects a concealed position and 
 anxiously awaits the ' ' passing in review. ' ' Sharp crack 
 of a limb behind the writer turns, and there stands the 
 awaited personage, accompanied by a boy and a large 
 
 7 
 
98 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 dog, all steadily gazing at the writer. Fairty caught! 
 They had crossed the creek, and descended on the wrong 
 side. Fifty feet between us to speak would encourage 
 accent to belie the gray coat to advance, folly to run 
 would betray. Hardly knowing what to do, the writer 
 calmly put his hands in his pockets, and walked off in 
 rather a careless manner, whistling the "Bonnie Blue 
 Flag," almost unconsciously turning to witness the 
 effect of the movement. There stood the trio, with gaze 
 still fixed on the whistler. The man a heavy, thick-set,, 
 corpulent, red-faced gent now handed the boy his pole, 
 and deliberately rolled up his shirt-sleeves (he was coat- 
 less). What does he mean by that? He must be as- 
 frightened as the writer! Does he mean "fight?" 
 " Can't see it there is no occasion for personal encoun- 
 ter." Whistling and retreat continue. Direction of re- 
 treat is away from the bower, but as soon as the foliage 
 concealed the writer's form, he circled around and 
 reached his goal unobserved. Extra vigilance, however, 
 was maintained throughout the night, on account of the 
 writer's experience at the creek. 
 
 After dark, Peyt appeared and induced the writer to 
 accompany him on a raid to a plantation some two miles 
 distant object, to u forage on the enemy." Agreed. 
 The silent night-march ; the ripe watermelon patch 
 luscious ; grand peach-orchard. After eating to our entire 
 satisfaction, we filled ready pillow-slips for the benefit of 
 
OF THE WAR. 99" 
 
 "the loved ones at home." En route homeward, we 
 rested under a friendly oak which graced the centre of a 
 large pasture, and being exhausted by internal and ex- 
 ternal burdens, we were soon in deep slumber. When 
 we awoke, we were at first surprised to view the numer- 
 ous pairs of glistening eyes surrounding us. The pets of 
 the pasture had discovered us, and horses and mules vied 
 with each other in making near approaches to the objects 
 of their curiosity. At a given signal, we suddenly arose, 
 and the panic that ensued created a realization of our 
 indiscretion. Repetitions of the sport developed that 
 quadrupeds and bipeds alike enjoy fun. Arise! Take 
 burdens! March! Shortly after midnight we arrive at 
 the only place we can call " home." 
 
 August 19. Fishing excursions unpopular; spent 
 most of the day recovering from the effort of last night. 
 At night the western sky seemed ablaze ! We guess the 
 Yankees must be at work near Jonesboro, only twelve 
 miles distant. Pursuant to arrangement of Peyt, a 
 strange negro, named "Jim," presented himself to us as 
 a pilot to conduct my companion, L., to the Federal lines. 
 With or without cause, and unknown to L., both Peyt 
 and Aunt Mary had expressed themselves as unwilling to 
 risk themselves further on L.'s account. Rightfully or 
 wrongfully, they accused him of many acts of indiscre- 
 tion, which created alarm lest he should be discovered 
 
100 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 and they severely dealt with. One offence was his care- 
 less approach to the cabin by daylight, which caused some 
 questions to be asked by some of Mr. Smith's family, who 
 saw him. In addition to this, L. seemed rather diffident, 
 and took no pains to please or instruct our hosts ; and 
 the original interest which they took in him wearing away, 
 without replacement, seemed to have its effect ; nor could 
 they accept the excuse of youth for acts of indiscretion 
 imperilling their own safety. Personally, the writer 
 makes not a single complaint against L. The negroes 
 had simply lost confidence in him, which they could not 
 regain, and argument seemed powerless to restore it. L. 
 was persuaded to go, however, and Jim and L. started 
 together for the Federal lines. Expectations of the 
 Federal advance, and continued illness of the writer, 
 permitted the separation. "Farewell, L., and may you 
 get through safely. Who gets through first, must bear 
 the messages of the other. Good-bye." L. had scarcely 
 got beyond hailing-distance, when the writer regretted 
 that he had not accompanied him lonely. The writer 
 selected new quarters to sleep : Uncle Davie's shoe-shop, 
 in rear of the cabins. > 
 
 August 20. Retreat to the old bower at daylight. 
 Shortly after, great excitement reigns. "The Yankees 
 are coming! the Yankees are coming!" is the report. 
 Upon urgent appeal, the writer quickly glided into Aunt 
 
OF THE WAR. 101 
 
 Mary's cabin, and up into the loft, where through an 
 aperture lie could watch the road. Patiently watching 
 no Yankees. While thus engaged, one of the fair resi- 
 dents of the mansion, or "big house," came to Aunt 
 Maiy's cabin and deposited with her a bundle of letters 
 and photographs for safe-keeping, in the common belief 
 that the Federals never searched negroes. This, the writer 
 learned, was a widow lady, named Mrs. Stand!. While 
 visiting the cabin she related to Aunt Mary a "queer 
 dream," to which the writer listened attentively. It 
 was an adventure with a "Federal captain" (one bar 
 beyond my rank). The charming widow sat directly 
 beneath the writer, on Aunt Mary's bed, and by peering 
 through the open flooring, a fair " bird's-eye view" was 
 obtained. The fair lady suddenly threw herself back 
 upon the bed and gazed directly upward ! It seemed that 
 our glances met instantly ! To move would certainly 
 attract her attention. The lady dreamily inspected the 
 board ceiling above her, and the writer remained a fixed 
 prisoner until relieved by the presence of mind of Aunt 
 Mary, who, feigning to desire some article of bed-cloth- 
 ing, forced the lady to a sitting posture. Shortly after, 
 she returned as she came. The special deposit of photo- 
 graphs and love-letters were handed to the writer. The 
 letters were from a lieutenant in the Confederate army, 
 and their contents are not "contraband of war." 
 Rather late in the afternoon there were discovered on 
 
102 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 the road rebel pickets, mounted, passing eastwardly, stat- 
 ing to Mr. Smith that they had been "driven in by the 
 Yankees, who were immediately behind and coming on." 
 Then followed a scene of hurried confusion ! Mr. Smith 
 and his son, Corporal Sid, with the field-hands and family 
 valuables, beat a hasty retreat to a neighboring swamp. 
 The trembling ladies and children were left in the house 
 to meet the foe. Aunt Mary had in her wash-tub all the 
 underclothes the writer possessed. They were speedily 
 extracted therefrom, hastily wrung and passed up, and, 
 in the emergency, pulled on wet. The negroes had 
 been told to "run for their lives;" but there was an 
 influence the whites could not understand, which caused 
 them to instinctively cluster around the cabin of Aunt 
 Mary, calmly awaiting the appearance of the blue-coats. 
 Anxious eyes were fixed steadily on the road over which 
 the Confederate pickets had just been driven, and the 
 watch was kept long and eagerly. No dust no appear- 
 ance night drawing near impatience. Suddenly the 
 booming of cannon is heard ; direction south of west ; 
 not th'ree miles away ! As we suspected, the column had 
 left our road only three miles west of us, and was now 
 proceeding to McDonough, Georgia, which was three 
 miles southward. The Yankees are shelling the rebel 
 pickets that dispute the passage to the town the dis- 
 pute is short, and the Federal raiders pass through the 
 town, and return to the Federal lines at Covington, 
 
OF THE WAR. 103 
 
 Georgia, thus completing a circuit around us, and within 
 three miles of lending us joy supreme! Bitter disap- 
 pointment ; bleeding hopes blank despondency ! In the 
 slighest hope that perhaps a few blue-coats might ramble 
 to this plantation for food or forage, the writer permitted 
 his spirits to droop in Aunt Mary's loft all night. 
 
 August 21. The atmosphere is thick with rumors, 
 but no Yankees appear. At the bower in the woods ; 
 lonesome no reports ; no consolation alone. At night, 
 " Jim," who had started for our lines with L., returned 
 with bitter complaints that L. was "clumsy" and indis- 
 creet. He reported that, on the first day out, L. insisted 
 on raiding a melon-patch by daylight, against J.'s protest 
 and warning, and was seen by the owner of the planta- 
 tion, Mr. Gleaton. From some of Gleaton's negroes 
 Jim learned that Gleaton had reported the circumstance 
 of a man in blue in his melon-patch, to the Confeder- 
 ate cavalry! Howbeit, Jim refused to accompany L. 
 further, turned him over to other friendly negroes, and 
 returned, and begged leave to guide the writer to the 
 Federal lines. This was agreed to, on condition that 
 Jim should proceed to plantations on the line of the 
 recent raid, and gather all the information possible 
 concerning the raiders, and the status at Atlanta, and 
 return ; while the writer determined to interview Mr. 
 Smith as to what he knew, from reports of the Confed- 
 
104: A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 erate cavalry who had daily passed his door. With this 
 understanding, Jim departed. The writer conferred with 
 Peyt and Aunt Mary, and astounded both by declaring, 
 "I am going to talk with Mr. Smith and his family this 
 night. ' ' In vain were the warnings of danger and deceit ; 
 but upon solemn assurances that dangerous visiting rela- 
 tives were in the house, the interview was postponed one 
 day. The writer had been well informed that Mr. Smith 
 was a strong Southern man, imbued with strong preju- 
 dices against any thing blue ; had a son in the Confed- 
 erate army, who is now at home, and the whole family 
 enthusiastic in the Southern cause ; but by mere accident 
 he also obtained information of the fact that Mr. Smith 
 was a prominent member of a fraternity which is world- 
 wide in extent, and which has survived all wars and civil 
 strife, and by means of which "enemies" meet as 
 "brothers." On the fly-leaf of an old book a note was 
 written to Mr. Smith apprising him of the presence of a 
 Federal officer, and claiming also to be a brother in dis- 
 tress, and desiring information regarding his friends, and 
 attaching the mystic sign of the order. Every thing now 
 awaited 
 
 August 23. As the writer was about to enter the 
 bower-retreat, the rustling of leaves within revealed the 
 presence of a prior occupant in the shape of a huge 
 black-snake, who seemed willing to contest his right of 
 
OF THE WAR. 105 
 
 entry. A well-directed blow at the head of the black 
 intruder, with the hickory cane the writer always carried, 
 but which his snakeship artfully dodged, caused him to 
 glide through the rustic confines of the bower and rapidly 
 away through the shrubbery. Evening the plan was 
 announced for the attempt on the " big house " to-night. 
 The house-dog to be secured, and retained in one of the 
 cabins pickets selected to watch the road, and to cast a 
 pebble against the window should cavalry halt at the gate. 
 The slave "Charlie'* was selected to be hailed by the 
 writer on the road and deliver the note to Mr. Smith. 
 This programme was executed, and when Charlie rapped at 
 the front-door, the writer had taken a position near by, 
 where he could hear the conversation within through the 
 open window. Charlie told his story of being hailed on 
 the road by a stranger and requested to deliver the note 
 to his master and await an answer. Charlie was ordered 
 to wait. The door was closed, and one of the ladies 
 read the note aloud. Corporal Sid, who had retired, was 
 aroused, and a long and wordy conference followed, in 
 hushed accents. A note was returned to Charlie, who 
 was informed that the "stranger" who had hailed him 
 was a Yankee! Charlie feigned great surprise, and 
 returned, with seeming reluctance, with the answer. The 
 substance of the answer was: "Although an enemy, yet, 
 if you are what you profess to be, you will not be harmed 
 at my house. My son is home sick from the Confederate 
 
106 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 army ; but you can meet in peace at my house, even if 
 you cannot elsewhere." Signed, "Smith." 
 
 Aunt Mary and Peyt were assured that, whatever hap- 
 pened, nothing should compromise or implicate them. 
 Charlie guided me to the front gate, where Mr. Smith 
 stood to receive me. Greeting ; hand-shaking ; mysterious 
 questions, promptly answered expressions of satisfac- 
 tion invitation to c ' come in ' ' accepted entree. There 
 sat in waiting three ladies Mrs. Stancil was immediately 
 recognized as one. Mr. Smith politely introduced the 
 writer as a " Federal officer ' ' to his ladies and to his son 
 Sidney. They had never before seen a " Federal," nor a 
 Federal uniform, and both seemed objects of great curi- 
 osity but all seemed also to realize that before them 
 stood the representative of a hated idea! The writer's 
 first remark, after raising his fatigue cap, was, " You see, 
 ladies, that we do not wear horns ; " but manifestly they 
 were in no humorous mood. 
 
 Mr. Smith engaged the writer in friendly conversation 
 about lodges, the war, armies, Atlanta, Sherman, Hood, 
 etc., growing rather vehement, and exclaiming, "I tell 
 you, sir, the Yankees can never take Atlanta never!" 
 The writer replied, " Well, we differ there. If you knew 
 the character of our Western army and its commander, you 
 would never expect to see them go backwards. Atlanta 
 must fall, sir." The old gentleman simply bit his lip, as 
 if half believing it. The ladies, now becoming more 
 
OF THE WAR. 107 
 
 social, ventured to ask the writer numerous questions, 
 until the conversation became quite general, changing 
 into a brisk chat between the heroine of the cabin, Mrs. 
 Stancil, and the writer, to which the others seemed con- 
 tent to listen. How the mention of a circumstance would 
 cause her surprise ! how the mention of a name would 
 bring her to her feet ! ' ' Have you many friends in the 
 rebel Confederate army, Mrs. Stancil?" " A few," 
 she responded. " And none in our army?" "None," 
 was the reply. 
 
 The writer now turned his attention to the other object' 
 of secret admiration, the "Corporal Sid." Gray uni- 
 form brass buttons ; corporal's chevrons sullen fea- 
 tures arms folded standing looks upon the present 
 scene as though he entertained grave doubts as to its 
 propriety reluctant assent compromise - of - dignity 
 air ; entertaining a Yankee probably jealous of writer's 
 attention to others ; Confederate military importance 
 slighted gray snubbed by the blue in its own stronghold. 
 The corporal closely scans the uniform of the writer 
 dark blue eagle buttons staff shoulder-straps well- 
 worn staff trimmings sky-blue welts on outer seam of 
 pants ; worse for wear ; military boots within them all 
 an unrestrained enemy! We will raise no question of 
 rank, but if there is to be one, since it can avail noth- 
 ing and effect nothing, let it be conceded that, under 
 the circumstances, chevrons on gray outrank straps on 
 
108 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 blue. Now to force an " engagement " with the enemy in 
 hostile uniform. " Sorry you are so sick, sir, and unable 
 to participate in the fun at the front." "Yaas, sorry 
 too," was the response. Slowly and cautiously the con- 
 versation continued answers, for the most part, in 
 monosyllables. Now the corporal warms to the conver- 
 sation, and ventures to explain the difference between 
 "on* armee an' you' armee " by the presence in the lat- 
 ter of a great foreign element. The writer ventured the 
 remark that that fact possibly enured to the credit of 
 the foreigners, and to the discredit of natives opposing 
 them. (Wonder if he saw the point?) Guard against 
 personalities remember the situation no place to dis- 
 cuss war issues danger can appear at the wave of a 
 hand! 
 
 Now Mr. Smith reenters from the dining-room, and 
 politely said to the writer, "I have ordered supper for 
 you, and it is all ready, sir; will you step out?" A 
 flash of suspicion unfounded, perhaps, but still enter- 
 tained no reason for it, but nevertheless felt super- 
 abundance of caution, perhaps. Howbeit, it moved the 
 lips to say, "Had I known of the preparation, I should 
 have stopped it ; having partaken heartily before I came, 
 I must ask you to accept my thanks, and excuse me." 
 " If you insist upon it," said Mr. Smith. u And now it is 
 so late, you had better remain with us the balance of the 
 night." Thoughts. Was the bed to accomplish what 
 
OF THE WAR. 109 
 
 the table could not? Where is the element of trust? 
 Why abuse kindness without reason ? faithful guards are 
 on duty, why decline? u I am so weary, sir, and worn, 
 that I accept your kindness for the remainder of the 
 night." A candle a pleasant good-night to all. Mr. 
 Smith conducts the writer to bed-chamber on first floor 
 the nearer to my "guards" I sleep, the better I shall 
 feel. Will they understand this movement? " Good- 
 night, stranger." " Good-night, sir; " and the door was 
 closed and locked. Comfortable, soft bed. Who says that 
 one enured to hardships cannot rest on feathers, lies not 
 on feathers, but under a mistake. 
 
 " Weariness can snore upon the flint." 
 
 Then why not upon the feathers? Mosquitoes reason 
 enough; slumbers somewhat disturbed by winged sere- 
 naders assassins of the night; also by troublesome 
 mental inquiries. What if Confederate cavalry stop for 
 information, or breakfast? What if my host send infor- 
 mation to them ? By whom ? By a slave ? They are all 
 enlisted in my behalf rest in the consciousness that 
 "pickets" are faithful and true, and that any evil at- 
 tempt, or presence of danger, will be promptly communi- 
 cated by the pebble against the pane slumber. It may 
 at first blush seem questionable conduct in accepting the 
 hospitality of one whose house was guarded by his own 
 slaves, and the host's family under suspicion, but a close 
 analysis of the situation reveals the affair in its true light. 
 
110 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 The hospitality, beyond a mere visit, was not anticipated. 
 Mr. Smith was bound only to the extent of his note, and 
 seemed careful in conversation not to commit himself 
 further. In it the writer is recognized as " an enemy; " 
 but on account of being also a " brother," " will not be- 
 harmed at my house." No friendship expressed, no pro- 
 tection, no aid offered, no information given ; Mr. Smith 
 might remain true to his word, and the writer be betrayed 
 and seized immediately upon leaving the house ; and as 
 he had only one trial at mistakes, the caution which 
 only demonstrated Mr. Smith's trustworthiness was con- 
 sidered well taken. But even under ordinary circum- 
 stances the distinction is keenly felt between being 
 merely tolerated and being welcomed. Doubtless both 
 felt that it was a difficult feat to reconcile the brother 
 with the enemy. During the night there were noises in 
 the house indicating that all were not asleep, and that the 
 writer was not the only one under the roof who was suf- 
 fering from apprehensions. 
 
 August 24. At daylight a sharp tapping on the win- 
 dow aroused the writer, who arose, to discover that it was 
 only Mr. Smith, apprising of the approach of day. 
 Dressing appearance conference. "I desire to go 
 north." Carefully crossing the road, Mr. Smith ex- 
 presses fear that the "Confederate folks" may be com 
 ing along. Piloted on a path by Mr. S., northward, 
 
OF THE WAR. Ill 
 
 nearly a mile. "Now, if you will remain here awhile," 
 said Mr. S., "I'll send or bring you some breakfast." 
 " Thanks, but time is precious, and I'll move on to thicker 
 cover." Smith accepts thanks for kindness and secrecy, 
 and returns. The writer performed a three-mile circuit, 
 ending at the welcome bower in rear of Aunt Mary's 
 cabin. Tedious march through the dew-wet shrubbery. 
 Wearied and anxious, the writer fell asleep, and within 
 his embrace was a large watermelon which he had gath- 
 ered en route. Luscious bedfellow ! He was awakened 
 by the presence of Aunt Mary, who knew of his intention 
 to return and keep his engagement with Jim, and who 
 stood ready with a fine warm breakfast. No suspicion 
 no fears no misgivings no reservations ; but perfect 
 confidence. "Ah, how strong is my trust in black!" 
 While the writer eagerly discussed comforts, to which he 
 knew he was heartily welcome, Aunt Mary humorously 
 related the reports of the previous evening's experiences. 
 The mysterious visitor was referred to in terms rather 
 complimentary than otherwise. "Siss," a fair, grown 
 daughter of Mr. Smith, said "he was dressed in Yankee 
 blue from tip to toe." The sweet little miss whom the 
 writer had observed from the straw-house, in her childish 
 innocence and imagination confidentially told Aunt Mary 
 that " his breast was full of pistols! " Mrs. Stancil con- 
 fessed that she ' ' was very much pleased with the little 
 Yankee officer." (How about that Confederate lieuten- 
 
112 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 ant?) She was probably thinking of the Confederate 
 when she added, "I really fell in love with him." Mr. 
 Smith said he was " a gay, bold young Yankee, armed to 
 the teeth ; " and gave it as his opinion that " he had plenty 
 of company near at hand. ' ' The negroes were all de- 
 lighted with the adventure, but looked significantly at 
 each other when informed that Smith possessed no infor- 
 mation about the armies, although the newspapers were 
 delivered daily at his door. Reports came that during 
 the day there had been unusual passing of cavalry and 
 refugees on the road, and several soldiers had conversed 
 with Mr. Smith, who seemed somewhat excited. The 
 writer's curiosity was also excited. What's the news? 
 All silent Atlantaward. What can it mean? Despera- 
 tion makes one bold determination to squeeze some 
 information from Smith. At night the writer approached 
 from the north, and hailed at the gate. "What's want- 
 ing?" inquired the sweet voice of Siss. "The man of 
 the house," was the response. "Pa," she called, " some- 
 body for you." Mr. S. came to the gate, and the writer 
 explained that he observed extra commotion on the road, 
 and, before starting north, took the liberty to learn from 
 him what news had been brought to him from the front ; 
 and that the writer took this method in order not to dis- 
 turb the peace of his family by reappearance within. Mr. 
 Smith expressed thanks for prudence, and replied, "They 
 all say that Hood has made up his mind to hold Atlanta 
 
OF THE WAR. 11$ 
 
 at all hazards." " Thanks," said the writer, u my course 
 is determined." (It was, to round the Confederate right 
 flank into our lines useless to wait longer. ) The ladiea 
 now appeared at the front-door, and peered suspiciously 
 out into the darkness. "They're all excitement again," 
 said Smith. "I'll allay it," replied the writer, "by pre- 
 tending I am trying to purchase apples of you," and 
 uttered a loud remark to that effect; to which Smith 
 loudly replied, "Yes, sir; but I'm sorry, sir, but apples 
 are very scarce this year ; " and the writer passed away 
 in the darkness, silently contemplating the marvellous 
 dread of blue cloth. A short circuit again brought him 
 to the bower-house, where he restlessly remained all 
 night. 
 
 August 25. Fishing ; thinking ; planning ; waiting 
 for Jim's return. Anxious to start for the Union lines. 
 Where is that Jim ? 
 
 August 26. Occasional booming of a single gun in 
 the direction of Atlanta ; irregular and slow firing ; in- 
 dications that they are tired of it. After dark, there 
 suddenly bursts forth a furious cannonade ; rapid firing ; 
 puzzling ! 
 
 August 27. Great excitement ! Confederate cavalry 
 report that "Sherman is falling back to the Chattahoo- 
 
 8 
 
114 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 chee ! ' ' Driven back from Atlanta repulsed failure ? 
 Whites jubilant; negroes sorrowful; writer nonplussed. 
 " Don't believe it." True or false, time is precious. 
 " Where is Jim?" 
 
 Sunday, August 28. Very early this morning, Jim 
 appeared, with questionable explanations of his absence, 
 and announced himself ready to depart with the writer 
 for the Federal lines. We spend the day arranging our 
 plans and receiving reports of jubilant rebel cavalrymen 
 passing the " big house " and exchanging congratulations 
 with Mr. Smith on account of the 4 ' glorious Confederate 
 victory and Yankee defeat! " Ominous silence in the 
 direction of Atlanta seems confirmatory of the report. 
 Negroes much depressed writer unable to explain 
 situation puzzling. What ! " defeat? " The old Army of 
 the Tennessee ! Sherman ! destroyed and scattered ? Im- 
 possible! impossible! But what can it all mean? Night 
 of anxiety, mingled with hopes and fears. 
 
 August 29. Council of war. To go or not to go, 
 which ? Inducements to remain doubts and dangers 
 ahead. Result of conference is, that all things consid- 
 ered, and reports true or false, we start for our lines this 
 evening at dark. The writer had not much to give, but 
 such as he had he placed at the disposal of Aunt Mary. 
 The main gift was his silver watch. He took it from his 
 
OF THE WAR. 115 
 
 pocket and passed it to Aunt Mary, and asked her to 
 accept it with his sincere thanks for the aid and comfort 
 she had furnished him, and for the deep interest she had 
 taken in his welfare, as well as for the exhibition of loy- 
 alty to the cause represented by the uniform he wore. 
 Aunt Mary seemed greatly surprised and embarrassed. 
 She went through the usual motions, but was too black to 
 blush. Sudden and unexpected. In the nobility of her 
 nature, she said : u If you must give that away too, give it 
 to brother Pey t. ' ' Pey t was all ears and eyes. In obedi- 
 ence to her request, the watch was handed over to Peyt. 
 With both hands he accepted it. He appreciated the gift, 
 but had long before proved more than his appreciation 
 of the giver. The trusty timepiece had been a valuable 
 companion, constantly imparting, by day and by night, 
 much desired information ; but the idea of leaving those 
 tried and true friends with any thing in the way of per- 
 sonal property upon me, to which was not attached more 
 significance than mere intrinsic value, seemed repulsive 
 in the extreme, and made the giving of the watch a real 
 pleasure and not a sacrifice. "Peyt always did fancy 
 that watch." In Aunt Mary's cabin the faithful had 
 assembled to bid us good-bye and God-speed. We bade 
 an affectionate farewell to all, and were soon rapidly 
 marching eastward, en route to the Federal lines. Our 
 plan is to round the Confederate right flank, which we 
 learn is near Covington, Georgia, north-eastward, and per- 
 
116 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 form a safe circle to the rear of the extreme Federal left, 
 and to press eastward as long as danger threatened from the 
 north. It was thought, as the Northern Georgia Railroad, 
 extending eastward from Atlanta, had been, and probably 
 continued, a u bone of contention," that we could reach 
 that, and cautiously follow it toward Atlanta until k ' cap- 
 tured " by the Federal pickets or scouts. We cautiously 
 proceeded, without uttering a word, a distance of between 
 eight and nine miles, to a plantation of a " Mr. Gleaton," 
 a wealthy Southern gentleman, where we had reason to 
 believe much valuable information could be obtained from 
 one of his negroes, named "Bill," who had recently 
 returned from work on the entrenchments at Atlanta. 
 We approached the cabin of a negro friend of Jim, and 
 learned that " Bill " was on duty at his master's mansion, 
 and could not be interviewed until after daylight. " Or- 
 dered " a halt for the night ; headquarters established 
 in the woods, about one mile distant from the mansion ; 
 spot indicated and agreed upon ; bedding furnished ; 
 sweet sleep until broad daylight of 
 
 August 30. We opened our eyes on a charming 
 morning. Birds singing; squirrels sporting dim light 
 streaming through the foliage. Beautiful! Beautiful! 
 
 " See how Aurora throws her fair 
 Fresh-quilted colors through the air! " 
 
 No time wasted at the toilet. "Now, Jim, tell me, 
 
OF THE WAR. 117 
 
 tell me about Mr. Gleatou and his family." Gathered 
 that Mr. G. is wealthy land-owner corpulent ; built like 
 Mr. Smith, but somewhat smaller slaves call him a good 
 master ; feeds his slaves well ; they are not obliged to steal 
 to live well. Contrasted with Smith, to the latter' s dis- 
 credit ; Gleaton generally kind and reasonable, but exceed- 
 ingly cunning. He slyly approaches the hands at work in 
 the field, and suddenly and unexpectedly appears in their 
 midst. Appropriately dubbed, in consequence, " Old 
 'Poss." Strong Southern man has sons in the Confed- 
 erate army, or at least one his son George is at home, 
 minus a leg lost in the Confederate service. His son 
 Thomas is too young for a man, and yet too old for a boy ; 
 he hunts squirrels with a small rifle. Both reported as 
 given to intolerable boasting of individual ability to dis- 
 patch indefinite numbers of Yankees on sight ! A daugh- 
 ter, too, beautiful and accomplished. Descriptions 
 interrupted by approaching footfalls breathless atten- 
 tion black faces ; all right. Two of the field-hands, 
 negresses, on their way to work, knowing of our presence, 
 made us a pleasant morning call, and brought information 
 that Bill was aware of our presence, and would bring us 
 dinner. Interesting chat surprised and delighted 
 continue their way, singing as they go. Noon brought the 
 coveted Bill, with a warm, wholesome dinner for us. In- 
 troduction information not important. "Niggers not 
 'lowed to know much, sar." Reports of Lybyer ; all right 
 
118 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 when last heard from at Freeman's, only three miles dis- 
 tant determine to endeavor to overtake him to-night, and 
 three go together. Night thanks, and farewell. A short 
 tramp over a path through fields and woods, and we are on 
 the west bank of South River. A small scow, used by the 
 negroes in crossing, and which they Frenchify by calling 
 a "bateau," is in waiting for us; a short sail the east 
 bank a mile-heat through fields and woods, and we reach 
 the plantation called ''Freeman's." "Tell me all about 
 Freeman and family, Jim. ' ' Freeman, poor white plan- 
 tation belongs to Gleaton Gleaton furnishes the hands, 
 and Freeman superintends and works the place on shares ; 
 residence equidistant between South River on the west 
 and "Honey Creek" on the east. The usual circling 
 around behind the negro cabins. We are expected, and 
 greeted with warm welcome and warm supper. Word 
 44 flew " over from Gleaton' s by daylight that we might be 
 expected to-night. We find another trusty friend in ' 'Aunt 
 Hannah," a .great heavy, fat, jolly negress, " more'n 
 half white. ' ' Happy to see us delighted to aid us full 
 of kind wishes and congratulations assisted Lybyer. 
 4 ' Where is he ?' ' Started off last night disappointment ; 
 his intentions or plan not ascertainable. Nothing from 
 the armies no news silence Atlantaward ! Our plan is 
 to press rapidly forward urgent invitations to remain 
 declined, with sincere thanks. If Sherman is really going 
 back, we certainly ought to follow him, even behind the 
 
OF THE WAR. 119 
 
 enemy. Doubts harassing we must press forward. Our 
 objective Conyers Station, on the Northern Georgia 
 Railroad only eight miles northward. Two slaves of 
 Gleaton, working for Freeman, named "Jack" and 
 "Near," tender their services as pilots accepted as 
 "advanced guards," thus enabling us to march rapidly. 
 Thanks ; full haversacks ; farewell on the march. Plan : 
 "advanced guards," if captured, are "going to visit 
 colored friends at Conyers." No " ear-marks " of intent 
 to run away in light plantation rigs, sans coats and shoes. 
 Meantime we " act accordingly," to strike the railroad at 
 Conyers and face Atlantaward. Eager for news ; neariug 
 Conyers ; halt listen still as death ! We can see the 
 railroad-crossing. Glorious progress ; welcome sight. 
 Now, bidding our " advanced guards" farewell, we pass 
 through the silent village street to the railroad, and turn- 
 ing our faces westward, walked steadily and rapidly until 
 " driven from our position" by da}'light of 
 
 August 31. Retreat to the thick woods; "head- 
 quarters " established too near a fine residence ; retreat 
 to an uninviting swamp in the woods broad daylight. 
 No sound or indication of war ominous silence ; aggra- 
 vating quiet. Voices a reconnoissance by the writer 
 disclosed a negro man and a white boy in an adjoining corn- 
 field stripping leaves from corn-stalks (pulling fodder) 
 no reasonable opportunity to be neglected to ascertain 
 
120 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 the news. The writer returned to "headquarters," 
 doffed his blue and donned the gray coat of Jim ; circled 
 around the field, and approached the workers from the 
 opposite direction, hailing them to attract their attention. 
 They both appeared much astounded, and curiously eyed 
 the writer, with a cautious, inquiring gaze. " Good morn- 
 ing," said the writer, assuringly they both simply 
 nodded. "Any Yanks about here recently," was then 
 inquired. ' ' Yanks are falling back to Chattanooga, ' ' said 
 the boy. (Did they notice the blood leave the writer's 
 face?) " Then I am safe," said the writer, " to hunt our 
 cavalry on the road, eh?" "Safe enough," said the 
 negro "Yanks done gone away." A white man was 
 now nearing us. "Who's that?" inquired the writer. 
 "That's my pa," said the boy. (Dreaded spectre ; unwel- 
 come visitor old head.) Approach a nod, a "how, 
 d'y." Old man quite inquisitive uncomfortably curi- 
 ous perplexing interrogatories pressed for ready 
 responses ; upshot Confederate, escaped from Yankee 
 raiders, desirous of reaching Confederate forces. " What 
 regiment ? " " Twenty -fifth Georgia, Company K. ' ' His 
 eyes cautiously scanned the blue pants of the Federal uni- 
 form. "Where did you gather those Yankee pants?" 
 asked he. (Why is wit so slow? Why has ingenuity 
 fled?) His eyes followed the little light-blue welt or cord 
 down the outer seams. "Those, sir, those sir, were 
 kindly presented to me by a Yankee officer. You see, when 
 
OF THE WAR. 121 
 
 I escaped I ran through a creek, and my pants becoming 
 wet and heavy, retarded me greatly, so I pulled them off, 
 exchanging my pants for the chance to escape, but was 
 afterwards overtaken by the blue devils and captured. 
 Pity and decency moved a Yankee officer to lend me 
 these he had 'em strapped on rear of his saddle. 
 Afterwards I again escaped, as you see." (Wonder how 
 he'll take that?) " Well, well," said he, his face bright- 
 ening to a credulous smile; "you did have quite a 
 venture, sho' but you needn't fear now the Yankees 
 are just scattering for Chattanooga, and Gen. Hood is 
 right on 'em. They all are going back heap sight faster 
 than they, came." Ill-feigned delight. Will the darkness 
 within eclipse the brightness without? Genuine gloom; 
 false smiles receding hope momentary silence broken 
 with: "Wont you come up to the house to dinner, sir? 
 Some of our cavalry will be along directly." "I think 
 I'd better seize the first opportunity to meet them, 
 I've left a little bundle in the woods, [blue coat and 
 haversack] and thanking you for your kindness, I will 
 get it and wait for them on the road ; no time is to be 
 lost. Good-day, sir ;" and the writer left as he came, and 
 circled around to tell Jim of the "glorious news." More 
 concealed position in the woods selected misgivings. 
 Could the man have feigned credulity so well ? Jim down- 
 hearted too; Sherman failed to take Atlanta another 
 head in the Washington basket. Old Army of the Ten- 
 
122 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 nessee will lose all its laurels in a retrograde movement 
 never had any experience in retreat will surely be cut 
 up. How can this report be true ? how can it be possible ? 
 u Well, Jim, of one thing we may be certain: the cam- 
 paign against Atlanta is not over. If Sherman has gone 
 back, it is surely like the tide only to come again afresh. 
 Whipped ? No, sir ; you may be certain that the old army 
 is not whipped without much more fuss and racket than 
 we have heard. [Sherman had swung the army clear 
 around the rebel left, in execution of the famous flank 
 movement which won Atlanta.] "True, this silence gives 
 credence to these reports the army must have gone 
 back, but that the campaign is not ended you may bet 
 all you've got, Jim." Jim sadly shook his head keen 
 and bitter disappointment consideration of the gloomy 
 situation. 
 
 " Disappointment's mist surrounds us, 
 Dangers all around us bide." 
 
 In our front is we know not what ; in our vicinity we 
 know of no one we can ask for a crumb of bread or 
 of comfort, or to whom we can impart our secret. The 
 immediately surrounding country has been pretty well 
 " stripped" by both armies. Most of the negroes have 
 fled to the Federal lines, or joined the column as it passed 
 by. Those who remain may not be trustworthy, and if 
 trustworthy, cannot be depended upon for rations they 
 can hardly get enough for themselves. In our haversacks 
 
OP THE WAR. 123 
 
 we have rations for twenty-four hours till to-morrow 
 afternoon ; what then? Under the circumstances, we can- 
 not advance, we cannot remain ; the alternatives remain- 
 ing are to retreat or surrender ; the latter, never ! until 
 the until well, never!' Determined upon safe re- 
 treat twilight ; dark ; plan : to return to Conyers Station 
 " by rail," and follow the road leading south to Freeman's. 
 Since we must suspend "military movements" and 
 patiently await developments and explanations, it is best 
 to await them in comparative comfort and safety among 
 friends. The march to Conyers single file through its 
 main street, Jim preceding writer whistled, as best kind 
 of deception. (A man feels at home when he whistles.) 
 We travel in the middle of the road, as numerous ladies are 
 parading the sidewalks bareheaded, in the cool air of the 
 late evening, by twos and threes gentlemen very scarce 
 families enjoying the cool evening chatting on piazzas 
 boys playing in the street. We pass all safely, and with- 
 out a word spoken by us or to us ; boldness disarms sus- 
 picion the road leading south leisure gait transformed 
 to a brisk, rapid pace as we turn southward. Eight miles' 
 rapid march and almost speechless transit, and shortly 
 after midnight we rest our weary limbs at coveted Free- 
 man's. Cautiously arousing Aunt Hannah whispered 
 explanation of return, and warm congratulations and 
 welcome ; we slept sweetly in quilts on her kitchen floor. 
 
124 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 Awakened and retreated to the friendly woods at day- 
 break of 
 
 September 1, Where we remained awaiting develop- 
 ments all day, royally provided for by Aunt Hannah; 
 dark; a conference of war no artillery, no sounds of 
 battle no doubt something extraordinary has happened 
 at the front. The negroes had always insisted that Free- 
 man's folks were "Union," and now again insisted that 
 the writer test their loyalty by disclosing his character 
 and presence to them. The writer inquired : 
 
 " What did they ever say to make you think so? They 
 might have been just testing you." 
 
 "They often said they'd like mighty well to see a real 
 Yankee." 
 
 "Ah, but any Confederate soldier might say the 
 same." 
 
 "But one of the girls Siss says she's going to 
 marry a Yankee." 
 
 " That was just by way of a joke." 
 
 "But I heerd old man Freeman say i it was a great 
 shame for our folks to try and break up the Union.' " 
 
 " That talk was all for black ears." 
 
 " Well, we's satisfied to have you try him. You'll find 
 him 'Union/ strong! " 
 
 "Very well; I'll try him to-night, and we shall all see 
 
OF THE WAR. 125 
 
 whether he is Union or rebel. I don't think he would 
 dare be Union if he wanted to." 
 
 Twilight dark; plan of approach formed and an- 
 nounced. The writer wore a light, lavender- colored 
 cape, which Aunt Mary had kindly and thoughtfully fur- 
 nished, and it was dyed with sumach leaves, as 
 Aunt Mary expressed it, "de color ob night/' and 
 served to nicely conceal the blue cloth, a row of glittering 
 brass buttons, and shoulder-straps. " Pickets" were 
 stationed on the road above and below the house, to cast 
 a stone as the signal of the approach of cavalry, or other 
 danger. These precautions taken, the writer stepped into 
 the road, and silently passed to the front gate of the 
 Freeman residence, which stood about ten feet back from 
 the gate. A halt ; listen ; the customary hail a young 
 lady in "homespun" dress appeared at the window, and 
 
 - v 
 
 inquiringly peered toward the gate. She manifestly heard 
 the hail, but, save by appearance, failed to respond. 
 The writer then said, 
 
 "I wish to see the man of the house, if you please." 
 Mr. Freeman then strolled slowly toward the gate. The 
 writer opened conversation with 
 
 " Who lives here, sir, please? " 
 
 " I do ; my name is Freeman." 
 
 u How far is't to Conyers? " 
 
 " About eight mile, they say. Who are you? " 
 
126 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 " Only a stray Confederate. Seen any of our cavalry 
 lately?" 
 
 " Nary one since last week; don't know what's come 
 o' them all of a sudden. Guess they've got enough of 
 the Yankees." 
 
 "Why so, sir?" 
 
 4 'Well, it looks like it's becomin gmore and more up- 
 hill work to fight 'em ; we'd better give it up altogether." 
 
 " So I think, if there are many more traitors like you 
 in the rear of our army." 
 
 " Well, that's the way I feel about it. It's only a clear 
 waste of lives. They're too strong for us, sir. The 
 government is bound to whip us, sooner or later. We 
 all know we can't stand it much longer." 
 
 " Did you ever see a Yankee? " 
 
 "No, sir; but I wouldn't be afraid o' them; I never 
 did a thing agin 'em in my life. I heerd tell so much 
 about 'em, I would like right well to see one on 'em." 
 
 " Look at me ! Do I look like a Confederate ? " 
 
 "I reckon you do, sir; you're no Yankee, sir." 
 
 The writer stood in the flood of light which streamed 
 from the window, threw back over his shoulders the little 
 gray cape, exposing the blue uniform and glittering but- 
 tons and shoulder-straps. " What do you think now? " 
 
 Mr. F. started back with " What! Possible? A Yan- 
 kee ? You ? I am your friend you must not stand here 
 
OF THE WAR. 127 
 
 on the road, in danger. Come in, sir ; come in. My 
 folks will be glad to see you." The family now gathered 
 at the window, at the mention of the word "Yankee," 
 which was excitedly repeated by them in whispers. As 
 he was escorted into the room, a shawl was tacked up, as 
 a substitute for a curtain, against the front window. 
 " Our folks frequently pass on the road," said one. The 
 little gray cape was doffed, and never was the wearer so 
 proud of his blue uniform and straps as when these five 
 pairs of admiring eyes scanned them. Steady gazing ; 
 curiosity mingled with admiration. "First Yankee ever 
 seen." Cordial invitation to supper accepted, with 
 thanks. An introduction to the members of Mr. Free- 
 man's family disclosed the presence of Mrs. Freeman, 
 Miss Downs, a buxom miss of eighteen summers (daugh- 
 ter of Mrs. Freeman by a former marriage), and called 
 " Siss ; " Milligan, her brother, aged about twelve years, 
 stout, healthy, good-natured ; Betsy and Nancy (daugh- 
 ters of Mr. Freeman by a former marriage), aged respec- 
 tively seventeen and fifteen. 
 
 Mr. Freeman Age about fifty-five ; belongs to the Thir- 
 tieth Georgia Militia ; owner of one slave woman, Sarah, 
 and her child. One of the peculiarities of a peculiar system 
 is exhibited in her case: her husband, called "Dock," is 
 a free negro, hanging around the plantation, having pur- 
 chased his own freedom, and living with his " wife," the 
 personal property of Mr. Freeman. The child of this 
 
128 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 free negro is also the property of Mr. F. , under the well- 
 known law that the offspring of the dam is the property 
 of the owner. Delightful contemplation! The law for 
 brutes is the law for slaves the title of the master supe- 
 rior to that of the father. Mr. F. not responsible for the 
 law. Kind, good-natured gentleman ; practical Chris- 
 tian, harmless, philosophical, matter-of-fact; not one 
 
 " Who quarrels with his feed of hay 
 Because it is not clover." 
 
 From their first meeting until the present time a valued, 
 fast friend of the writer. 
 
 Mrs. Freeman About fifty-five ; though gentle, yet not 
 dull not talkative; rather nonchalant quiet, earnest 
 sympathy for the writer motherly cautious dry wit. 
 
 Miss Tinzy Downs Robust ; picture of health ; well- 
 proportioned eighteen fair complexion, brown hair, 
 blue eyes, pearly teeth decided blonde interesting ex- 
 pression and address moves one to pity that poverty 
 can limit culture possesses the " handful of common 
 sense" which "is worth more than a bushel of learn- 
 ing ' ' features interesting Grecian. 
 
 Betsy Freeman Quiet disposition ; seventeen en- 
 joys a joke, but never manufactures or perpetrates one 
 petite blonde fine hazel eyes chestnut hair always 
 pleasant; cheerfully lends the writer her dresses, and 
 laughs inordinately when they are donned to belie sex. 
 
OF THE WAR. 129 
 
 Nancy Freeman Fifteen ; full of life and frolic 
 talkative, vivacious, sparkling, interesting, sympathetic, 
 sensible, mischievous. 
 
 Milligan Downs Called " Mig ; " twelve thinks 
 " lots " of his Yankee friend proposes to go North with 
 the writer, and "enlist in the Yankee army as drummer- 
 boy" cheerful, accommodating, inquisitive never 
 tires hearing about the Yankee army. 
 
 Jacob Freeman Eldest son of Mr. F. , and at present 
 a private in the Confederate army, and on duty at Ander- 
 soriville prison-pen. 
 
 Supper was announced in due time, and the writer 
 partook heartily. He briefly related his experiences 
 since within the rebel lines, and expressed his great 
 delight to learn that all the whites were not rebels de- 
 lighted to find a few white faces that he could look into 
 without fear and trembling. Great sympathy and interest 
 were manifested in the writer's behalf. He now arose to 
 depart, .and expressed his gratitude for sympathy and 
 encouragement. "But where are you going to-night?"' 
 inquired Mrs. F. "Oh, I shall find friends; the colored! 
 people always seem glad to provide for me some way." 
 "But you have as good friends here; and you have no 
 home, no friends, and will certainly be in danger out- 
 doors ; so stay with us all night, at least," pleaded Siss. 
 "Better stay, I reckon," said Mr. F. "You can't have 
 your cap," said Siss, as she clung to that article. Their 
 
 9 
 
130 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 invitations seemed stamped with sincerity, and the writer 
 consented to be shown to the " spare room." (Soft bed, 
 clean bedding, perfect trust, sweet slumber.) Habit of 
 awakening and retreating at daybreak was not so strong 
 as to disturb rest ; and when the eyes opened, the sun was 
 away up in the morning of 
 
 September 2. Dressing ; toilet almost forgotten 
 luxury morning greetings ; mutual curiosity to meet by 
 daylight warm breakfast. "We are going to the field 
 to work, pulling fodder; wouldn't you go along with 
 us?" asked Mr. F. "Agreed; I used to work on a 
 farm myself." "I have some negro boys who belong to 
 my neighbor, and who visit there frequently ; had we 
 better tell them who you are ? Would they blab it, think ? ' ' 
 "Yes, tell them I'm a Yankee accept my guaranty 
 they'll not tell of it, if cautioned." 
 
 In the field Freeman introduces my trust} 7 friends and 
 pilots, Jack and Near, to a "Yankee." (How naturally 
 they feign surprise.) Perfect strangers. First favor- 
 able opportunity, Mr. F. received intimation that the 
 writer had met the "boys" before assertion substan- 
 tiated by the boys. "I kind er thought so," said Mr. 
 F., smiling. The writer put in a good day's work with 
 the boys, Mr. F., and the three girls, who also acted as 
 "field hands," pulling, binding, and stacking sheaves of 
 fodder. The exercise by daylight was invigorating; 
 
OF THE WAR. 131 
 
 lunch at noon, warm supper at night. "How much 
 sweeter a meal seems when we feel that we have well 
 earned it," remarked the writer, while the laugh went 
 round the table. About dusk, a rebel mail-carrier rode 
 by the house, and, reining up at the gate, sadly made the 
 astounding announcement, "The Yankees have taken 
 Atlanta!" (Glory hallelujah! Yankee doodle ! Get all 
 the particulars. Thought they had been driven back! 
 Where's Jim?) Nothing else only the sad news, told 
 with lengthened nasal twang, " The Yankees have taken 
 Atlanta; " and the sad-eyed butternut calmly moves on. 
 We unitedly rejoice. The blue-coats will be here to- 
 morrow ! Oh ! too good to be true. But how was Atlanta 
 taken? There's been no booming of cannon Atlantaward. 
 There's a mystery about the whole business. Only, 
 * 'it's taken! " Exultations; congratulations; conversa- 
 tion away into the night retirement sleep out of the 
 question rest feverish and fitful. 
 
 September 3. Great excitement ; work suspended. 
 " The Yankees are coming! " "The Yankees are com- 
 ing! " Through an abundance of precaution, the writer 
 retired to a concealed spot in the woods, back of Free- 
 man's, indistinctly commanding a view of the road, and 
 all day long patiently watched for the blue-coats, as a cat 
 watches for a mouse. Cannonading and musketry heard 
 westward, in direction of Jonesboro, on the railroad. 
 4 ' Are the rebs retreating down the railroad ? " u Push 
 
132 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 'em back, ; Uncle Billy,' push 'em back; push 'em south 
 of our 'position,' anyway." The day passes, and so 
 do "great expectations." Not a soul passes on the 
 road everybody willing to stay at home; all seem trem- 
 blingly awaiting developments. Freemans extra proud 
 of their guest, in whose presence they feel protection and 
 favor from the "enemy." Getting quite aristocratic 
 now sleep under a roof. 
 
 Sunday, September 4. Greater excitement. "Yan- 
 kees certainly coming" rebels demoralized, and falling 
 back. Along the roads and lanes, and scattering through 
 the woods and fields, straggle the defeated and disheart- 
 ened Confederates; no longer an army no longer an 
 organization disconnected and dispirited mob ; devil- 
 may-care airs every man his own commanding officer j 
 woods decidedly unsafe for blue cloth. The Freemans 
 conceal the writer in their garret; comparatively good 
 view of surrounding country from garret window small 
 volumes of blue smoke are curling gracefully skyward 
 through the foliage, marking the numerous " camp-fires " 
 of straggling soldiery. Siss turns spy for the Union 
 cause; she hails the straggling, jaded soldiers in gray, 
 and elicits valuable information. "What is the matter, 
 sir?" asked she of an intelligent but tired and worn 
 "gray-back." "Matter, ma'am! why the war is over! 
 That's what ails us we're going home." Another 
 
OP THE WAR. 133 
 
 replied, "The Yankees are in Atlanta. We did our 
 best to keep 'em out, but we are badly whipped ; no 
 use nothin' but murder to put us before the Yankee 
 guns." Butternut and gray only colored cloth on the 
 road patiently awaiting appearance of something blue. 
 So the day and night pass. 
 
 September 5. Statu quo. Anxiously and patiently 
 awaiting the advent of blue cloth ; still in the garret. 
 
 September 6. Jim had been dispatched to Glea- 
 ton's and Smith's, to bear the news of our failure to 
 reach our lines, and to gather information concerning 
 the Federal advance, and to leave word with our friends 
 to inform any genuine "blue-coats" of our situation. 
 We were to meet by appointment at Gleaton's to- 
 night ; and accordingly, after dark, the writer, piloted by 
 "Near," proceeded to the appointed place. The prom- 
 ise to return to Freeman's, in the event of failure to reach 
 the Federals, was solemnly exacted and given. Farewell ; 
 a short march to South River in the bateau at Glea- 
 ton's warm welcome. Jim not arrived ; what can cause 
 the delay? Anxiously waiting for Jim. "Wee sma* 
 hours;" no arrival; pallet bed on floor of negro cabin 
 for writer ; grand fire on the hearth slumber. Day- 
 break of 
 
134 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 September 7. The retreat to the woods no Jim 
 alone. The news is, " De Yankee calvary 1 s advancing." 
 Not a shot can be heard ; difficult to reconcile so much 
 war and so much " defeat" with so much silence ideas 
 of war all out of joint. Dead silence indicated " Sher- 
 man's defeat and retreat ; " now " dead silence " indicates 
 the advance of the Yankee "calvary." Verily the 
 times are out of joint. 
 
 September 8. Lonesome anxious watching. 
 "Where's Jim?" Speculations wild and uncertain 
 concerning his absence. "Has he been 'gathered' by 
 cavalry? " Blue or gray? " Will he conduct the ' blue- 
 coats ' to me here? " Uncertainties, doubts, fears, hopes, 
 and misgivings close the day. 
 
 September 9. Solemn conference ; conclude to wait 
 for Jim one day longer only in the woods at daylight. 
 Suddenly voices were heard in the vicinity of the retreat, 
 and a reconnoissance disclosed the approach of two young 
 men with rifles and dog squirrel-hunters. A closer view, 
 and the writer recognized "Tommy Gleaton," whom he 
 had previously secretly inspected at Freeman's. The 
 writer was kept quite busy for some hours in evading the 
 invaders of his retreat, and in endeavoring to keep his 
 person to the leeward of the nostrils of the dog chances 
 
OF THE WAR. 135 
 
 of being observed at least seventy-five per cent greater 
 while in motion. Shifting about tends to attract atten- 
 tion extra cautious. On several occasions, felt com- 
 pelled to move unceremoniously series of rapid "flank- 
 movements " and hasty " retreats " finally driven to a 
 pine grove, and eagerly penetrated it as a delightful re- 
 treat where squirrels are not found. The writer threw 
 himself into a friendly gully, protected by sheltering pine 
 boughs, and enjoyed rest. After the "skirmish " with the 
 squirrels, the hunters started homeward on a path leading 
 through the pines, which the writer had not observed, but 
 which he now discovered ran within thirty feet of his 
 retreat. Adown this path came the hunters, chatting 
 cheerfully, the dog beside them to attempt retreat 
 would only insure instant discovery. A little closer nest- 
 ling among the protecting boughs, a little flatter upon 
 mother earth, and the dreaded trio passed unobservingly, 
 and the critical moment was over. The dog alone seemed 
 interested, snuffing the ground as he passed, and mani- 
 festly catching the scent of human footprints, but unable 
 to distinguish between the blue and the gray. With great 
 pleasure the writer observed their retreating forms lost to 
 view in the thick pines. But in the shifting about, the 
 writer was unable to retain any ideas of distance or direc- 
 tion, and became completely bewildered as to both; very 
 effectually lost he could only determine the points of the 
 compass, but was utterly unable to even guess in which 
 
136 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 direction were friends and in which foes. While stand- 
 ing indulging in indefinite and unprofitable contemplation, 
 eager to catch any sight or sound to indicate the direction 
 of Gleaton's, the sounds of pattering hoofs were indis- 
 tinctly heard. Nearer and nearer the sounds approached, 
 until, through the thick boughs, the writer observed the 
 mounted forms of six rebel cavalrymen gray-coats 
 who passed on a road hardly twenty feet distant from 
 him. A road so near? The sun was now nearly sunken 
 behind the western horizon ; not knowing the proper direc- 
 tion to take, the writer stood nonplussed, and listened. 
 It was one of those calm, beautiful summer evenings, the 
 death-like stillness only broken by feathered songsters of 
 the forest, and the tinkling of distant bells in the pasture- 
 fields ; a flood of mellow, golden light streamed through 
 the foliage, and all surroundings wore the aspect of gen- 
 tle peace but man. Hark! the deep, rich melody of a 
 plantation-song floats upon the still evening air. " Field- 
 hands returning from work ; can it be possible they 
 are Gleaton's, and that I am so completely turned 
 around?" Listen to their plaintive wail did you ever 
 hear it? Mournful harmony thrilling would move a 
 heart of adamant. Almost instinctively he followed the 
 familiar, alluring voices, which conducted him safely to 
 Gleaton's, and trust}^ friends. Word had been whispered 
 among them that the Yankee was missing, the real cause 
 instantly suspected, and the loud plantation-songs pro- 
 
OF THE WAR. 137 
 
 duced the very effect designed. Shrewd, sagacious allies ; 
 quick as a flash to comprehend a delicate situation with- 
 out explanation. Faithful, trusty blacks. Shortly after 
 dark, Jim quietly reappeared, and brought no important 
 information about the armies. "Jim," said the writer, 
 "you are well dubbed ' old dog; ' where have you been 
 smelling around? " " I'se been waitin' for the Yankees 
 at Smith's ; I couldn't get yere when we said, and I come 
 now to get you." u What did I tell you about the Yan- 
 kees, Jim where's Atlanta now? " Aunt Mary had given 
 the order to bring the writer to her " dis very night." 
 "Dey's no 'scape you must go," said Jim. Not un- 
 willing to again greet Aunt Mary, and in the hope of 
 increasing the chances of also greeting the blue-coats, 
 the writer consented to go. Shortly before midnight we 
 started, and were soon speeding across the fields. We 
 arrive at Cotton River; afire voices men. Blue or 
 gray? We cautiously approach on hands and knees, 
 screened by the shrubbery, until near enough to clearly 
 observe a rebel picket-post. We quietly retreat, and 
 complete the accustomed circle around them, keeping a 
 sharp lookout for the sentry on the road, crossing the 
 small river on a log, and rapidly proceed toward Smith's, 
 boldly marching on the road. When about three miles 
 east of Smith's, our ears suddenly caught the sounds of 
 clattering hoofs; a halt listen. Louder and nearer! 
 " They're coming down the road ! " Over the fence in a 
 
138 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 twinkle concealment ; now pass eastwardly a squadron 
 of Confederate cavalry, at least one hundred strong; 
 carbines clanking sabres talking in subdued tones. 
 " Bye-bye, boys! " We were soon again on the march, 
 and in due time arrived safely at Aunt Mary's. Our old 
 friends are all up, patiently awaiting our arrival, and 
 calmly sitting in the doors of their huts. They manifested 
 much joy to again meet us ; young and old must have a 
 hearty ' ' shake. ' ' Aunt Mary seemed very much affected ; 
 she embraced the writer affectionately, and declared, "I 
 think jus' as much of you as if you was my own chile ! " 
 There was no " color line" before which could be halted 
 the flow of genuine esteem and gratitude which the writer 
 entertained toward true and tried black Aunt Mary. 
 
 " Skins may differ, but affection 
 Dwells in white and black the same." 
 
 The remainder of the morning was spent in slumber on 
 a pallet bed in Aunt Mary's cabin-loft. 
 
 September 10. The writer was informed that the 
 woods were considered dangerous, and that he must re- 
 main in the loft all day ; the march and excitement of 
 the previous night, however, converts confinement into 
 welcome rest. Confederate cavalrymen and stragglers 
 on foot are wandering about from plantation to planta- 
 tion, purchasing pigs, corn, chickens, potatoes, etc. 
 They report that the " whole army is encamped at Jones- 
 
OF THE WAR. 139 
 
 boro " (on the railroad, only twelve miles eastwwrd). 
 4 'The Atlanta army fallen back!" The writer imme- 
 diately determined that Smith's was no place for him. 
 He yearned for the other flank the right of the Fed- 
 erals as the rebels were manifestly being pressed east- 
 ward. At all events, he discovered that he was now among 
 the enem}-, and either flank would be preferable to the 
 centre. The frequent visitations of "gray-backs" at 
 Smith's during the day made Aunt Mary's cabin uncom- 
 fortable " headquarters " for a " blue-coat." This agita- 
 tion in Confederate military circles means something. 
 Determination to again attempt to reach our lines by 
 rounding the extreme flank of the Confederates as before. 
 There's no delusion this time Sherman's in Atlanta! 
 Our cavalry raiders will certainly " hang about" the 
 rebel flanks would prefer the other flank, but it's not 
 available. At dark we bid all a last, affectionate fare- 
 well, and rapidly march eight miles eastward, avoiding the 
 roads, and proceeding across the fields to Cotton River. 
 Here we find again the fire at the rebel picket-post on the 
 road, and from a safe distance cautiously inspect the gray 
 uniforms about the fire ; maintaining, the while, most pro- 
 found respect for the unseen sentry, whom we knew ought 
 to be standing in the dark on the road. We safely arrived 
 at Gleaton's slept on pallet beds in a friendly negro 
 hut until daylight of 
 
140 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 September 11 , Which found us again in thick pro- 
 tecting foliage of the woods. After dark we were con- 
 ducted to a neighboring plantation for a solicited confer- 
 ence with the writer, which had been requested by a negro 
 slave and his wife, runaways, who desired to reach the 
 Federal lines. They asked the writer, "Which way is 
 best to go?" 
 
 44 That's the very thing I can't tell for myself." 
 
 44 Well, we'd like mighty well to go wid you." 
 
 44 That will never do ; two of us find travelling together 
 very dangerous four pair of feet would more than double 
 the risk." 
 
 44 We'll take all de risk, sar." 
 
 44 But I'll not take any ; your interest and ours requires 
 separation ; two can make quite enough noise. The writer 
 observed the negro was armed with a carbine, and in- 
 quired, 
 
 44 Where did you get that rifle? " 
 
 44 In de ribber yonder, off one o' you 'uns who was 
 with Mr. Kilpatrick's raiders, and drowned in trying to 
 ford de ribber." 
 
 44 Let me see it." (Examines.) 44 A Yankee carbine, 
 sure. Say, Sam, better give me this carbine ; it belongs 
 to the Yankees, anyhow. I'll make good use of it, if 
 you'll give it to me ; beside, it would go pretty hard with 
 vou to be caught by the rebs, armed." 
 
OF THE WAR. 141 
 
 "I done thought o' that befo' guess you'd better 
 take it along." 
 
 "Thank you, Sam (negroes all 4 Sams ') ; thank you." 
 
 "Here's a few cartridges for 't take 'em along." 
 
 ' ' Thank you thank you. ' ' 
 
 " An' here's a few caps for 't, too." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 The writer pressed the steel clasp beneath the stock, 
 the breech slid downward, and the handy little breech- 
 loading Federal carbine was soon loaded and capped 
 ready for action. Glorious ! "I feel as strong as a whole 
 regiment. No longer required, under any and all circum- 
 stances to play the ' sneak ; ' can assume the offensive 
 now, if absolutely required arms and ammunition;" 
 keen realization of difference in feeling between being 
 armed and unarmed. Reminded of slight difference 
 humorously alleged to exist between Confederate and 
 Democrat, viz., "Confederate, armed Democrat; Demo- 
 crat, unarmed Confederate." The reflection forced that 
 if the " slight difference " extends beyond mere senti- 
 ment or opinion, it immediately enlarges to one of magni- 
 tude. Returned to Gleaton's an armed Yankee glow- 
 ing expressions of over-confidence in the negroes of the 
 Yankee's ability to use the weapon if required. Slum- 
 bered sweetly on a pallet on the cabin floor, my trusty 
 carbine my " bedfellow." Between two and three o'clock 
 in the morning of 
 
142 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 September 12, We were gently aroused by " Near,'* 
 one of Freeman's field-hands, who stated that the Free- 
 mans, especially Siss, had dispatched him for the writer, 
 with instructions " not to return without him." " They 
 have some important news, probably." The writer will- 
 ingly obeyed the unseasonable summons, and in a few 
 moments was on the march toward Freeman's, accom- 
 panied by the faithful messenger, leaving Jim to await 
 his return to Gleaton's. The bateau was missing from 
 the river-bank ; but without stopping to investigate the 
 cause, the writer and his guide hastily stripped off their 
 clothing, carrying it on their heads while they forded the 
 river, over waist-deep ; then hastily dressing, and rapidly 
 marching, safely reaching their destination about sunrise. 
 The usual precaution developed that "Grandpa" (Mrs. 
 Freeman's father) was up on a visit from Oak Hill, 
 Georgia (six miles southward), and it was deemed wise 
 to withhold our secret from him. Accordingly, Near was 
 dispatched to report to Freeman's the presence of the 
 writer, and returned to the woods with " Dere's no news in 
 partic'lar ; Siss say she want to see you, dat's all." " She 
 has news she will not tell Near," thought the writer. 
 Patiently waiting in the woods, with growing confidence in 
 my loaded companion-piece ; as usual, my selected posi- 
 tion commands all the approaches to the house. Toward 
 evening, Siss appeared at the rear window of the kitchen 
 building, situated some distance in rear of the residence, 
 
OF THE WAR. 143 
 
 and peered inquiringly into the woods. A form in blue 
 disclosed its presence, and she beckoned its approach ; 
 cheerful obedience greetings and congratulations. The 
 young lady explained : " The old gentleman at the house 
 is my grandpap ; but he will go home soon, perhaps to- 
 night, then we want you to come to the house. He is old, 
 and if he knew a Yankee was about, he'd be scared to 
 death." 
 
 " Why did you send for me, Siss ; have you any news 
 about our troops? " 
 
 " Not a word ; I just thought you'd be safer here than 
 anywhere else. Be sure and come to this window after 
 dark; I'll have a nice supper for you." 
 
 " How can I ever repay you for your kindness?" 
 
 " Never mind that you're friendless now." 
 
 ' ' Friendless ! then who are you ? ' ' 
 
 "Be sure and come early to supper, while it's hot; so 
 good-bye till supper time ; " and the pleasant face faded 
 from the window like a vision. The writer cautiously 
 retired to the woods, but saw nought but the pleasant face 
 at the window ; heard nought but a cheerful, sympathetic 
 voice ; merry birds warbled their evening songs, and 
 squirrels vigorously chattered as if chiding his silence 
 and lack of attention, but they interrupted not his 
 thoughts. "Fair complexion, intelligent features, spark- 
 ling blue eyes, sweet voice, pearly teeth, fine figure ; 
 manifests great interest ; large heart ; rich brown hair 
 
144 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 and all growing more and more beautiful every moment I 
 Why is this thus?" The voices of the night reminded 
 him of the approach of darkness, which now steals, unob- 
 served, over earth and sky. A hasty repairing to the 
 appointed window; Siss was in waiting, and proudly 
 passes out a delicious supper, which was fully appreciated 
 and speedily appropriated. Said she: "Mr. Freeman's 
 son ' Jake ' is just up from the Confederate army, from 
 Andersonville, where he is stationed on guard duty ; but 
 we've talked it all over, and decided that you're not going 
 to sleep in the woods nor any cabin to-night. Grandpap 
 and Jake both will stay all night, but we've made room 
 for you too ; so in about two hours, when every thing is 
 quiet, please come to the house to sleep." Siss's pro- 
 gramme was executed, and the writer slept soundly, 
 separated by a thin board partition from the Confederate 
 soldier, to whom it was thought not best to impart the 
 " family secret." 
 
 September 13. The writer was the first of the three 
 visitors up, and was soon after in his retreat in the 
 woods. By appointment, Milligan and the writer re- 
 treated deep into the forest together, and there tested the 
 accuracy of the "Yankee carbine," shooting several 
 times at a paper mark, at about four hundred yards dis- 
 tance ; result entirely satisfactory. We returned about 
 noon, and were informed that both "grandpa" and 
 
OF THE WAR. 145 
 
 " Jake " had departed one for Oak Hill, the other for 
 Andersonville. In our absence, the girls had studied an 
 ingenious plan by which acquaintance with the writer 
 was to be maintained by daylight as well as by night ; 
 he was to be disguised as a young lady. After a ' ' clean 
 shave," the writer was directed to don one of Betsy's 
 calico dresses and a sun-bonnet. Done splendid fit! 
 " I'm to pass for Betsy, and poor Betsy's to stay at home 
 while the rest of us raid for muscadines and grapes." 
 Thus does the ingenuity of the girls anticipate undue curi- 
 osity of the neighbors, and also render their stranger- 
 friend cavalry-proof. "Agreed; I'm Betsy." We 
 venture forth on the road, accompanied by the little dog 
 "Trip," and each carrying a basket; it seems so queer, 
 so irregular, to be moving during daylight. A short dis- 
 tance from the house we met two strange horsemen, 
 who gracefully lifted their hats and smiled pleasantly as 
 the "three Freeman girls" passed. We pass "Honey 
 Creek," finally reach the vines, gather the delicious 
 fruit, and safely return with filled baskets ; a success. 
 
 September 14. Visitors' day; caught in the house 
 early this morning i.e., unable to get out without great 
 danger of being detected by old Mr. Gleaton, the pro- 
 prietor of the plantation ; on shares with Freeman. 
 " Came over on a tour of inspection," he said, as he 
 
 10 
 
146 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 reined up his charger at the gate, before the writer awoke ; 
 "early bird." Yards, cabins, and work in the fields 
 were scrutinized in turn, from a commanding position in 
 the saddle. The writer obtained not a very satisfactory 
 view of the " Old 'Poss," and was exceedingly cautious, 
 after the frequent warnings by the negroes of the sly 
 nature of the old gentleman. Shortly after noon he de- 
 parted, and we all breathed freer. Before advantage of 
 his absence could be taken, however, a Confederate sol- 
 dier called ; seated himself in the front-room, and seemed 
 disposed to make himself very much at home, and actually 
 tried to be funny. Siss was "detailed" by the writer 
 to obtain any information she could from him, and the 
 writer inspected him through a door slightly open at his 
 back. He knew little more than we; was disposed to 
 prolong his stay; tired everybody out; pointed hints 
 were ineffectual ; manifestly, as Siss said, waiting for an 
 invitation to supper. Receiving no encouragement in that 
 direction, he finally arose, stretched himself, and rode off 
 supperless. No sooner had he gone than " Old 'Poss " 
 returned, and remained all night, sleeping in a room ad- 
 joining that of the writer. His suspicious return caused 
 some suspicion that he was curious about something. 
 "Has he received a hint of our secret?" "Did he 
 observe any thing which excited his curiosity ? ' ' How- 
 beit, he gained no further information by "roosting" 
 away from his home. 
 
OF THE WAR. 147 
 
 September 15 and 16. At Freeman's; dodging 
 " neighbors " and rebel cavalry. Passing to and fro on 
 the road are soldiers in gray, and also many refugees flee- 
 ing from the Yankees. We put on a bold front, however, 
 and kept the family supplied with grapes and muscadines. 
 The novelty of the writer's apparel Betsy's dress fur- 
 nished not only healthy diversion for himself, but almost 
 boundless amusement for the family. But the transition 
 from frivolity to discretion was instant upon the approach 
 of danger, or occurring circumstances which rendered 
 good acting necessary ; at other times, or when ' ' off 
 guard," much merriment was created by the writer's 
 imitations, in costume, of many of Betsy's peculiarities. 
 
 September 17. The new programme is for the writer 
 to wear one of Betsy's dresses during the whole day. 
 *'If it be a good deception in emergencies, it cannot be 
 bad in general ; ergo, wear it. Plan adopted. Mr. 
 Freeman seriously inquired of the writer, " But, George," 
 (they had all learned to call the writer by his first name) 
 "if our folks should happen to catch you in disguise, 
 wouldn't they take you and hang you for a spy? " " No, 
 not according to any laws of war ; of course not. I 
 didn't come, but was forced into their lines by them ; but, 
 of course, there's no telling what might be done. It might 
 be hard for me to furnish other evidence than my own 
 word that I am not a spy ; even you don't know what I 
 
148 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 am. The only evidence on me is my diary ; it's hard to 
 tell how they'd construe that. However, such specula- 
 tions will impress us with the importance of not being 
 caught. I'll keep my uniform on, and take my chances 
 in calico over it ; I will not be disguised for any of the 
 purposes of a spy." Free as a bird! Unbodied joy! 
 Freedom of the yard, house, porch, and road by day- 
 light ; a new creature ; a new life ; relieved of the neces- 
 sity of the constant strain produced by forced caution 
 and concealment. The negroes seem wild with merri- 
 ment! " Errand-girl " between whites and blacks. No 
 Confederate, no Yankee simple non-combatant. 
 
 September 18. No sounds of war ! "Where's Jim? " 
 4 'What's the news? Why no report from the front? 
 Has 'Uncle Billy' pushed 'em south of Smith's yet?" 
 The writer undertook to obtain answers to these inquiries, 
 especially the latter, in person; and at dark made an 
 announcement to that effect, bade a reluctant good-bye, 
 and carrying carbine and ammunition, proceeded on the 
 usual route to Gleaton's with Jack, paddling across the 
 river, tramping through the fields, and in due time was 
 again welcomed at Gleaton's, and slept soundly in a 
 friendly cabin. 
 
 September 19. Usual march at daybreak for the 
 woods. In straggling through the heart of the lonely 
 
OF THE WAR. 149 
 
 woods for exercise, the writer suddenly came to a 
 deserted, isolated, and partially dilapidated cabin, thickly 
 surrounded by foliage ; no signs of occupancy ; a cau- 
 tious approach, an entry, an investigation ; suspicious 
 appearance of the floor boards loose ; they readily 
 yielded up, and underneath lies concealed a small 
 trunk. It is raining hard, and consequently safe to fur- 
 ther investigate ; tempting curiosity. The trunk is pulled 
 out ; fortunately a key is in possession which unlocks it, 
 and justifies suspicions. The contents are noted: One 
 gray Confederate uniform, a number of United States 
 government shirts, a United States government sabre, 
 a sample of Yankee cartridges, an assortment of fine 
 new citizens' clothing, and a Yankee relic in the shape of 
 a small edition of the New Testament. All " contraband 
 of war," and fairly recaptured. The " government prop- 
 erty " was concealed in a hollow tree near the cabin, 
 where it may yet remain ; the other property was left in 
 the trunk. The "owner," upon exhibiting proper evi- 
 dences of his title to the contraband articles, can now 
 ascertain their exact location. The "Yankee relic" 
 Testament was converted into a "Confederate relic," 
 and is now in possession of the writer as such ; it will 
 be cheerfully surrendered upon request of the possessor 
 of a superior title. Suddenly the thought occurred, 
 "The negroes will be at once suspected, and perhaps 
 punished. ' ' A happy thought ' ' show your hand ' ' 
 
150 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 writing; negroes can't write like that! A fly-leaf is torn 
 from the Testament ; a pencil from the trunk writes sub- 
 stantially these words : 
 
 "To the depositor of the contraband of war missing 
 from this trunk: We are but a few Federals who have 
 recaptured this government property, while on a short 
 scout. The main army will probably pass in this vicinity 
 shortly, when a proper account may be demanded ; until 
 then, farewell. FEDERAL SCOUTS." 
 
 "There," thought the writer, " that will turn suspicion 
 from my colored friends, anyway." The note was left 
 on the trunk, the trunk on the floor, and the weeds 
 trodden down and shrubbery broken, to strengthen 
 credulity. The writer mused, "These were no doubt 
 concealed in anticipation of the Federal advance." For 
 the first time, through this volume, those who already 
 know a part of the facts may now also know the secret of 
 them. 
 
 September 20. In the cabins last night, and the trunk 
 experience was related to tickled negroes ; ownership of 
 the trunk a mystery. In the woods at daybreak ; a rainy, 
 disagreeable day. "Headquarters" in a large, hollow 
 tree; young negro boy, "Tommy," seemed delighted 
 with the honor of bringing the writer a fine warm dinner ; 
 the writer was equally delighted to receive it. At night 
 
OF THE WAR. 151 
 
 * 
 
 an opportunity was presented to obtain a closer view of 
 the family of Mr. Gleaton, of whom the writer had 
 recently heard so much highly "colored," harmless 
 gossip. Through the crotch of a peach-tree he calmly 
 viewed them at supper a few feet away ; every indica- 
 tion of intelligence and refinement ; beautiful young lady. 
 Before midnight, Jack arrived from Freeman's, under 
 orders from " Siss," to ascertain what had become of the 
 writer if he had reached the Federal lines, and if not, 
 to find him, "and not return without him." The writer 
 willingly followed Jack back again to Freeman's, reaching 
 there at daybreak of 
 
 September 21. Report received that Confederate sol- 
 diers are continually passing on the road, and officers 
 frequently enter the house to make inquiries and indulge 
 in idle chat. The residence deemed unsafe for "blue 
 cloth," or for any presence which might excite curiosity. 
 A comfortable pallet on the floor of Aunt Hannah's 
 kitchen nicely meets the emergency. 
 
 September 22. Confederate soldiers passing all day ; 
 many visit the negro quarters to purchase or confiscate 
 chickens. Deep woods considered the only safe retreat 
 for a straggler in blue. 
 
 September 23. Extraordinary commotion, rebel 
 troops, cavalry and infantry, passing northwardly ! Sol- 
 
152 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 
 
 diers in gray overrun the plantation. Deep ravine, four 
 hundred yards to the rear of the cabins, is the safe 
 position to which the l ' blue ' ' falls back. Inquiries made 
 by Siss of some of the officers develop that the troops 
 are ignorant of their destination. " Is it a counter flank- 
 movement against Atlanta ? ' ' Whatever it means, it seems 
 certain the campaign is not yet ended ; the broken col- 
 umns are slipping from Sherman's front, and passing to 
 his flank and rear. Oh for a balloon to carry this news 
 to our lines ! 
 
 September 24. " Confeds. all passed," they say; 
 considered "safe to come in;" welcome; watching 
 waiting speculating guessing drooping dreaming. 
 Prospects fast fading; demoralization desperation! 
 
 Sunday, September 25. Still in the "slough of de- 
 spond." As the writer sat gloomily brooding over fading 
 prospects, with face buried in his hands, he suddenly felt 
 a stream of cool water course down his spinal column, and 
 heard the sweet voice of Siss saying, " George, wake up! 
 You must be jolly and cheerful ; I'm not going to let you 
 mourn about yere." After the first shock of the irregu- 
 lar baptism had passed, the cool joke, perpetrated in the 
 spirit of mischief, simply elicited a ghastly smile on the 
 writer's countenance ; but a sly repetition, accompanied 
 by a roguish laugh, proved too much for good nature ; and 
 
OF THE WAR. 153 
 
 as the merry torturer approached the third time, remark- 
 ing, "This is your bathing day, anyway," the contents of 
 a concealed glass of water suddenly splashed in her roguish 
 face, and before she could recover from the shock, the 
 contents of the glass intended for the writer also bathed 
 her chestnut tresses. "There," said he, " guess you've 
 got enough, now," and returned to his seat and indulgence 
 in reverie. Quick as a flash, the entire contents of a large 
 water-bucket fell upon his head and over his person, 
 soaking his clothing completely through. " That'll wake 
 you up," said the perpetrator of the deed, as she beat a 
 swift retreat, followed by her completely drenched oppo- 
 nent, who seized a filled water-pitcher en route, and emp- 
 tied its contents over her retreating person. "There," 
 said he, "now folks '11 think we're Baptists." There was 
 a cessation of hostilities ; retirement, dry clothes, and a 
 calm after the "showers." "The Yankees won't stand 
 every thing, you see," said Mrs. F. to Siss, reprovingly, 
 while the others seemed to enjoy our mutual discomfort. 
 
 September 26, 27, and 28. Still at Freeman's, in 
 female attire ; simple repetition of scenes and incidents 
 already described as occurring at Freeman's. Confeder- 
 ate stragglers daily passing northward, evidently to join 
 their commands. "What does this rush on Sherman's 
 left flank mean?" 
 
154 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 September 29. To-night Jim put in an appearance 
 again. His colored friends had contributed and presented 
 to him eighteen dollars in Confederate scrip, to assist us in 
 our extreme poverty. Unable to use it otherwise, it was 
 presented to Mr. Freeman by the writer. Jim has just 
 come from Aunt Mary's, and brings information of rumors 
 of " blue-coats," and that the Confederates " are all done 
 gone," and suggesting that we again attempt that end of 
 our " line of communication." We act on the suggestion ; 
 and after nine miles' march, during which we discovered 
 and circled around the picket-post, still maintained at 
 Cotton River, we again receive a cordial welcome from 
 dusky friends at Aunt Mary's. After the usual fine sup- 
 per, Jim repaired to a neighboring plantation for informa- 
 tion, while the writer was nicely provided with a pallet in 
 the old cabin-loft. Nothing definite, or satisfactory, or 
 consoling concerning the armies, only "the Yankees are 
 still in Atlanta." " What does Mr. Smith say now about 
 the Yankees taking Atlanta?" inquired the writer of 
 Aunt Mary. "He's mighty sober don't say any 
 thing," was the reply. 
 
 September 30. Jim and the writer in the familiar 
 bower-retreat in the woods ; council of war ; no Yan- 
 kees no encouragement no inducements hopeless. 
 Determination to make a last, desperate effort to reach 
 
OF THE WAB. 155 
 
 the Federal lines. We have waited long enough for our 
 friends in blue to come to us ; now we must go to them, 
 or or something worse ! Dark ; warm supper ; an- 
 nouncement of intentions last farewells. Many ne- 
 groes offer services and company to our lines ; kindly 
 declined, with satisfactory explanations and thanks ; final 
 departure, amid exclamations of " God bless you! " 
 " De Lord be wid you ! " The night was fearfully dark ; 
 dark, heavy clouds stretched across the heavens, and all 
 nature seemed hushed with fear at the approach of the 
 threatening storm. Neither trees, nor roads, nor fences 
 could be distinguished through the darkness of the night. 
 Cotton River crossed, but impossible to keep the path 
 through the woods beyond it. After slow and weary 
 progress, and frequent contacts and stumblings, we safely 
 reached " Gleaton's." We had just entered a friendly 
 cabin, when the threatening storm burst forth with un- 
 usual fury deluge of water. The rain-drops pattering 
 against the exterior of the protecting cabin lulled the 
 writer to sleep upon the comfortable pallet provided for 
 him, his carbine constant companion and bedfellow 
 at his side. 
 
 October 1. Daybreak found us in the woods, the 
 hollow old poplar furnishing ample protection from the 
 rain. Bill acted very acceptably as our commissary dur- 
 ing the day. No news yet. We announced to our 
 
156 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 friends our purpose to make a last desperate effort to 
 reach our lines. At night, by arrangement, there was a 
 " fare well" assembling of our colored friends; we held 
 a short conference, returned our heartfelt thanks (all we 
 had) for kindness and favors ; bade all friends at Glea- 
 ton's a last good-bye, and after the usual effort, and 
 marching through the rain, reached Freeman's about mid- 
 night. Jim repaired to the cabins ; the writer was kindly 
 admitted to the residence by Mrs. F., who discreetly 
 tacked shawls to the windows, kindled a rousing fire on 
 the hearth, and enabled the writer to dry his clothes ; 
 after which he was kindly shown to bed, and slept 
 sweetly until late in the morning of 
 
 October 2. He was awakened by a gentle tapping on 
 the door, and the familiar voice of Siss informing him 
 that breakfast awaited him. Plantation-hands are now 
 busy gathering "syrup-corn," the product of which is 
 called " these syrup " and " them molasses." " George, 
 try some of these yere syrup," said Mrs. Freeman to 
 the puzzled writer. Suppressed smile. Aggravation for 
 Mig. to blurt out, ' ' Please pass them molasses. ' ' Not 
 able to longer restrain pent-up curiosity, and seeking the 
 most polite form of relief, the writer asked Mig, ' ' Mig, 
 why do you call the molasses 'them?" "That's what 
 we all call 'em," quickly responded Mrs. F. The ex- 
 planation barred further inquiry, and of course was ac- 
 
OF THE WAR. 157 
 
 cepted as satisfactory. After breakfast there was a call for 
 the writer. Something extraordinary ! One of the negroes 
 excitedly told him there was a Yankee in the woods (indi- 
 cating the spot) who claimed to know Lieut. Bailey, of 
 Gen. M. L. Smith's staff, and requested to see him ; but 
 that he "wore a Confederate uniform." How now 
 a ruse, a trick? A hasty glance at the Freemans thor- 
 oughly convinced the writer of their innocence. Could 
 they do it? Curse the thought! Whatever it may mean, 
 whoever it may be, I'll see him ; but I shall be armed. 
 
 "You may say to him that I'll see him presently in the 
 woods where he is." The negro departed with the mes- 
 sage. The writer took his loaded carbine, and to guard 
 against possibilities, circled away around the indicated 
 concealment, and cautiously approached the spot from 
 the direction opposite to that of the house. "There he 
 is, anxiously peering toward the house his back toward 
 the writer." Near by him sat two negro women and 
 some negro children (runaways), who accompanied him. 
 The writer still cautiously approached unobserved to 
 within a few yards of them and halted, and cautiously 
 scanned the gray rebel uniform object of suspicion, 
 though stuffed with straw. He's unarmed ; wears gray 
 whiskers. All eyes strained toward the house, waiting for 
 a friend. "Hello! " hailed the writer. All eyes turned 
 instantly, and gazed inquiringly at the armed Yankee in 
 blue. The one in Confederate gray arose and exclaimed, 
 
158 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 "Why, Lieutenant, how d'ye do?" He recognized the 
 writer at once ; expressed great delight to again look 
 upon a Federal uniform ; related how he had escaped 
 from the "pen" at Andersonville ; said he was a ser- 
 geant in the Fifty-third Ohio Infantry, and that his negro 
 companions were runaways, u crazy to reach the Federal 
 lines." The writer did not remember the sergeant, but 
 placed implicit confidence in his story. At night, through 
 the influence of the writer, the sergeant was invited to 
 supper at Freeman's, and we all chatted pleasantly with 
 him until word came that his dusky friends were awaiting 
 him in the road, when he bade us good-bye, with many 
 thanks and with well-filled haversack. A proposition 
 for the writer to join them met with a piteous protest 
 from Jim, and fierce opposition from the Freemans ; 
 besides, the sergeant agreed that on such expeditions 
 u the fewer the better." Mutual messages were given 
 for delivery within the Federal lines. The writer never 
 heard of the sergeant afterward. 
 
 October 3. The road is almost blocked to-day with 
 the wagons of fleeing refugees, who tell tales of woe, 
 and endeavor to induce a general flight before the 
 advancing enemy. Siss gathers the information from 
 them that Sherman and Hood are "playing chess" in 
 rear of Atlanta, but that Yankee infantry had driven the 
 Confederates from Flat Shoals (a point nearly midway 
 
OF THE WAR. 159 
 
 between Freeman's and Atlanta). Mr. Gleaton is hur- 
 riedly repairing his wagons, preparatory to joining the 
 general flight of refugees. His negroes are also arrang- 
 ing to retreat the other way. Freeman's family, like 
 all the "poor white trash," is to be cruelly left to the 
 mercy of the hideous foe. 
 
 October 4. A clear, mild, beautiful day. Siss sagely 
 remarked, "It isn't necessary for us to keep in-doors 
 just because there's so many frightened fools outside." 
 Accordingly, clad in Betsy's dress and protected by 
 a projecting sun-bonnet, Siss, Nancy, and the writer 
 repeated the experiment of travelling the road for mus- 
 cadines and grapes. En route to the vines we were met 
 by a corpulent gent, mounted, and clad in butternut. 
 "A neighbor," whispered Siss, as he approached us. 
 He gallantly raised his hat and smiled pleasantly as he 
 passed us, manifestly mistaking the writer for Betsy. 
 "What if he stops at the house, and sees Betsy?" 
 asked the writer. "He may stop at the house," said 
 Siss, "but he can't see Betsy ma's arranged all 
 that." (Sagacious old lady.) "He's an old rebel for 
 you bitter as gall." We reached the vines, crossing 
 Honey Creek on a log, and soon gathered our baskets 
 full. The writer cut a very ridiculous figure in attempt- 
 ing to climb the trees over which the vines ran, to shake 
 off the fruit ; but his awkwardness and accidents attrib- 
 
160 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 utable to surplus " dry-goods only created the more 
 merriment for the part}^. When returning, we were met 
 on the road by Mig, who had been sent to warn us that 
 "Tommy Gleaton " was at the house, ostensibly for the 
 purpose of assisting Mr. F. work, but whose real object 
 doubtless was to hunt some negroes who had recently 
 run away from his father. The woods, consequently, 
 were deemed unsafe. Upon observing our approach, 
 Mrs. Freeman, under some pretence, induced " Tommy " 
 to accompany her to the kitchen-building, across the 
 yard, while the writer, with the other girls, safely 
 entered the residence and protection. 
 
 October 5. Open question : "What is Tommy's secret 
 mission?" (He innocently slept under the same roof 
 with the writer last night.) Extra caution was based 
 upon our inability to solve the question. "Headquar- 
 ters" to-day stretched on a pallet spread under the 
 bed of the "spare room." While the young object 
 of suspicion was in the field with Mr. F., the writer 
 inspected his little squirrel- rifle he had left in the house ; 
 handy little piece nicely finished light ; throws round 
 ball ; indications of being much used ; no match for my 
 carbine; like most rifles dependent for efficiency on 
 the stuff behind it. During the evening, as this proprie- 
 tor's son sat chatting before the grand hearth-fire in the 
 dining-room, the writer embraced the opportunity of a 
 
OF THE WAR. 161 
 
 closer inspection of his person, from without, through an 
 open rear-door Siss kindly acting as a screen. Tall, 
 slim figure ; smooth, beardless face ; say, about nineteen ; 
 long legs ; great feet out of all manner of proportion ; 
 wears the great luxury of boots ; mystery how he can 
 4 'navigate'* in bad weather, encumbered with such 
 valises; sits in the house with his soft hat on (manners) ; 
 *' sweet " on the girls ; " snubbed twenty times a day ; " 
 forced to do most of his talking to the " old lady ;" good 
 shot on squirrels frequently shoots them through the 
 head. Desperately hates any thing blue; "can vanquish 
 five Yankees." Boasting boy ! (Like wine, " Tommy " 
 has doubtless improved with age. ) Is to stay again all 
 night to-night; suspicions again aroused. The writer 
 proposes to sleep in one of the negro cabins. "No." 
 In the woods, then? "No." In the house? "Yes." 
 But if Tommy should have confederates or friends out- 
 side, to enter at midnight? Ingenuity of the girls never 
 "at sea." "You shall sleep with us." After the 
 writer had partially recovered from the sudden shock 
 produced by this announcement, he, in bewilderment, 
 inquired of them, "What! With you?" (Profuse 
 blushes at his stupidity, illy concealed by subdued 
 laughter.) "Yes, on a pallet in our room ; you'll be safe 
 there, for no gentlemen would attempt to intrude into 
 the privacy and bed-chamber of young ladies, for any 
 purpose." The writer's attempt at relief by a proposi- 
 
 11 
 
162 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 tion to retreat to Gleaton's or Aunt Mary's, met with an 
 emphatic " no such thing." By the unanimous approval 
 and assistance of the family, the writer's natural modesty 
 was overcome, and he cheerfully "accepted the situa- 
 tion;" and, at the proper time, was ensconced in the 
 safe and novel retreat, in half-undress uniform resting 
 securely on the pallet in one corner of the room while 
 the three girls slumbered in their accustomed bed in the 
 other corner. There were a few whispered remarks made 
 by the trio of amused girls, about the " flank movement " 
 made on suspicion ; a whispered defiance ; suppressed 
 laughter; a calm, motherly injunction from Mrs. F., in 
 the adjoining chamber, to -'be quiet, girls; " suppressed 
 tittering, which soon subsided, and all became quiet 
 lulled in the soothing arms of Morpheus. 
 
 October 6. Last evening was the time appointed by the 
 writer positively to start for the Federal lines with Jim, 
 but he did not appear, and his absence is the cause of no 
 little apprehension. Now muse we on this theory : "Jim 
 has been caught, threatened, questioned, and compelled 
 to account for his presence in the neighborhood, and 
 under promise of good treatment, delivered his secret. 
 Young Gleaton is but a spy, or entering wedge, to effect 
 a 'lodgement' in the Yankee's 'headquarters,' whom 
 he expected to ' run against ' last evening ; it being the 
 appointed time to start with captured Jim. He had 
 
OF THE WAR. 163 
 
 ample assistance, no doubt, near at hand, and perhaps rebel 
 soldiers, who were to ' move forward ' at a given signal, 
 and all make neighborhood heroes of themselves by cap- 
 turing a live, armed Yankee." "Believe it? Of course 
 not; but don't it look as if it might be so?" inquired the 
 writer of Siss, who had patiently listened, with credulous 
 glances, bat who promptly replied, with flashing eyes, 
 which never looked so beautiful before, "They couldn't 
 take you while I lived never ! " 
 
 "But they would brush you away like a cobweb. 
 Please help me to retain the little ' ounce of prevention,' 
 and you'll not be troubled, in desperation, to attempt a 
 'cure.'' The writer assured his friends that he fully 
 realized that he was armed, determined, and desperate as 
 a "rat in a corner," and that if any persons succeeded 
 in reaping "honors " at his expense, it would be for him 
 to see that they well earned them. His often-announced 
 plan was to alwa3 r s retreat as far as possible, and only to 
 fight when absolutely unavoidable. But whether in, 
 retreat or fight, so long as he possessed arms he never 
 intended to surrender. The utmost caution is to be exer- 
 cised until Jim's failure to appear last evening, according 
 to programme, be fully accounted for, and it be deter- 
 mined whether his absence is in any way connected with 
 the other's presence. About noon we experienced a 
 genuine sensation: "The Yankees are coming the 
 Yankees are here!" Tommy Gleaton, who was in the 
 
164 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 house at the time, will remember well how he uncere- 
 moniously "skedaddled" to the woods, much to the 
 amusement of the family and the writer, who was excitedly 
 summoned from his concealment to meet the blue-coats. 
 He glanced up the road, and sure enough, there they 
 came the blue-coats! A nearer approach developed 
 that they were unarmed. "Prisoners!" flashed across 
 his mind; caution enjoined; they near they pass the 
 house twenty, at least ; four mounted Confederates fol- 
 low behind them. Subdued feeling of indignation that 
 four can guard twenty through lonely marches on unfre- 
 quented roads twenty healthy, stout, coffee-drinking 
 blue-coats meekly submitting to the guardianship of four 
 sleepy-looking "grays." Raining hard wet, muddy, 
 slippery poor fellows ! It was dark before Tommy 
 discovered his mistake, and no one took interest enough 
 to search for him in the woods and rain. He returned 
 with clothing wet through, and his attention was occupied 
 for a considerable length of time in drying them. Pur- 
 suant to previous arrangement, he, with two of his young 
 friends, after supper, departed with dogs, rifles, and 
 torches, on a "coon-hunt." Great suspicion that they 
 are playing " patrollers," and hunting two-legged coons. 
 Their departure afforded the family and writer great 
 relief, and all misgivings vanished as. the welcome 
 announcement was made that Jim, the renegade, had put 
 in an appearance, equipped and ready for a march. The 
 
OF THE WAR. 165 
 
 writer sought him, and after numerous lame excuses for 
 absence, he announced himself ready to " move on our 
 lines " to-night. Agreed. The writer announced this 
 intention to the family, all of whom rather looked upon 
 the undertaking as extremely hazardous ; but he was 
 impatient, and determined to wait upon uncertainties no 
 longer. First he bade his colored friends a last farewell, 
 then final preparations were made for departure. Three 
 locks of hair ; two cloth haversacks made by Siss, and 
 well filled one with wheat biscuits and roasted pork, 
 the other containing a change of underclothing provided 
 by herself the carbine, and additional ammunition for 
 the same, manufactured by appropriating and placing the 
 powder from rebel cartridges behind Union bullets. The 
 cartridges taken by the negro runaway from the cartridge- 
 box of the Union cavalryman drowned during Kilpatrick's 
 raid had been, of course, wet, and the powder had 
 "caked," and was unreliable; but brown paper, Confed- 
 erate powder, linen thread, and combined ingenuity soon 
 put dry Confederate powder in " position" to speed 
 Union bullets through a Yankee carbine. Military maps 
 of the country printed on linen cloth, pocket-compass, 
 canteen, diary, and small pencil comprised the "baggage" 
 of the writer (most of which he now possesses as relics 
 of the trip). The writer then prepared and handed to 
 Mr. Freeman written acknowledgments of his loyalty 
 and kindness, commending his family to the favor- 
 
16G A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 able consideration of all Federal officers and soldiers. 
 The announcement that Jim was "waiting at the gate," 
 created a flutter, and plainly disclosed the fact that 
 pent-up feelings could not be concealed much longer. 
 The little gray cape was hurriedly adjusted, the trusty 
 loaded carbine seized, a shower of thanks tendered, 
 a last " farewell" uttered, a sudden start for the open 
 door, and the threatened storm burst forth. Siss, with- 
 out uttering a word, suddenly threw her arms about the 
 writer's neck and sobbed aloud. Then the "floods" 
 came, and the whole circle wept. What! moisture on 
 the cheeks of a soldier deemed fit for desperate under- 
 takings? Brush it away, and prove superior to circum- 
 stances before which women quail. The poor girl's ex- 
 planation of her conduct was: "I have a gloomy pre- 
 sentiment that danger and harm await you, and that you 
 will never see your home and friends again. Do not go ; 
 stay where we know you are safe wait for your folks to 
 come here." The others added their advice to wait in 
 safety. The writer replied that it was beyond him to 
 express his gratitude for their kindness and sympathy, and 
 the interest they took in him, but reminded them that since 
 July 22d he had been striving to reach the Federal lines ; 
 that he had now waited for our cavalry more than a month, 
 and prospects of their coming seem lessening; that he 
 now deemed it his duty to make this effort, dangerous as 
 it might seem ; but that his mind was made up, and he 
 
OF THE WAR. 167 
 
 felt almost strong enough to force his way to his lines 
 if necessary ; and, besides this, his friends in the army 
 and at home could not have the faintest idea of his where- 
 abouts. "Now, consider all these things, and feel with 
 me that I ought to go." The argument met the only 
 response of deep, expressive sobs. There was a moment 
 of silent sadness, and the writer stepped out upon the 
 porch, urging, "Now bid me a cheerful, last good-bye." 
 The family followed to the porch ; each one save Mr. F. 
 bestowed a parting kiss. Mrs. F. said "Good-bye, 
 George ; I feel as sad as though I was parting from my 
 own son." The sobbing young ladies and Mig could 
 only mutter " Good-bye." 
 
 " You sadly press the hands of those 
 Who thus in love caress you, 
 And soul responsive beats to soul 
 In breathing out, ' God bless you.' " 
 
 But resolution, firmness, courage, must supplant ten- 
 derer feelings now. I must 
 
 " Hide this feeling at the heart, 
 And bid a careless, light good-bye." 
 
 The writer was now at the gate with his companion, 
 Jim. Mr. Freeman accompanied the writer a few yards 
 down the road, tightly clasping one of his hands in his 
 own, expressing hopes of success, and many thanks for 
 the poor returns for generosity and sympathy of his fam- 
 ily. He assured him that his family could never forget 
 him, and would always look back with intense interest 
 
168 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 and pleasure to the days he had spent at his house ; now 
 a long, strong, earnest "shake," and Mr. F. returned. 
 The writer paused an instant, looked back gratefully at 
 the receding light in the window, and the loud sobbings 
 of grief-stricken Siss were the last sounds he heard at 
 Freeman's. With an instinctive dread, we penetrated the 
 gloom of the night, continually casting longing glances 
 behind at the friendly light in the window, growing fainter 
 and fainter, until lost to our view. The dark curtain of 
 night falls behind us on an immediate past of grateful 
 and pleasant memories, and there's a dark one before us 
 about to rise on an immediate future of we know not 
 what. We now marched rapidly northward, speechless. 
 Thoughts driven to the front rush to the rear. Expe- 
 riences bearing the stamp of romance : romantic intro- 
 duction ; extended protection ; genuine sympathy ; un- 
 dissembled interest ; unlooked-for kindness ; willing sac- 
 rifices ; poor, but true to the old flag. Thoughts flashing 
 in vivid recall of chief incidents of the stay at Free- 
 man's. Ne'er did one leave "home" with more regret; 
 ne'er was one followed by purer sympathy. That evil 
 presentiment. Don't believe in 'em? Nor I; but still 
 haunted by that earnest plea to heed the solemn warning 
 of another. A hasty summing-up results in entertaining 
 sincere regrets at parting from friends and safety, to face 
 unknown dangers. However, a motion to reconsider was 
 immediately ruled out of order. 
 
OF THE WAR. 169 
 
 " To the front! to the front we speed." 
 
 Six miles from Freeman's, we reach the junction of the 
 Lithonia road, which extends north-westwardly to the vil- 
 lage of Lithonia, and the railroad leading to Atlanta. 
 Here, beside a large log near the road, we take our first 
 rest since leaving Freeman's. A short reverie: to be cut 
 off or driven from one's base of supplies is always to be 
 considered as among the most deplorable of military con- 
 tretemps, but a voluntary permanent abandonment of the 
 same can very rarely be justified ; but we are firm in the 
 belief that our " abandonment" and this final desperate 
 attempt -are at least fully warranted. Our rest was a 
 short one, after which we proceeded across the fields to 
 the cabin of a friendly negro, who had been recommended 
 to us as " true." We arouse him ; he responds ; rubs his 
 eyes and stretches himself, and lazily yawns out that he's 
 "mighty glad" to see us. After the usual formalities 
 and congratulations, and additional assurances that he was 
 really awake, the writer inquired of him, 
 
 " Where are the Yankee forces now? " 
 
 " Dey's at Decatur, six miles dis side of Atlanta. But 
 you'd better look sharp, honies, 'case dere's lots o' dese 
 yere Texas rangers roaming 'bout yere huntin' runaway 
 niggers and deserters ; 'twill go mighty hard wid yer if 
 yer cotched! " 
 
 " Don't you think we can push through? " 
 
170 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 (Shaking his head.) "Dunno, boys; dey's pretty 
 sharp. ' ' 
 
 " Suppose we take to the fields then, entirely? " 
 
 (Still shaking his head.) " Dunno; I 'vise yer to go 
 back, boys ; jus about impossible to git throo Texas 
 fellers a hard lot." 
 
 "We'll not go back, uncle; we've been back once 
 we're bound the other way now." 
 
 Bidding him adieu, and thanking him for his little in- 
 formation and poor advice, we consulted our compass 
 with the assistance of friendly fire-flies, ascertained the 
 direction desired, and as a mark of our profound respect 
 for the "Texas rangers," concluded to avoid the roads 
 altogether. We trudged onward through the fields, scal- 
 ing fences, tramping through soft, muddy cornfields, 
 fording creeks, tearing through woods and briers, until 
 the brightening eastern sky warned us of approaching 
 daylight of 
 
 October 7. Lithonia, and the Northern Georgia Rail- 
 road only three miles away! A retired spot in dense 
 woods furnishes rest and "headquarters" for the day. 
 We discover that we are near a log cabin, isolated from 
 any plantation } humble habitation of the poor second 
 and last in the order of trust. Blacks preferred ; poor 
 whites well, "mixed;" no sounds nothing to indi- 
 
OF THE WAR. 171 
 
 cate occupancy save the blue smoke curling gracefully 
 from the mud-plastered chimney. We must take the 
 risk, however, of obtaining information of the occupants. 
 Leaving Jim in the woods, the writer circled around 
 and cautiously approached the cabin from the opposite 
 direction, vainly listening for sounds and watching for 
 signs of life, but attracting no attention until reaching 
 the very threshold of the open door. Within wfere a 
 white woman with pleasant features, and several small 
 children. They gazed speechlessly at the early-morning 
 intruder, in apparent amazement. 
 
 The writer smilingly accosted her with, "Good morn- 
 ing, madam, no cause for alarm." 
 
 "Oh! " said she, somewhat flustered, "Good morning, 
 sir; excuse our appearance we just got up, sir." 
 
 "Not the least consequence, madam; I just stopped 
 to inquire if you had seen any Federals about here 
 lately?" 
 
 "Lor' no, sir, they've all done gone; we've more 
 of you-uns nowadays." 
 
 " Who do you mean by ' you-uns? ' " 
 
 "Why, you Confederates, what steal every thing a 
 poor woman has got ; them's who I mean ! " 
 
 " Well, you seem to like the Yankees better than Con- 
 federates ; why didn't you go off with 'em? " 
 
 "The Yankees never done me as much dirt as you- 
 uns ; they're much better-behaved folks." 
 
172 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 "Well, madam, I'm not a Confederate I'm a Yan- 
 kee!" (She looked steadily at the writer an instant, 
 then slowly shook her head incredulously.) Casting back 
 over the shoulders the little gray cape which had con- 
 cealed the blue, and exposing the Federal uniform to her 
 view, the writer asked, "Well, what do you think now?" 
 She gazed steadily at the glistening buttons and shoul- 
 der-straps which decorated the uniform, looked suspi- 
 ciously into the writer's face, and suddenly responded, 
 "No fooling, now; are you a Yankee, sure enough?" 
 The writer assured her that he was, and briefly explained 
 his absence from his command. She continued, "You 
 don't look like our folks, nor talk like 'em." The writer 
 offered additional evidence of his being a genuine Yankee, 
 and the lady finally expressed herself as satisfied of the 
 justness of his claim. Then she freely expressed herself 
 in still stronger terms of condemnation of the Confeder- 
 ates, and finally declared her partiality for " blue-coats." 
 She kindly invited the writer to " set up and take break- 
 fast of what the Confederates have left us," which invi- 
 tation was gratefully accepted. ('Twill save our rations. ) 
 During breakfast she told the writer her story of her hus- 
 band, who was drafted into the rebel army, but was taken 
 sick and died at the Confederate hospital at Chattanooga. 
 She said, "I'm glad to say he never did 'em any good, and 
 never fired a gun agin the old flag. I tell 'em the Yan- 
 kees will whip 'em all badly yet. I don't see how it is, 
 
OF THE WAR. 173 
 
 but by their tell the Yankees were going to be driven and 
 driven. Our folks were always drivin' 'em, and drivin' 
 'em, and the Yankees kept all the time coming nearer 
 and nearer, and now our folks have driven 'em plumb 
 into Atlanta; there's somethin' wrong somewhere." The 
 writer carefully observed, but recognized no indication of 
 deception in her earnest manner, and concluded he had 
 found another white person worthy of confidence and 
 trust. 
 
 " Is this your son?" asked the writer, concerning the 
 eldest of the children, a boy about thirteen years of age. 
 
 " Yes, sir, that's my oldest boy." (Introducing him.) 
 
 He seemed to possess the requisite amount of intelli- 
 gence and gumption. 
 
 "Would you permit him to do me a favor, without 
 betraying my secret presence here? " 
 
 " Certainly, sir; anything he can do he will do. What 
 is it?" 
 
 " How far is it to Lithonia? " 
 
 " Wellnigh on to three mile." 
 
 " Could he go there and find out if any, and how many, 
 Confederates are there ; or if any Yankees were there 
 lately?" 
 
 "Certainly, sir; certainly he can." The writer cau- 
 tioned him: "Now be careful, my boy; don't hint to a 
 soul that you've seen me, or a blue uniform." He gave 
 satisfactory assurances of fidelity and secrecy, and was 
 
174 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 soon on the road to the village, receiving a motherly 
 injunction of secrecy as a "send-off." The writer 
 expressed his sincere thanks for the sympatlry expressed 
 and the kindness received at the hands of the lady, chatted 
 pleasantly with the children a few moments, explained 
 the presence of Jim in the woods as his companion 
 and guide, and promising to return at sunset, rejoined 
 Jim in the retreat of the forest, passing from sight east- 
 wardly and circling around to the retreat, west of the 
 cabin the usual plan adopted to put "off scent" both 
 observed and unobserved observers. The day was spent 
 in rather gloomy reverie. Thoughts of the past flitted 
 through the mind: terrible battle of July 22d "hell 
 of scenes and noises" the ghastly dead. That the 
 old Army of the Tennessee should be driven from its 
 works ! Extrordinary reasons, eh ? Fire from the rear, 
 and being flanked by a column charging through the rail- 
 road cut; that a portion of the line should be driven 
 back, then, under any circumstances, however aggravat- 
 ing, leaving those who remain at their posts longest to 
 be "gobbled." Consolation that the lost ground was 
 immediately regained ; still, that glorious fact don't 
 restore me to my command. And comrades in the old 
 army, and friends at home what do they think of this 
 mysterious absence? August 22d was one month ; Septem- 
 ber 22d was two months ; October 7th two months and a 
 half. Two months and a half since a view of the old colors 
 
OF THE WAR. 175 
 
 waving through the smoke of battle ; how much brighter 
 would they appear to me now ! How did the General and 
 balance of the staff come out of the battle ? How did the 
 old Sixth Missouri Infantry get through officers and 
 men, and my company? and what experiences have they 
 all had since the battle and separation? And relatives 
 at home are they dead or alive ? Did co-prisoners yet 
 reach our lines and tell of my escape ? A reverie of ques- 
 tions only ; responses blank blank blank ! Dead 
 to everything and everybody in the world save imme- 
 diate desolate surroundings. It seems a long, long time 
 since the battle. I wonder how they've put a fellow on 
 the muster-rolls "killed, " u wounded," "captured," 
 or " missing? " Oh for a safe transit to our lines ! Now 
 the long shadows of evening silently creep through the 
 woods, and thousands of little warblers, most mugical at 
 close of day, are vieing with each other in sweet rendi- 
 tion of evening songs. Golden flood of sunlight ; even- 
 ing's balmy hour dusk. 
 
 "Footsteps of angels follow in her trace, 
 To shut the weary eye of day in peace." 
 
 Dusky landscape; objects more and more indistinct. 
 44 Voices of the night." Nature's late evening concert 
 in contrast with that of the sweet warblers, who have all 
 hushed upon the approach of night frogs, crickets, 
 whippoorwills. 
 
 Dark. Pursuant to promise, we repair to the friendly 
 
176 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 cabin of the "anti-Confederate" lady for the coveted 
 information. " Good evening ;" introduction to Jim ; 
 seeking the desired information. The boy replied : 
 
 "I only saw two Confederate cavalrymen in gray 
 coats and pants, who were getting their horses shod at 
 the blacksmith's; no Yankees 'bout for a long time." 
 
 Thanking the lady and her son for their kindness and 
 interest and services, we bade them farewell, and started 
 for the village of Lithonia. Safe no force there ; only 
 three miles northward. Forward! No star visible but 
 the star of hope ; but the dense fog upon the earth we 
 welcome as a friendly cover, and speed on. We have 
 certainly marched more than three miles, but where is the 
 village ? No sounds ; no lights. The trusty little com- 
 pass is consulted. What! has the compass turned 
 rebel, or does it tell us truly that we are travelling south- 
 ward? A vigorous shaking fails to shake the compass 
 from its position, and with characteristic indifference it 
 maintains its assertion that we are facing south. We 
 had followed a bend in an intersecting wood, and were 
 unable to detect it sooner by reason of the dense fog. 
 Negligence ; what do we carry a compass for ? Fog 
 slightly clearing ; log cabin near by ; we approach ; a 
 rap at the door ; it was slowly opened by a plainly attired 
 lady; family inside, of ladies and children. Without 
 explanation, the writer simply inquired for the shortest 
 cut to the main Lithonia road. A small obscure path was 
 
OF THE WAR. 177 
 
 pointed out as one leading directly to it, across the fields. 
 ^'Thanks, madam;" off; the family somewhat agitated, 
 crowd to the door, and peer through the darkness at our 
 retreating forms. Headless family, as usual ; wonder 
 where all the men are? Rapid marching to make up 
 for lost time constitutes our self-inflicted punishment for 
 stupidity. The fog has risen, and we can clearly dis- 
 tinguish the houses of the village looming up above 
 the foliage, in dull relief against the star-lit sky. We 
 ascend a knoll near the suburbs, and are now in full view 
 of the village. Halt ! listen ! No sounds save the bark- 
 ing of the faithful watch-dogs of the sleeping village, and 
 the shrill whistle of the whippoorwills surrounding us ; 
 silent as the grave. "There's the road that will lead us 
 straight to the railroad." To circle around the town will 
 -consume too much time, and incur greater risk of pur- 
 suit, if discovered off the road ; even the dogs would 
 bark louder at us. We determine to proceed in the 
 middle of the road, single file writer ahead and 
 inarch silently and rapidly for the railroad. "Time is 
 precious, and we must reach Decatur and our lines by 
 daybreak, only fifteen miles away." Fatigued, footsore, 
 but determined, we proceeded in the execution of the 
 programme, and had safely reached a point within three 
 blocks of the coveted railroad, when two large dogs, scent- 
 ing us, came into the road and barked furiously at us, 
 while we increased our pace ; one of the dogs alternately 
 
 12 
 
178 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 howling dismally ; shortly afterward, two white men 
 emerged into the road, both coatless, and briskly fol- 
 lowed us, manifestly endeavoring to overtake us. The 
 writer and Jim now marched together in the retreat, but 
 the pursuers seemed decidedly to gain on them. Instinc- 
 tively the hammer of the writer's carbine was raised with 
 a sharp u click/' and a little closet contact would have 
 necessitated a turning and a challenge of these appar- 
 ently unarmed curiosity-hunters ; as it was, we succeeded 
 in maintaining a proper distance without so dangerous an 
 expedient. We now saw our opportunity, rapidly passed 
 to the sidewalk, glided behind a church, swiftly over a 
 fence or two, circled around toward the railroad, reach- 
 ing another road, and thus escaped further pursuit or 
 observation. As we now cautiously approached the rail- 
 road, we discovered before us a fire by the roadside ; we 
 pause listen observe. There are men about the fire ; 
 what if they should be blue-coats? Single file stealthy 
 approach ; the tell-tale camp-fire now clearly discloses- 
 uniforms of gray. Another circling-around process 
 through the fields, after all our pains to avoid them, 
 and finally two tired, jaded, sore-footed, but happy 
 and grateful tramps stood upon the coveted Northern 
 Georgia Railroad, west of Lithonia safe. " I wonder 
 where that boy's eyes were, who told us, ' no soldiers in 
 town?'" Jim pleaded for "rest, rest; " but there's no 
 rest long after midnight, and Decatur fifteen miles 
 
OF THE WAR. 179 
 
 away. "We are on the home-stretch now, Jim, and 
 we must completely wear ourselves out in order to reach 
 our lines." No halting, no resting, no lagging; we are 
 between the lines of the two armies, and daylight will 
 find us at Decatur, or worse. On we speed, and after 
 a long, speechless, rapid march, in single file, north- west- 
 wardly on the railroad, we rested just a moment, and 
 were again in rapid motion. We were now marching 
 very rapidly, and resting but a short moment at long 
 intervals ; excellent time ; buoyancy of spirits despite 
 raw and bleeding feet. Onward! Onward! Jim, by 
 extra effort, overtakes the writer and renews his pleading; 
 for rest, muttering " I's worn out; I can't stand dis ;; 
 my feet's gin out," etc. Pleading " overruled ; " there's, 
 no halt no rest; half running, leaping along from tie^ 
 to tie, like steeds fresh from the stable. Now grand old 
 Stone Mountain looms up against the dim-lit western sky ; 
 we rapidly approach we pass it. On, on we flee, until 
 speed is finally lessened by caution an object ahead ; 
 it's a frame house immediately beside the track. Slack- 
 ened speed stealthy approach a halt. We listen; 
 no sounds but our own labored breathing. We rest 
 stretching our weary, worn frames on the track-bed, and 
 relieving our raw, blistered, and bleeding feet from the 
 weight of our bodies for a moment, preparatory to the 
 fresh undertaking before us ; then up, and cautiously 
 onward again, slowly, in single file, approaching the sus- 
 
180 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 pected hut beside the track. A sharp turn in the railroad 
 freed us from gloomy timber, but suddenly disclosed a 
 camp-fire. An exceedingly cautious investigation dis- 
 closed a railroad-cut, with the banks of earth extending 
 upward on both sides of the track ten or twelve feet ; the 
 house loomed up beyond it ; the fire was on the opposite 
 summit of the hillock, near the opening made by the cut ; 
 suspicion that it's a picket-post commanding the railroad. 
 A slow, cautious approach of the writer on u all- fours " to 
 a favorable position, which discloses that around the fire 
 lie men in gray uniforms that's quite sufficient for our 
 purpose. Too tired and foot-sore to undertake the cus- 
 tomary tedious and circuitous route around them, and 
 deriving much comfort in the belief that it is the Con- 
 federate outpost, we determined to pass beneath them. 
 The situation was fully explained in whispers to Jim, 
 who was doubly cautioned of danger and of the neces- 
 sity of absolute silence, and the novel adventure began. 
 Single file, fifteen feet apart on "all-fours" the 
 writer leading, the two slowly and silently entered the 
 gloomy cut ; arose, hugged the earthen bank, and 
 safely passed twelve feet beneath the drowsy sentries. 
 We reached a safe position west of the fire, somewhat 
 worse for slimy mud, and halted opposite the house we 
 had seen before seeing the fire. It seems a safe distance 
 from the picket-post, and was separated from it by a 
 small ravine and the railroad; not a sound from it still 
 
OF THE WAR. 181 
 
 and dark as the grave. But morning is rapidly approach- 
 ing ; our chances are desperate. Leaving Jim beside the 
 railroad track, the writer stepped to the door, listened a 
 moment, then knocked. Sepulchral echoes only responded. 
 He knocked again, and louder, instinctively glancing in 
 the direction of the picket-fire, to detect any commotion 
 about it. A rustle inside signs of life. A gentleman 
 in "undress uniform" partially opened the door, and 
 inquired rather gruffly : 
 
 "Well, what's wanting?" 
 
 "Captain, how near is our picket-post here to the 
 Yankees? " 
 
 " Why, they're at Decatur yet; their pickets are about 
 a mile this side, on the railroad." 
 
 "Are you sure of that, Captain?" 
 
 "Well, they were there last night, for I see'd 'em." 
 
 Information considered reliable, and the writer turned 
 to leave, inwardly congratulating himself that he had not 
 been placed under the military necessity of prevarication, 
 pleasantly saying: "Thank you, sir sorry to disturb 
 you, Captain;" when the other rather authoritatively 
 blurted out, "Well, see 'ere, stranger who are you, 
 anyhow ? ' ' The writer, harsh in manner, but rather fright- 
 ened at the bottom, promptly replied, " Capt. Blake, of the 
 Thirty-fifth Georgia; and I want correct information, and 
 if you mislead us, down will come your house under- 
 stand?" "Oh, it's jest as I tell you, Captain; you'll 
 
182 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 find it so, Captain" (evidently swallowing the bait). 
 The writer anxiously peered toward the quiet, undis- 
 turbed picket-post ; then Jim was rejoined in a twinkle, 
 and away we joyfully flew Atlantaward "by rail!" 
 Decatur only four miles away ! Who our informant 
 was, whether soldier or hoosier, we know not and care 
 not. A mile-heat, and Jim renews his fretting at the 
 hardship: "Dis is too swift for my feet." But there 
 was no slackening of speed, no rest; away we speeded, 
 greatly stimulated by the latest intelligence, and vainly 
 endeavoring to forget the burning, itching, and scalding 
 sensations produced by torn and bloody feet ; leaping 
 cheerfully from tie to tie, Jim piteously urging, " I 
 can't keep up no use talking can't do it ! ' ' We halt 
 for a moment, only to agaai urge upon Jim the absolute 
 necessity of wearing our feet out in the attempt to reach 
 our lines and safety only three miles away! The 
 writer's feet were causing him great pain burning, 
 scalding, smarting, itching not a spot an inch square 
 of nature's covering on either foot; and the hard, irri- 
 tating leather of his boots, reddened by frequent wettings 
 and exposure, mercilessly lacerated the already torn 
 and bleeding flesh; their cruel harshness but partially 
 softened and appeased by the free offerings of bloody 
 feet ! Yet, what could he do ? He could not travel over 
 the gravelled road-bed nor through the fields barefoot ; 
 nothing can be gained by tearing still more the lacerated 
 
OF THE WAR. 183 
 
 flesh by pulling them off and on. There's but one con- 
 clusion there's no relief outside the Federal lines. 
 
 The brightening eastern sky reminds us of rapidly ap- 
 proaching day ; yet on with the march we must reach 
 Decatur at any cost. On, on limping and desperately 
 struggling westward ! Brighter and brighter grows the 
 early morning ; it is dawn. Broad da3^1ight now steals 
 upon us like an unwelcome guest, but still onward ; 
 sunrise "Old Sol" sheds forth his golden rays over 
 the landscape ; but still onward, onward ! We can now 
 see through the timber the houses of Decatur glorious 
 sight ! 
 
 We're only one mile from town ; but where are our 
 outposts? Still on and on we limp, and struggle, and 
 stagger, in desperation and hope. We now joyfully see 
 our breastworks ; no sounds no sights smoke curling 
 gracefully from behind them up through the foliage; 
 somebody must be there. Suddenly our attention is 
 called to the mysterious conduct and stealthy actions of 
 two white men near a residence to the south of us, and 
 about an eighth of a mile from the railroad one in gray, 
 the other in butternut ; one approaches the other from the 
 timber, and receives a small package ; breakfast ( ?) ; 
 they seem unmindful of us, who still continue our limp- 
 ing march in full view. Whoever they are, they seem 
 harmless, and their apparent timidity is our encourage- 
 ment. Now we enter the Federal fortifications extending 
 
184 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 across the railroad, a quarter of a mile east of the town,, 
 and find they are vacated camp-fires still smoking, but 
 the Federals gone. Smiling Hope had beckoned us on, 
 only to make despair the more certain. The coveted 
 Federal lines at last, and nothing to greet us but the 
 refuse of a camp and the smouldering remnants of camp- 
 fires which were kindled by friends ! Despondent 
 hungry foot-sore cheated exhausted chafed 
 irritated lacerated drooping in the gloom of fading 
 hopes. 
 
 " Weary of living, so weary ; 
 Longing to lie down and die ! " 
 
 Slowly, sadly, and silently we limp through the familiar 
 scenes of an abandoned camp, select a secluded nook in 
 the timber beyond it, and establish "headquarters" 
 for the day on the bank of a pearly little brooklet which 
 had furnished the prior occupants of the camp with water. 
 To proceed further seemed an absolute impossibility ; 
 with great difficulty, causing great pain, was Jim able to 
 pull the hardened boots from the writer's swollen and 
 bleeding feet. Thus we considered ourselves established 
 for 
 
 October 8. To remain here we knew would be extra 
 hazardous, but to depart impossible. 
 
 "Well, Jim," said the writer, despairingly, while bath- 
 ing his lacerated feet in the cool, flowing water of the 
 
OF THE WAR. 185 
 
 little rivulet, and breaking a long, gloomy silence, " you'd 
 better sleep while I keep guard ; you can take a good, 
 long sleep, and then watch while I sleep." Jim was 
 agreeable, and in an incredibly short period the immediate 
 vicinity became resonant with most unearthly snoring 
 sufficient to raise the dead! "Poor Jim," thought the 
 writer, as he viewed his prostrate form; "he thought it 
 would be fun to follow a Yankee to our lines." It was 
 neither sacrifice, nor preference, nor lot that secured for 
 Jim the first sleep after our "crowning effort." For 
 the writer, pain prohibited sleep, though the cooling 
 ripples of the streamlet manifestly allayed inflammation 
 and considerably lessened suffering. While Jim slept, 
 his companion in misery sat gloomily, half thinking, half 
 dreaming ; and while the refreshing waters played grate- 
 fully around his lacerated, useless feet, the tide of grief 
 seemed fast rising to overwhelm him. Bitter, bitter dis- 
 appointment touches the eyelids, and other streamlets 
 copiously flow to the music of the gurgling rivulet. 
 Morning dew-drops still linger, sparkling on the sur- 
 rounding foliage, and 
 
 " Tears are hung on every tree : 
 For thus my gloomy fantasy 
 Makes all things weep with me." 
 
 As the writer sat thus sadly musing, he observed a boy 
 of about thirteen approach, and suddenly start off in 
 another direction. He wears a full Federal uniform. Is 
 
186 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 he really a friend ? or did he discover us, and now retreats 
 to spread the secret? Such suspense and uncertainty not 
 to be willingly endured. Oh, the wonderfully attractive 
 power of blue cloth ! The writer was desperate enough 
 to trust in the deceptive cloth alone ; he limpingly 
 approached the wearer of it barefooted, bareheaded, 
 coatless and overtook and hailed the youth in blue. 
 He turned, apparently much surprised, and gazed at the 
 coatless, hatless challenger, and looked sympathetically 
 at his swollen, bleeding feet. The writer inquired : 
 " Who are you, my friend? " 
 
 "I'm a native here, sir don't belong to the army." 
 " What are you doing with that uniform on, then? " 
 
 "I was employed by Lieut. , quartermaster 
 
 on Gen. Cox's staff, Twentieth Army Corps." 
 " Gen. Cox of the Federal army ? " 
 "Yes, sir." 
 "Whereabouts?" 
 
 "Here in Decatur, sir, where they were stationed." 
 " When did they leave, bub ? " (Patronizingly. ) 
 "Dunno; sometime last night. They were here last 
 night and gone this morning; that's all I know, sir." 
 (Torturing information. ) 
 
 "Do yon know what I am, bub? " (Smiling.) 
 " Oh yes, sir; I know you're a Federal by your blue 
 pants." 
 
 Are you friendly to the Federals ? ' ' 
 
 t ; 
 
OF THE WAR. 187 
 
 4 'Yes, sir; always was friendly." 
 
 "Well, you see I'm in distress; will you do me the 
 favor of finding out for me whether the Federals have 
 left Atlanta too, if possible, by inquiring around Deca- 
 tur and bringing me word here at dark to-night? " 
 
 "Yes, sir; I'll do all I can for you." (Casting piteous 
 glances at the "worthless feet.) " I'll find out, sir." 
 
 "Now let me caution you, bub, not to speak of my 
 presence here to a living soul ; can I trust you for that? " 
 "Yes, sir; you can trust me. I won't tell, sir." 
 " Well, I rely upon your honor now, and trust you." 
 "You can trust me, sir. I'll be back near dark." 
 And nodding adieu, he was soon lost to view through 
 the woods. Alas ! that forced interview. It was now 
 after noon, by sun ; the writer painfully limped back to 
 "headquarters," and awakening Jim, apprised him of 
 what had occurred. We then took the usual precaution to 
 change our "headquarters," whence we could, unobserved, 
 observe any approach to the old one. The writer's turn 
 now came to welcome sleep. Feet less painful, but fear- 
 fully swollen. How far did we march last night? Let's 
 see : three miles to Lithonia, three miles out of our way 
 and return that's six and three are nine, and fifteen 
 to Decatur that's twei^-four, and at least three 
 measured in circling around the village and obstacles 
 that's twenty-seven miles ; equal at least to thirty-seven 
 under favorable circumstances. Jim agrees fully. 
 
188 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 "Now, Jim, remember and shake me well upon the 
 least suspicious sound or sight ; keep your ears and eyes 
 wide open ; we're in a dangerous place, but we have this 
 little breech-loader (carbine), and can, if necessary, 
 force a halt of any thing short of a crotvd at a respectful 
 distance, if } r ou 'waken me in time. Now be cautious, 
 Jim." 
 
 " Oh, I'm suttain to do it suttain to do it." 
 
 The writer placed the loaded carbine beside him, 
 propped his feet up from the ground, and almost instantly 
 became unconscious in the soothing embrace of sweet 
 sleep. Alas, alas ! that sleep. Fitful dreams of armies, 
 and woods, and negroes, restored feet, home and friends, 
 passed through the mind of the exhausted sleeper, who 
 had placed implicit reliance in the diligence of his rested 
 companion, until he was suddenly awakened by an ex- 
 clamation, in a loud tone of voice, "Halloo, there! " 
 
 Opening his eyes, he beheld, standing at his feet, a man 
 in a butternut uniform double-breasted coat, with two 
 rows of brass buttons, slouch hat, and wild eye. "My 
 God! my God! what does this mean?" He took de- 
 liberate aim down the barrel of his rifle at the motionless 
 writer's breast, and excitedly demanded, "Surrender?" 
 The writer looked the excited butternut square in the face, 
 but uttered not a word. "Where is Jim?" Slightly 
 turning his head, he observed another person, in a Federal 
 uniform, armed with a rifle, and standing guard over Jim, 
 
OF THE WAR. 189 
 
 a few yards distant. (Disparaging compound of mysti- 
 fication and mortification. "How did this happen?") 
 "Well," asked the butternut, "what do you say?" 
 "Am I to be treated as a prisoner of war, sir? " 
 " Oh, certainly, sir; most assuredly, sir." 
 "Well, I see no alternative; I'm your prisoner, sir." 
 Now, how did this happen ? Turning to Jim, the writer, 
 perhaps rather sharply, inquired : 
 "Jim, how did this happen?" 
 
 " Well, Lieutenant, you might a-known I'd fall asleep 
 when de warm sun struck me." Indignation at white 
 heat, threatening to burst the bands of poor concealment ; 
 but indignation cannot restore freedom ; anger cannot 
 mend affairs. Well, discretion may " take the reins " if 
 it can hold the team. But Jim fell asleep ; Jim, who has 
 slept all morning ; Jim, who was fully apprised of 
 danger; Jim, who was "certain to watch." "Ah! Jim, 
 Jim, that confidence could be so misplaced in you!" 
 The butternut now gathered the writer's carbine, care- 
 fully examined it, replaced the cap with one of his own, 
 and seemed more at ease. The writer said : 
 " That cap was not put on to miss fire, sir." 
 "Likel}', but I'd rather trust one of my own." 
 The following conversation then substantially occurred, 
 which the writer feels certain will be recognized as correct 
 by all who heard or participated in it. The butternut was 
 the spokesman ; the one in blue was evidently subordinate, 
 
190 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 and simply "seconded motions." Said the former to 
 the writer, 
 
 " What is your rank, sir and regiment? " 
 
 " First Lieutenant, A. D. C. on Second Division staff, 
 Fifteenth Army Corps ; my regiment is the Sixth Missouri 
 Infantry." 
 
 "From Missouri, eh? That's one of our States, and 
 you fighting on the other side, eh ? 
 
 " That's hardly fair, sir. Missouri fought herself into 
 the Union, although a slave State, and those on the Union 
 side think she deserves all the more credit for it. Mis- 
 souri's my native State; I'm not ashamed of her record 
 in this war." 
 
 "You say you were born in Missouri? " 
 
 "Yes, sir in St. Louis." 
 
 The two captors smiled at each other incredulously. 
 
 "What's your name?" 
 
 "Bailey's my name, sir and yours?" 
 
 "Foster." The one in blue looked suddenly and 
 sharply around at " Foster " had he inadvertently 
 given his real name? 
 
 But in subsequent conversation, why was the name of 
 " Fowler " substituted for that of " Foster " by the un- 
 reserved ' ' boy in blue ? ' ' The stupid disclosure of the 
 latter is considered superior authority to the guarded 
 answer of "Foster," hence our hero in butternut will be 
 designated as "Fowler." 
 
 
OF THE WAR. 191 
 
 Since the recapture, the writer's almost uncontrollable 
 indignation boiled at the sight of that blue uniform. It 
 found partial vent when he turned sharply to the wearer 
 and asked: 
 
 "What do you think would become of you, sir, if 
 caught by our troops engaged in this business in a blue 
 uniform?" With guilty look he replied: " Well, in the 
 first place, sir, I don't intend to be caught; this is our 
 business, you know." 
 
 "Very questionable and dangerous sort of business." 
 
 A new light dawned upon the writer's mind as he 
 mused : ' ' This blue uniform was to be used as decoy to 
 capture me, if awake ; it was to entice to a ' friend ' only 
 to disclose a treacherous foe." 
 
 " Our business " to prowl about under false colors, to 
 gain some mean advantage over deceived and unsuspect- 
 ing victims. Void of manly courage which would present 
 the soldier at the front, the " business " of decoying the 
 unwary restrains cowardly souls to the rear. 
 
 " Wears friendship's mask for purposes of spite, 
 Fawns in the day, and butchers in the night ; 
 With the cold caution of a coward's spleen, 
 Which fears not guilt, but always seeks a sween." 
 
 Let the reader receive a more satisfactory introduction 
 to these reconcilers of the "blue and gray." 
 
 "Fowler" About five feet eight inches in height, 
 well proportioned ; light auburn hair ; rather long, flow- 
 
192 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 ing, sandy beard ; mustache ; piercing, light blue eyes ; 
 slouch felt hat ; voice rather pleasant (except when it 
 first aroused the writer with unwelcome summons to 
 surrender). Grayish-brown or butternut Confederate 
 uniform double breasted coat, with two rows of brass 
 buttons; manner rough, firm, and uncouth. " Orna- 
 ment," breech-loading Henry rifle. His portrait in 
 this volume represents him with his mustache and much 
 of his beard shorn, but the same lovely features are 
 there the same noble countenance, the same angelic 
 expression, the same tender, pathetic look, the same 
 meek and lamb-like expression of the soft blue eyes 
 all of which so captivated the writer in 1864, and which, 
 doubtless, will tempt the appreciative admiration, espe- 
 cially of those who can bring to their aid the interesting 
 science of physiognomy. 
 
 The " boy in blue " we will introduce as one who dis- 
 graces the honorable name of ''Singleton." How do I 
 know? That's immaterial for present purposes; it is 
 sufficient that it's a fact. He seemed to be about five 
 feet nine inches in height; dark and rather short hair; 
 large black eyes ; black hat ; dressed in a complete and 
 apparently not much worn Federal infantry uniform ; 
 decidedly unbecoming in blue ! ' ' Ornament " a United 
 States Springfield rifle, calibre 69. (Did he get the ' ' orna- 
 ment" where he got the blue uniform?) 
 
FOWLER. 
 
OF THE WAR. 193 
 
 4 * What are you doing with this nigger here?" asked 
 Fowler, referring to terrified Jim. The writer replied: 
 
 ''He knows the country and roads, and I accepted his 
 services as my guide. He has been here before, I be- 
 lieve." Turning to the frightened negro, Fowler inquired 
 of him : 
 
 "Where did you come from, boy?" (Presuming on 
 association with the writer, doubtless, Jim promptly 
 responded : ) 
 
 " I c'sider my home in St. Louis, sar." 
 4 'How did you get 'way down here, then?" 
 "Come down wid Lieutenant dar wid de army." 
 " Hovv'd you get inside our lines? " (That's a poser!) 
 "Wid Lieutenant dar, sar." (Fowler seemed puz- 
 zled.) 
 
 Jim's adeptness as a prudent liar took the writer com- 
 pletely by surprise, and thinking that perhaps the life 
 of the " nigger " might depend on it, the writer attempted 
 to rescue him by explaining: "He don't mean he was a 
 soldier, sir ; he means to say that he came down with me 
 from St. Louis as my servant, and that he was captured 
 with me at the battle of Atlanta is that it, Jim? " 
 
 "Dat's it, sar, zactly," said Jim quickly, jumping at 
 the suggestion like a trout at a fly. 
 
 "So you were taken prisoner before Atlanta, were 
 you, sir?" asked Fowler of the writer. 
 
 " I was, sir, the day Gen. McPherson was killed." 
 13 
 
194 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 "Where have you been ever since that time? " 
 
 "Part of the time a prisoner, the other part trying 
 to get back." (Glances indicating incredulity.) 
 
 It must be borne in mind that Jim had been a " run- 
 awaj^ nigger" for more than a year, and, like the writer, 
 was a "gemman of de woods," entirely dependent for 
 aid and comfort upon the charity and good-will of sym- 
 pathizing strangers ; but he voluntarily undertook, and 
 perhaps wisely, to conceal these facts from our captors ; 
 and the writer recognized the "military necessity" of 
 having his story appear consistent, and experienced con- 
 siderable relief when he had succeeded in diverting atten- 
 tion from the "d d nigger." 
 
 Fowler now placed Singleton on guard, while he pro- 
 ceeded to search the prisoner for "contraband of war." 
 The writer kindly assisted him. The maps of the country 
 printed on linen were passed as dirty handkerchiefs, by 
 dexterously exposing only the unprinted sides. (How 
 thankful was the prisoner that he had presented his watch 
 and other valuables to his friends further south.) After 
 viewing the valueless " assets," he remarked, "All I want 
 now is the pocket-book best one I've seen for some 
 time; the other things you may keep a while longer." 
 ("^4 while longer?" What does he mean by that? Pos- 
 sible?) First flash of suspicion of intended foul play 
 ominous glances. "Well, you may fix up now to go 
 with us." 
 
OF THE WAR. 195 
 
 The prisoner donned his coat, and after much pain 
 succeeded in pulling his hardened boots on his lacerated 
 feet, and endeavored to obey the peremptory orders of 
 his captors ; he limped obedience. The party marched to 
 the abandoned Federal earthworks in single file Single- 
 ton, in blue, leading ; then came the writer, then Jim, 
 then Fowler bringing up the rear, and carrying his own 
 and the captured rifle one on each shoulder. As we 
 neared the works, the writer recognized the boy in the 
 Federal uniform with whom he had conversed in the 
 morning, and who had so faithfully promised not to 
 betray him. He was accompanied by another boy of 
 about his age, and both seemed to have been interested 
 spectators of the capture from a safe distance. The 
 writer hailed his morning friend with, " Well, young man, 
 you betrayed me, didn't you?" 
 
 "No, sir; I didn't," he replied. 
 
 "Who did?" 
 
 "This feller." (Pointing to his companion.) 
 
 "Well, who told him?" 
 
 "I did," said he, rather hesitatingly. 
 
 " Well, didn't you promise me faithfully" 
 
 "There stop that," said Fowler, savagely ; "don't 
 ask that boy any more questions ; do you understand 
 that?" (The prisoner thought he did.) 
 
 We passed beyond the breastworks, eastwardly, and 
 
196 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 had gone but a short distance when Fowler (rear guard) 
 hailed Singleton (advance guard), remarking, with an illy 
 concealed wink, "We must turn this cuss over to our 
 cavalry, and get rid of him before dark." 
 
 Singleton, with a knowing look, nodded assent. 
 
 "Where is the cavalry post?" the writer ventured to 
 inquire. 
 
 "At the Circle," responded Fowler. 
 
 " The 4 Circle? ' Where's that, sir? " 
 
 " You'll find out soon enough." 
 
 (Another significant exchange of glances between the 
 "guards.") We had now cleared the open space in 
 front of our abandoned works, and halted at a beautiful 
 spring of clear water. Our guards lay on the ground 
 alternately and drank ; so did Jim. Fowler said to the 
 writer, "You'd better get down and drink, sir; you 
 won't get water again right away." (Glancing at Single- 
 ton.) The writer was thirsty enough, but an indescriba- 
 ble something restrained him from accepting the invi- 
 tation. "Thank you; I'm not very thirsty." (More 
 significant glances.) We continue the march. "My 
 feet pain me so, gentlemen, that I must ask you to move 
 slower; you see I can hardly limp along with you." 
 Fowler responded, " Never mind ; you won't want to 
 use 'em much longer." (That settles it; they are going 
 to shoot us ! no mistaking the meaning of that remark. 
 
OF THE WAR. 197 
 
 Yes, at last we feel that it is "possible;" this is their 
 "business,'' in which they earn their arms and blue uni- 
 forms. ) 
 
 " Within the hollow, sighing woods 
 A vague, mysterious sadness broods." 
 
 Singleton now turned to Fowler and remarked, with an 
 inquiring look, " We can cut across the woods here to 
 the road, eh ? " 
 
 "Yes," responded the latter, and we penetrated the 
 thick woods, changing direction until well advanced 
 therein, when there occurred another exchange of glances 
 between the front and rear of our little column, followed 
 by a halt. 
 
 (Has the critical moment arrived?) Fowler sharply 
 remarked to Singleton, " See 'ere," and both moved apart 
 from their prisoners for consultation. Now. if my feet 
 were not useless, how I'd lessen the distance between us ; 
 but helpless hopeless ! ' ' Jim, ' ' said the writer (sotto 
 voce), "they're bent on killing us they're certainly bent 
 on killing us!" (Jim's eyes opened wide; he looked 
 wild.) "There's but one thing left for us to do, Jim; 
 we must fight ! " (Jim slightly shook his head. ) "Then 
 we must die like dogs, without an effort. No! no! let's 
 take the last chance. 1 " 
 
 Fowler now stealthily approached from behind us, 
 manifestly endeavoring to steal the purport of our 
 conversation, but the writer immediately turned it on 
 
108 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 to affairs at St. Louis. Other similar attempts resulted 
 the same. It was impossible for them to consult pri- 
 vately without according to us the same privilege, and 
 we kiieiv it. Their consultation was renewed so was 
 ours. "We're enough for 'em, Jim," urged the writer, 
 encouragingly. "I'll grab the rifle ahead, as he carries 
 it over his shoulder, and if I don't knock him over with 
 it, I'll hold on to it tightly, so he can't shoot us ; and 
 when I grab, the man behind will shoot me immediately, 
 if you don't stop him! Will you let him shoot me, 
 Jim?" 
 
 " No, sir; I won't let him shoot you." 
 
 "Will you turn on him, Jim, and stick to him, hold 
 on to him so he can't shoot, until I can come to you, or 
 you to me? " 
 
 "I see, I see," said Jim, excitedly. "I's suttain to 
 do it suttain to do it." (But will he?) 
 
 " When you see my hands flap on both sides, look out, 
 and be ready, Jim ; that will be the signal to grab." 
 
 "I's suttain to do it, Lieutenant; you may 'pend on 
 me dis time, suttain sure to do it." 
 
 " We can't be any worse off, Jim ; and by this we may 
 be better off." 
 
 " I see, I see ; you may 'pend I'll do it." 
 
 " Here they come, Jim. Now, strike quick and strong." 
 
 The double conference being over, we resumed our 
 march through the thick woods, as before, Singleton 
 
OF THE WAR. 199 
 
 leads the column, the writer following him ; then came 
 Jim, followed by Fowler. Singleton carried his rifle 
 loosely and carelessly over his shoulder, within easy 
 reach of the writer ; Fowler carried a rifle on each 
 shoulder. With stealthy glances, the writer determined 
 the exact band upon which his first grasp should tighten. 
 Beyond the rise in the ground, a few feet ahead, the 
 struggle must begin. We reach the knoll, and gradually 
 descend into the little valley beyond, ''the valley of 
 death." (?) How the thoughts crowd through the mind. 
 Feeling of dread. Success of one party certain death 
 of the other; which will it be? Begin at that sapling 
 there, "No! no! more delay; not quite yet, just 
 one moment longer. Could I but tear loose from this 
 invisible restraining demon!" Here is a good spot 
 "wait?" "Don't lose the opportunity, don't wait. 
 Will Jim do his duty? Our lives depend on that! Trust 
 him try him ; he's awake now. Do they notice my 
 agitation ? No more excuses, no more hesitation ; be 
 quick, be strong. Strike ! ' ' 
 
 "A mighty yearning, like the first 
 Fierce impulse unto crime ! " 
 
 The eye is fixed upon the band of the rifle ; the 
 writer increases his limping pace, closing right up to the 
 unsuspecting leader. Now! now! "Just beyond this 
 stump, and I will!" All the powers of soul and body 
 are pledged and concentrated for the desperate work ; 
 
200 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 the hands flap the tardy signal, lo! the scene changes. 
 We halt. All advantages still retained by the captors ; 
 stupid delay ; cowardly hesitation ; golden opportunity 
 lost lost lost. Singleton turned and exchanged sig- 
 nificant glances with Fowler. " What if we were mis- 
 taken as to their intentions? Some lives would have 
 been sacrificed to no purpose." We were not long kept 
 in the possibility of doubt. Fowler stood the captured 
 carbine against a stump, coolly cocked his rifle, and, 
 looking the writer steadily in the face, said (how well he 
 remembers how the words were burned into the tablet 
 of his memory): "My friend, this is as good a place 
 to die as any man could wish." There was a choking 
 sensation for an instant, as the writer fully realized the 
 significance of the solemn words, but quickly rallying, 
 he inquired : 
 
 " Why am I to be killed, sir? Didn't you promise to 
 treat me as a prisoner of war? " 
 
 " Well, this is the way we treat our prisoners of war." 
 
 The writer looked him steadily, full in the face, speech- 
 less, for a long moment, and for an instant he seemed 
 not a little annoyed by the silent rebuke, but suddenly 
 resumed : 
 
 "You are a d d Yankee ; and the d d Yankees stole 
 my wife's skillet, and I'll have no mercy on 'em. You've 
 got to die, sir." (Peculiar sensations.) "But many acts 
 were done in both armies that the officers did not approve 
 
OF THE WAR. 201 
 
 of. It's very hard, sir, that I must die for the act of one 
 of our soldiers, committed while I was a prisoner in your 
 lines, and of which 1 could not have any knowledge or con- 
 trol. Here, I'll give you papers which I think will pro- 
 tect you against such depredations in future. Besides, 
 sir, the act was not murder ; the offence don't merit such 
 punishment as this." "I don't care, sir; papers don't 
 protect ; even Gen. Sherman gave papers that didn't 
 protect; I'll fix you, d n } r ou, and then I'll be better 
 satisfied." (Shallow pretext in the absence of a cause. 
 The sheep striving to argue the wolf out of his supper.) 
 4 'This is very hard, sir, very hard ; my relatives and 
 friends will never know what became of me." Turning 
 to Singleton: "Can't you have something to say in 
 my behalf, sir? I have done nothing to deserve such 
 treatment as this. Do you approve of this, sir? Can't 
 you intercede to prevent deliberate murder? " Singleton 
 seemed touched by the earnest appeal to his manhood ; 
 gazed pitifully at the writer with his great black eyes a 
 moment, then hung and slowly shook his head. (Evi- 
 dently a struggle within him between a sense of right 
 and wrong, and of his incurred obligation to Fowler.) 
 Driven to utter desperation, the writer proposed to take 
 his surrendered carbine, with one round of ammunition, 
 any distance, and decide his right to live, in a rifle duel 
 with the best marksman of the two captors ; well knowing 
 that if this appeal to their courage and chivalry proved 
 
202 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 successful, he could fortify himself behind a tree, and 
 bid them defiance with the several rounds of ammunition 
 still concealed on his person and several dry caps still in 
 his vest pocket. The proposition was scouted at once, 
 and seemed to furnish Singleton with an excuse for 
 smothering even the slight sympathy he had previously 
 evinced. 
 
 "D n him," said he, "he wants to fight." 
 Singleton then asked Fowler (sotto voce) : 
 " What'll we do with him after we shoot him?" 
 "Bury the cuss," calmly replied Fowler. 
 " But we've nothing to dig with," suggested Singleton. 
 "Oh! well, ther're plenty of leaves, the hogs will 
 take care of the rest;" then turning to the writer, 
 unaware that he had heard the interesting conversation, 
 Fowler very considerately said : 
 
 " We'll bury you, sir, if we can, if that's any conso- 
 lation for you." The writer was silent. 
 
 Nothing will answer but blood. Reason baffled argu- 
 ments impotent appeals vain hope fled crushing 
 despair ! To die in battle to fall at the front what 
 a luxury compared to this ; but for this was I born, 
 to this have I come at last; face it, then, like a soldier! 
 The writer folded his arms and slowly bowed his head 
 hopeless. 
 
 He saw nothing he felt nothing but heavy pulsations 
 beating like a muffled drum ; he heard nothing but his 
 
OF THE WAR. 203 
 
 own labored breathing ; he hurriedly thought of home 
 and friends far away, and then solemnly of the great, 
 mysterious future, and was ready to die. Why this 
 delay? He raised his eyes and beheld the trio before 
 him steadily gazing at him ; firmness, hatred, and deter- 
 mination seemed depicted on the two white countenances, 
 sympathy and pity on the black. A suggestion suddenly 
 flashed through his mind : take the very last chance 
 run! Foolhardy attempt. He rapidly mused: "If I 
 stand, I'll be killed ; if I run, it cannot be worse ; there's 
 a chance one way, none the other. If I can surprise 
 them by a sudden and unexpected movement, it will serve 
 to unsteady their aim, as the sudden spring or flight of 
 game unsteadies the aim of the sportsman ; beside, I can 
 run zig-zag, which will all the more confuse them." Do it ! 
 do it ! The writer, as if unwittingly, slowly turned his 
 head carelessly, and in an instant surveyed the ground 
 behind him. The observant Singleton instantly remarked : 
 
 " He's fixing to run !" Fowler responded : 
 
 " Let him run, let's see how far he'll get?" 
 
 "Ah," said the writer, "it's too late to run now; I 
 can hardly walk, even had I chance to run. But but 
 would you give me twenty steps? " 
 
 " No, sir!" emphatically replied Fowler. 
 
 " Ten? " asked the writer. 
 
 " No, sir, not an inch." 
 
 On one or two occasions, as Mr. Fowler will well remem- 
 
204 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 !>er, as the writer inadvertently stepped toward him, he 
 brought his rifle clown, like a zealous sentry, and presented 
 it to the writer's body, warning him not to " undertake 
 any of his Yankee tricks." More than once the prisoner 
 half expected to feel the sting of his rifle-ball. Fowler 
 finally said: 
 
 "Well, sir, we've fooled away enough time with you, 
 and now if you want to pray a little, you have a mo- 
 ment or two to do it." (Casting a significant glance at 
 Singleton. ) 
 
 "Thanks, sir; thanks." (It's manifestly too late to 
 pray "deliver us from evil;" God helps those who help 
 themselves. Heartless, bloodthirsty brutes. ) 
 
 "Your time is a'most up already," urged Fowler; 
 "you must hurry." (That evaded, dreaded moment is 
 being rapidly forced forward.) 
 
 To- allay suspicion of his intention, the writer rested 
 one knee on the ground. Instantly Fowler's glance flashed 
 to Singleton, and both rifles bore upon the writer's breast. 
 He comprehended the predetermined programme to shoot 
 him in that position, in a flash, and immediately arose 
 and demanded the promised "two minutes." 
 
 "You've had 'em, you've had 'em, d n 3^011," said 
 Fowler, whose lips were now bloodless and quivering with 
 excitement. "Kneel there ! " demanded he, staring wildly 
 at the prisoner, whose thoughts were now all behind him. 
 Quick ! the dreaded instant is here. 
 
OF THE WAR. 205 
 
 The writer bent his knees as if to kneel, but only to 
 spring. Quick as a flash, he suddenly sprang backward, 
 and turning, fled at full speed, maintaining a zig-zag mo- 
 tion which was exceedingly creditable to his lacerated feet, 
 that responded nobly to the call upon them to assist in 
 one last, desperate effort to place their possessor beyond 
 the range of hostile rifles. Of course, the spring was 
 the signal to fire, and fire they did ! Three shots were 
 fired at the retreating form of the prisoner (?) in rapid 
 succession, and a fourth later. 
 
 The first was from the rifle of Fowler, and while the 
 writer was hardly five feet from its muzzle. He felt the 
 hot breath of the rifle almost scorching his left cheek. 
 "Missed! " Excellent marksman, too far to the left, 
 brother Fowler. 
 
 The second was from the " U. S. Springfield" in the 
 hands of Singleton, in blue, when the writer had gained 
 some fifteen feet in distance. Calmer than Fowler, his aim 
 was more accurate, despite the zig-zag feature maintained 
 by the retreating form. The large rifle-ball struck the 
 mark, and the writer was instantly and violently hurled to 
 the earth, so violently, that it seemed to him as though 
 the earth arose and struck him in the face. A deadly 
 quiver was felt for an instant, and the right arm (penning 
 these lines) fell paralyzed and useless to the ground. 
 "There goes my arm," thought the writer, but the ball 
 had penetrated deeper; it passed through the body 
 
206 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 and right scapula (shoulder-blade), penetrating the right 
 lung, shattering an upper rib, and baring the subclavian 
 artery in its passage. The hot blood spirted out fear- 
 fully ; but no sooner down than up. The third shot must 
 have been from the writer's captured carbine in the hands 
 of Fowler ; and just as he was rising (he knows not how), 
 the third report rang through the woods, and he felt his 
 cap suddenly leave his head, and flying blue cloth indi- 
 cated how near the ball came to the mark. There is a 
 possibility that the credit for marksmanship, accorded to 
 Singleton in the confusion of the moment and rapid firing, 
 belongs to Fowler, but the large size of the wound seems 
 to confirm the impression that the credit belongs to the 
 " boy in blue." But up, up, and on he flew, holding the 
 helpless right arm up with the left, as the speed was in- 
 creased, and all pains forgotten in the flight for life. At 
 every pulsation the blood spirted fitfully from the gaping 
 wound, and the writer, with excited misgivings, heard the 
 ominous gurgle of the ebbing life-current as it freely 
 bathed the right side of his body, and clotted in his 
 hardened boot. "Three rifles three shots," and addi- 
 tional relief came with the abandonment of the difficult 
 zig-zag feature of the flight. Another shot ! Where from ? 
 Reloaded? Impossible! The ball harmlessly scatters the 
 leaves a safe distance from the writer. Distance between 
 ex-captors and ex-captive now lengthens rapidly, but a 
 slight turn of the head detects dreaded sounds of pur- 
 
OF THE WAK. 207 
 
 suit. Speed was still more increased ; effort was put 
 forth to the very utmost ; all the powers of the failing 
 body were urged to retain the advantage gained. On 
 like the wind, with the determination to spend the last 
 particle of strength, the last drop of blood, for the 
 precious privilege of dying free from the grasp of the 
 bloodthirsty fiends. But the speed was suddenly slack- 
 ened, instinctively, at the call of a familiar voice ring- 
 ing through the woods, "Lieutenant! O Lieutenant! 
 Please wait for me!" 'Twas Jim! He shortly after 
 overtook the writer, and seemed overjoyed, exclaiming, 
 "I nebber, nebber seed a thing done so quick as dat in 
 all my life. Gemmen, dat beats de debil ! " After lie 
 had recovered his breath sufficiently to heed something 
 beyond his own excited utterances, he suddenly seemed 
 to suspect the writer's condition, and looking intently into 
 his blanched face, asked : 
 
 "Why, Lieutenant, are you hurt?" 
 
 "Yes, badly hurt, I guess; didn't you see me fall?" 
 
 "Yes, but I thought you just stumbled ; you got up so 
 quick, I 'eluded you wasn't hurt." Looking wildly at 
 the torn and bloody coat, he asked : 
 
 "Where, Lieutenant?" 
 
 " I thought it was only my arm at first, but I see it's 
 deeper (glancing at the torn coat-breast) ; I don't dare 
 look yet. How did you get away, Jim? " 
 
 " When dey emptied all de guns on you, you think I'se 
 
208 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 gwine to stay wid J em, who, me? No, sir. Dey fired 
 one shot after I left ; wasn't time to load, must a' had a 
 pistol or 'volver too, I reckon, eh?" 
 
 " Did they fire at you too?" 
 
 " Dunno, didn't hit me if dey did ; must a' fired at 
 me tho'. My Lord! you was done gone in a jiff! " 
 
 " Well, Jim, didn't they try to follow us? " 
 
 "'No-o-o, sir! What! ketch you? You was done 
 gone, I tell yer, clean gone out o' sight in a flash." 
 
 The writer could hardly suppress laughter at the enthu- 
 siasm of his excited companion, and the effort caused 
 expectoration. What! Blood? and the moisture about 
 the mouth bloody, too ? No mistake bleeding at the 
 mouth. 
 
 14 Jim, we must get away from here. They'll expect 
 us to go for the railroad, or north-west toward Atlanta, so 
 we'll go south. Let's see the compass? (Examines it.) 
 You can help me over the fences, Jim ; I feel I'm badly 
 hurt." 
 
 Now, the other living witnesses to what occurred dur- 
 ing our short acquaintance in the woods, if so disposed, 
 can fully corroborate what is herein stated. Call Mr. 
 Fowler call Mr. Singleton. 
 
 We were now about a mile from the scene of " battle," 
 whence we rapidly walked perhaps two miles further 
 southwardly, when the writer's failing strength compelled 
 a halt. Ghastly, and weak, and bleeding ; overcome with 
 
OF THE WAR. 209 
 
 excitement, fatigue, and great loss of blood, he suddenly 
 became dizzy, reeled an instant, and fell to the ground. 
 "Water! Jim, water!" Jim ran quickly to a neighbor- 
 ing brook and returned with a canteen of cool, refreshing 
 water, of which the fainting soldier drank eagerly ; after 
 which Jim kindly bathed his forehead, looking pitifully 
 into the pale features, while tear-drops rapidly chased 
 each other down his black cheeks. He finally asked, 
 imploringly, "Lieutenant, can you eber forgive Jim for 
 dropping asleep dat time? " (Tears flowing faster.) 
 "Yes, Jim; promise 3-ou'll never speak of it again?" 
 "Thanks, Lieutenant. But oh! you look so sick." 
 "Jim, that was a bad shot; and if I should die, tell 
 the Federals, if you reach them, how this happened. Give 
 them my name Bailey Morgan L. Smith's staff." 
 The writer also requested that some one write to his 
 friends, giving their address. 
 
 "Now. will you remember all this, Jim?" (Jim nodded 
 assent.) 
 
 "Sure, Jim?" (Continued nodding.) 
 The eyesight of the wounded soldier grew dimmer and 
 dimmer; objects grew more and more indistinct; the 
 questions were presented: "Is this realty death? The 
 great mystery mine?" There was a lingering, dreamy 
 realization of passing existence, weary eyelids slowly 
 closed o'er willing eyes, followed by a gradual 'soothing 
 relapse into oblivion. He slumbered, he knows not how 
 
 14 
 
210 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 long, but when be awoke it was sunset; the lustreless 
 eyes slowly opened, and beheld a flood of golden light 
 streaming through the tree tops, gilding and tinting the 
 foliage with royal beauty, while the cairn sunset hour was 
 musical with sweet warblings of merry songsters, that 
 flitted among the branches. Beautiful! beautiful! he 
 thought, as he struggled for an instant to recall the 
 reason of his presence here, and half doubting that he 
 was still upon the earth. The dreamy reverie was inter- 
 rupted by the voice of Jim, inquiring: 
 
 '' How do you feel, Lieutenant? " 
 
 The writer was cold and numb, and stiff in every 
 joint. Free expectoration of blood. The place where 
 the body had rested was marked and discolored with 
 dark, clotted blood-stains. Jim assisted the writer to a 
 sitting posture. Sinking, faint sensation ; gradual full 
 realization of the facts. Jim had gathered some sugar- 
 corn from a neighboring field, and after appropriating 
 the juice of four stalks, the wounded man seemed greatly 
 revived, and the sickening, faint sensation ceased. In 
 his weakness, he imagined he could make Atlanta, over 
 ten miles away, without difficulty ; and it now being near 
 twilight, he insisted upon starting out on the march for 
 the railroad northwestwardly. He had proceeded but 
 a few yards, when he was compelled to realize the great 
 change of an hour ; he suddenly fainted, and again 
 drooped unconscious to the earth. The cool water soon 
 
OF THE WAR. 211 
 
 revived him, and, against Jim's friendly protest, he again 
 persisted in making the vain attempt, leaning upon the 
 strong arm of his companion. How easy it would be 
 even to die within the Federal lines. "Jim, let me 
 spend my last strength in the effort to reach there." 
 44 But, Lieutenant, you're so sick that " "Hist ! What 
 sounds are those?" Nearer nearer. We silently 
 crouch behind friendly foliage, while on a by-road, 
 hardly fifteen feet away, passes a squadron of Confed- 
 erate cavalry. We distinctly see their carbines and gray 
 uniforms, and hear their clanking sabre-scabbards. Jim, 
 at first, was disposed to beat a rapid retreat, but was 
 silently borne to the ground by the clinging form of his 
 wounded companion. The excitement created by this 
 narrow escape served in still another way to convince 
 the writer of his weakness and inability to reach the 
 Federal lines. At this moment his eye rested on a light 
 streaming from a residence but a short distance down the 
 road. "How its beams seem to beckon me! " There 
 was a moment's silence, broken by the writer with, 
 "Jim, no use talking; I believe I'm mortally wounded. 
 But if I'm mistaken, Jim, that light that house what- 
 ever it is is my last chance for life. I know I can't live 
 in the woods through this night. I 'know it. Take me 
 to that house." 
 
 4 'But, Lieutenant, 'spose they should be rebels? " 
 
212 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 "Never mind, Jim; they are human beings, anyway. 
 Take me there take me there." 
 
 " But 'spose they should tell their cavalry? " 
 " 'Spose nothing, Jim ; take me there, or I'll go alone." 
 Leaning on Jim's friendly arm, the wounded soldier 
 was supported and slowly conducted to the front porch 
 of the humble residence ; and in response to Jim's gen- 
 tle, timid rap at the front door, there appeared two white 
 ladies. 
 
 They speechlessly gazed inquiringly at us, and seemed 
 horror-stricken at the sight of the pale face and blood- 
 besmeared clothing of a hatless soldier in blue, who 
 opened the conversation with, "Ladies, I am an enemy, 
 as my uniform indicates ; but I am very badly wounded, 
 and helpless." Before he could even commence to ex- 
 plain the cause of his presence and appearance, one of 
 the ladies exclaimed, u Oh, you poor soul! you are wel- 
 come, thrice welcome, to our house, ivhoever you are ; 
 come in, sir, come in." The wounded "enemy," joy- 
 fully surprised at such an exhibition of kindness and 
 sympathy, gladly staggered toward the door, when one 
 of these kind ladies remarked : 
 
 "See! the poor fellow can scarcely stand; let's help 
 him, sister, take hold that side;" and the two ladies 
 tenderly assisted Jim in supporting the fainting soldier 
 into the house, and cornfortabl}* seating him before a 
 grand old fire on the hearth. 
 
MRS. II AM BRICK. 
 
OF THE WAR. 213 
 
 Would you know the name of the mistress of this 
 humble residence, whose nobility of soul elevated her 
 above sectional feeling, and whose large heart's generous 
 impulses could not be halted before sectional prejudices, 
 and whose sympathy for human suffering could neither 
 be measured nor restrained by the color of a uniform ? 
 Her name is Mrs. Carrie E. Hambrick, a widow lady, 
 who had fought the battles of life bravely and single- 
 handed for many years, and whose residence at present 
 (May, 1880) is in the city of Atlanta, Georgia. The 
 other lady, equally noble- hearted, was her sister, who 
 was then temporarily sojourning with her. 
 
 "Now, tell us all about how you got hurt," said Mrs. 
 Hambrick, kneeling beside the form drooping in the 
 easy-chair, and gazing sympathetically into the ghastly 
 features, her sister standing beside her; "please tell 
 us all about it." With considerable difficulty the writer 
 responded, "Well, ladies, I'm an escaped Union pris- 
 oner; was recaptured to-day by two armed men, one in 
 our uniform, who took me into the woods over there, 
 and gave me two minutes to pray ; I ran, and they fired 
 at me three or four times, and shot me through once, 
 as you see. I know I'm badly wounded perhaps mor- 
 tally ; I am growing weaker every moment, and can only 
 hope to die in peace with you." The countenances 
 of the two ladies were now bathed in tears. Suddenly 
 Mrs. Hambrick' s face was buried in her apron, and she 
 
214 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 sobbed aloud ; then raising her noble face toward Jim, 
 she inquired : 
 
 "And were you with him all the time?" 
 
 "Yes 'urn, I seed de whole thing, mum;" She then 
 vehemently exclaimed : 
 
 "Oh, the villains! Oh, the murderous, cowardly vil- 
 lains! Shame, shame on our folks! " Then turning to 
 her sister, she said, " Sister, we heard the four shots; 
 remember, I remarked it at the time?" The sister 
 replied in the affirmative, adding, "Over in this direc- 
 tion" (pointing). Jim said, "Yes, 'um, dat's de 
 place," and the writer nodded assent. "Well," said 
 Mrs. H., arising and tenderly addressing the writer, " we 
 must take off your coat, dress your wound, give you 
 some warm supper, and put you to bed ; we can't let you 
 die with us, you must live." 
 
 11 How softly on the bruised heart 
 
 A word of kindness falls ; 
 And to the dry and parched soul 
 The moistening tear-drop calls." 
 
 The blood-besmeared coat was carefully removed and 
 the underclothing cut, exposing to view a ghastly, gap- 
 ing wound, the sight of which brought forth fresh 
 denunciations of the "contemptible, cowardly scoun- 
 drels," and an additional flow of sympathetic tears. 
 The soldier looked at the ugly, bubbling wound through 
 his breast, and, in spite of the tender encouragement of 
 
OF THE WAR. 215 
 
 the ladies to the contrary, expressed his misgivings as to 
 its effect. He knew that it was a bad wound, in a very 
 dangerous place. 
 
 The two small children of Mrs. Hamhrick, Isaac and 
 Tallulah, a sweet little girl, with bright eyes and sunny 
 hair, stood mutely by, gazing at the strange scene with 
 childish simplicity, apparently horrified witnesses of the 
 bloody work being performed by tender hearts and will- 
 ing hands. 
 
 The wound was tenderly washed and dressed ; warm 
 water soft cloths sympathy kind words and careful 
 hands were brought into requisition for the purpose, but 
 the "bathing" afforded by the tears of sympathetic 
 .souls seemed far more potent than all the rest to lift up 
 the drooping spirits of the soldier, and encourage him to 
 live. Then came warm bread and butter and hot cof- 
 fee royal luxuries. Foodless all day, and the expe- 
 riences of it, had made the wounded stranger absolutely 
 ravenous; hence the strange luxuries kindly placed 
 before him disappeared almost instantly. The good 
 ladies jocularly alluded to the "mysterious disappear- 
 ance" as an encouraging sign of speedy recovery, and 
 the soldier wonderfully revived. 
 
 "Now tell us who you are, and where's your home," 
 said Mrs. H., cheerfully. The soldier's name, rank, and 
 home were given ; and his revival brought forth copious 
 tears of gratitude, upon attempting to express his obli- 
 
216 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 gallons for such unexpected kindness and sympathy. 
 "Oh! never mind that," said Mrs. Hambrick, inter- 
 rupting his rather awkward effort; "we would be only 
 too glad to comfort any one in your pitiable condition." 
 After Jim had also partaken freely of the luxurious 
 "spread," the writer said to him, "Now, Jim, you shall 
 have a chance to punish yourself for falling asleep. I'm 
 going to send you to Atlanta. Will you go for me?" 
 Jim promptly replied, " Suttainly ; ob course I'll go." 
 He was thereupon instructed how to be guided by the 
 compass ; to proceed north-westwardly, avoiding roads, 
 until he reached the railroad east of Atlanta ; then to 
 move cautiously westward until hailed by Federal pickets. 
 He was thoroughly posted as to the extreme danger 
 of trifling with or hesitating before an outpost; and the 
 writer, taking pains to particularize and simplify, ex- 
 plained: "Now, remember, Jim, when the picket yells 
 ''Halt!' you stop don't move an inch; he will then ask, 
 ''Who comes there? ' then 3 r ou speak right out immediately, 
 and say, ' A friend ivith the countersign; ' then he'll say, 
 'Advance, friend, with the countersign; ' then you walk 
 right up to the picket, don't be afraid, now, and 
 stand before his bayonet and tell him your story, and 
 hand him this paper this lady has kindly written for us ; 
 now, will you do it, Jim, and be careful about it?" 
 " Suttain to do it suttain ! " (But will he?) 
 "One other thing, Jim: if you see the pickets are not 
 
OF THE WAR. 217 
 
 faced this way, look out! they're Confederates; circle 
 away around them, as we've often done before." 
 
 Mrs. Hambrick had kindly written on a card the name, 
 rank, and corps of the writer, together with her name 
 and a description of the location of her residence, which 
 she now handed to Jim, who received his final caution, 
 bade us "good-night," and departed through the dark- 
 ness on his perilous mission. The distance to Atlanta 
 from this point is about ten and a half miles north- 
 westward. 
 
 The good ladies then prepared the grand old feather- 
 bed which stood in a corner of the front-room, and 
 announced that it was ready for the wounded stranger 
 to occupy, and assisted him to its side. " White sheets! 
 who ever heard of white sheets?" The stranger vigor- 
 ously protested against soiling so grand a luxury. 
 "Don't put me in there; my wound is bleeding } r et," 
 he urged, as he called attention to the dark blood which 
 slowly oozed from the ghastly orifice, and rolled in thick 
 drops down the body, "I'll not consent to soil your 
 bed." 
 
 "Oh, you poor, dear soul!" exclaimed Mrs. H., as 
 she forcibly pressed the helpless form down upon the 
 snowy sheets, "what is my bed compared to your life 
 and comfort? There! lie there, and not another word 
 about it ! " There was unwilling obedience, but in a few 
 moments soothing relief came with deep slumber. How 
 
218 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 long the patient slept, he knows not ; but when he awoke, 
 during the still hours of the night, his eyes opened and 
 beheld the motherly features of Mrs. Hambrick, whose 
 form was leaning over the bedside, and whose eyes peered 
 inquiringly into the pale features of the stranger. With 
 low, sweet voice, full of tender sympathy, she inquired : 
 
 " How do you feel now, Lieutenant? " 
 
 " Better, I guess, dear lady, slept sweetly. But what 
 are you doing here, why not retired ? " 
 
 " Never mind me. Are you better, think you? " 
 
 "Yes, I feel much refreshed, much better. I've 
 been dreaming of one your kindness reminded me of, 
 but who's gone, and I thought the distance between us 
 very short. But you need rest ; I can rest as well without 
 care, so please go." 
 
 She did not reply, but continued that steady, inquiring 
 look into the writer's face, as she slowly moved backward 
 from the bedside. In a few moments he was again asleep. 
 When he next awoke it was by the gentle pressure of a 
 warm hand upon his forehead, and he slowly opened his 
 eyes to look into the same anxious, smiling countenance. 
 "What! you here yet?" he faintly asked. "Never 
 mind me," said she ; "do you want anything?" 
 
 "Nothing nothing." She then gently leaned over 
 the writer and earnestly spoke to him a few moments of 
 death and eternity the uncertainty of his recovery. 
 She was informed by the latter that her views were in 
 
OF THE WAR. 21t> 
 
 accord with his early education and the teachings of 
 his mother, and that in the midst of his recent trials- 
 and sufferings, instead of dreading, he had actually 
 coveted the change ; and he felt even more grateful as 
 he realized he was in the hands of Christian people. 
 Again exhausted nature slept. Considerable time he 
 knows not how long elapsed, when he was awakened still 
 again by the suppressed murmur of voices beside him ; 
 the speakers were not aware that they had awakened the 
 subject of their conversation. Said one, "I do hope he 
 will last till the Federals come." "He appears to enjoy 
 rest; I guess he'll feel stronger in the morning," whis- 
 pered the other "Well," said the first, "we must do 
 all we can." The ladies retired, and the writer thought, 
 "Those tender-hearted ladies would have me worse than 
 I really am." He soon again fell asleep, and slept until 
 broad daylight of 
 
 October 9. It seems that the news of the presence of 
 a wounded Federal officer had quickly spread about the 
 neighborhood, together with rumors as to the cowardly 
 manner in which the wound was given, for very early in 
 the morning a number of ladies in the neighborhood 
 visited Mrs. Hambrick, spoke sympathizingly to the 
 " wounded Federal," and in strong language denounced 
 the "cowardly brutes" who could thus attempt to mur- 
 <U-i- the captured and helpless. Later, Mrs. Hambrick 
 
220 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 received a visit from a Confederate soldier, a Mr. Burdit, 
 who rather unceremoniously and officiously entered the 
 chamber with, " Heigh-ho! What you got here, eh? 
 Heard you had a sick Yank over here." "No, Mr. Bur- 
 dit, but wounded, in a cowardly way, too, a Ful- 
 eral officer, and he's quite low. Please be more quiet," 
 obsequiously urged Mrs. Hambrick. " Yaas, I know'd 
 he was a Yank by that blue coat thar," said he, as he care- 
 lessly inspected that bloody garment. Approaching the 
 bedside, and seemingly peering rather impudently into the 
 pale features of the wounded "enemy," he exclaimed, as 
 he beheld the lustreless eyes fixed upon his dreaded but- 
 ternut uniform, creating any thing but pleasant mem- 
 ories : 
 
 " Well, Yank, see that? " (Holding up a shattered, 
 hand, well bandaged.) " I've just come from the Wilder- 
 ness, where your man Grant got such a terrible flogging ! " 
 
 "Indeed?" feebly responded the wounded man, rather 
 indifferently. 
 
 "Maybe you don't believe me?" 
 
 "Yes, yes; only we probably differ as to what con- 
 stitutes a ' flogging. ' ' 
 
 "Well, we'll both agree before we get through tiie 
 fight as to what it is, don't you reckon?" 
 
 " Oh, possibly." 
 
 64 We're bound to whip the fight, you know, no mis- 
 take about that. We're bound to whip the fight ! Eh ? " 
 
OF THE WAR. 221 
 
 "I said nothing, sir. I'm in no condition to settle it 
 by argument." 
 
 "Well, I'll just tell you, Yank, " Mrs. Hambrick 
 here kindly interposed with, 
 
 "Now, Mr. Burdit, you must stop this; he's in no 
 condition to argue with you, and you shall not taunt him 
 in my house." (Noble woman!) 
 
 " Oh, I ain't a hurtin' on him, am I? " 
 
 "Well, you see, he's perfectly helpless, and you ought 
 to be ashamed of yourself." 
 
 To the credit of "private Burdit" be it said, he then 
 subsided in a very cheerful and gentlemanly manner, and 
 was learning from Mrs. H. the circumstances of the 
 wounding, when one of the children drove him uncere- 
 moniously to the woods by charging through the rear 
 door with the excited exclamation, "The Federals are 
 coming!" Glory hallelujah ! At the writer's request the 
 front-door was thrown wide open, and shortly after a 
 body of eight or ten mounted Federal cavalrymen rode 
 slowly by the house, with cocked carbines in their right 
 hands, hardly looking to the right or left, but gazing 
 intently down the road ahead of them, as they rode 
 grandly and cautiously forward. "They're going by; 
 they 're going by ! " exclaimed Mrs. Hambrick's little boy, 
 Isaac. "That's the advance guard, as I live," jo3'fully 
 exclaimed the wounded soldier, with a desperate effort to 
 raise his head higher upon the pillow. With breathless 
 
A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 anxiety we awaited the approach of the main force, 
 which shortly after appeared, one hundred and fifty 
 strong, escorting an ambulance and surgeon, and halted 
 before the door. How the command "Halt!" rang out 
 through the clear morning air. The next moment, a 
 Federal sergeant leaped through the door to the bedside, 
 with, "Ah! Lieutenant, we've come for you!" and 
 almost immediately the room was filled with officers and 
 soldiers of the command, faithful Jim in the midst of 
 them. Veritable blue-coats at last; reaching our lines 
 assured now; visions of home and friends The 
 rescued soldier was so completely overcome with un- 
 bounded joy, that for some moments he was absolutely 
 speechless; hot tears coursing down the pallid cheeks 
 were the only evidences of inexpressible gratitude within. 
 
 " After long agony, 
 Rapture of bliss!" 
 
 Many moments of rare pleasure has the writer experi- 
 enced during a life extending through thirty-eight years, 
 embracing many of its charms and blessings, but to this 
 particular moment, when the cheerful blue-coats swarmed 
 into his presence, dispelling the gloomy clouds of dread 
 suspense which surrounded him, and banishing fears and 
 brightening hopes, does he accord the no small honor of 
 affording him the most complete satisfaction and unalloyed 
 joy of any moment in his life. This force was of the 
 New York cavalry command of Gen. Garrard, and com- 
 
OF THE WAR. 223 
 
 manded by a captain, a noble officer, whose name the 
 writer greatly regrets he forgot, and who, with the sur- 
 geon, approached the bedside and carefully examined the 
 ugly wound through the breast. "It's a very bad 
 wound," said the surgeon; and inquired, "Did you spit 
 blood ? ' ' The writer replied in the affirmative, and the 
 surgeon nodded, and whispered significantly to the 
 captain. 
 
 The writer was now assisted by numerous willing hands 
 to partially dress, and was bundled up comfortably by 
 the ladies for the rugged voyage, and numerous strong 
 arms of the "boys in blue" gladly bore his weakened 
 form to the comfortable ambulance awaiting him at the 
 gate. Here the ladies, who had followed with encourag- 
 ing words and small articles of comfort, again burst into 
 tears. The wounded but happy soldier recited as best 
 he could the many acts of kindness and sacrifices of 
 these noble ladies, and was overjoyed as he listened to 
 the glowing compliments and warm thanks tendered to 
 them, over and over again, by our gallant officers and 
 soldiers. At parting, the captain commanding grew elo- 
 quent in a short, touching speech, promising remembrance, 
 and warmly tendering the thanks of himself and com- 
 mand " for your great kindness, ladies, and sacrifices 
 made for an unfortunate one of our number." Jim, now 
 completely forgiven, was placed in the ambulance to sup- 
 port his wounded companion. The ladies each stepped 
 
224 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 upon the rear step of the ambulance, and implanted fare- 
 well kisses upon bloodless lips, enjoining earnestly, 
 " Now, write to us if you ever get well." They were 
 assured by a feeble voice the great pleasure such an op- 
 portunity would afford. The final "good-day, ladies," 
 was numerously spoken ; there was a general polite lifting 
 of blue caps, and the column slowly moved toward the 
 long-coveted Federal lines. 
 
 Supported by the strong arms of Jim, the rescued 
 soldier leaned outward to obtain a last, lingering look at 
 the receding forms of two of the noblest of women, and 
 painfully realized his utter inability to fully appreciate 
 their nobility of soul, and the deep, warm sympathy for 
 a suffering "enemy" whom a cowardly, hostile bullet 
 had suddenly pressed to the very verge of eternity ; and 
 without their tender care to comfort him, and their kind, 
 cheering words of hope, tenderly urged in upon the soul 
 that had well-nigh taken its flight, the dim flame would 
 have long since been extinguished, and this volume would 
 not be written to record the evidences of their nobility, 
 outranking all titles bestowed by human hands ! 
 
 There were now brought to the rear of the ambulance, 
 for the writer's inspection, three Confederate pickets who 
 had been captured en route. One of the captors asked, 
 " Do these look like those fellows, Lieutenant, anything 
 like 'em at all?" The writer looked steadily at the trio 
 of captives in Confederate uniforms, and how imploringly 
 
OF THE WAR. 225 
 
 did they look at him ! With breathless anxiety, and 
 meek and humble countenances did they await his 
 response, and seemed to breathe freer as he slowly 
 shook his head with, "No, none of these. Where were 
 these taken? " 
 
 "We were on picket duty, sir," quickly and timidly 
 responded one of them. 
 
 "They disputed our passage to you, and we run 'em 
 down and gobbled 'em," said one of our boys. 
 
 "They're soldiers, taken in the line of duty, and ought 
 not to be harmed. I don't want them harmed on my 
 account," earnestly responded the writer, and the poor 
 fellows looked up gratefully into the ambulance. 
 
 "Well, it's ad d lucky thing for you fellows that 
 you don't look like the d d cowardly scoundrels!" 
 said one of the boys in blue to the relieved captives. 
 " There's too much of this thing going on, and only one 
 in a thousand gets away to tell of it." 
 
 "And it's about time there was some mustering out 
 done on the other side," added another. 
 
 " Yes, and the sooner we commence at it the better," 
 chimed in another, with a suspicious side-glance at the 
 timid captives marching through the dust behind the 
 ambulance, who seemed well aware that the threatening 
 remarks were intended for their ears. 
 
 The writer peered inquiringly at one of the sergeants, 
 who participated in the conversation, who, in response, 
 
 15 
 
226 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 brought his horse up near the ambulance, only to hear 
 repeated, 
 
 "I don't want these prisoners harmed on my account, 
 sergeant. ' ' 
 
 " That's all right," replied he; " the boys 're just 
 scaring 'em a little, that's all ; it'll do 'em good." 
 
 We had proceeded about a quarter of a mile from Mrs. 
 Hambrick's, when, incredible as it may seem, a solitary 
 shot was fired at our column from the edge of the tim- 
 ber, about three hundred yards from the road, and a 
 single bullet passed over it with the old familiar hissing 
 sound. " Bushwhackers ! " shouted several of our boys at 
 once. The fence beside the road was razed in a twinkle, 
 and a half dozen blue-coats dashed across the open inter- 
 vening field in the direction of the lingering smoke of 
 the rifle. 
 
 The column halted for the result. The chase was a 
 short, fruitless one, and when the pursuers returned, the 
 captain rode to the ambulance and inquired, 
 
 "Lieutenant, how were your friends dressed?" 
 
 After being informed, he continued: u These fellows 
 answered that description, one in butternut and one in 
 blue ; we got a sight of 'em, but the scoundrels ran into 
 a swamp and escaped us ; wish we'd caught 'em for 
 you." This supposition corresponds with the informa- 
 tion afterwards acquired, to the effect that the next 
 morning after the shooting, Fowler, with Singleton, was 
 
OF THE WAR. 227 
 
 trailing the writer with hounds ; that his name had unwit- 
 tingly been mentioned in the presence of the writer, and, 
 fearing disagreeable consequences, he had " determined 
 to finish his intended victim, at any risk." (You didn't 
 get up quite early enough, " brother " Fowler.) 
 
 A word or two more to these chivalrous gentlemen : 
 Let me state to you, brother Fowler, brother Single- 
 ton, that, had you been caught on that occasion, you 
 may safely "reckon" that neither of you would have 
 experienced the delight of perusing in this volume the 
 eulogistic references made by the facts to your prowess, 
 chivalry, manhood, and marksmanship. 
 
 Our little column passed through Decatur, and another 
 little jaunt of six miles brought us to Atlanta. Atlanta! 
 that " Hood had made up his mind to hold at all haz- 
 ards." Atlanta! that "the Yankees can never take, 
 sir." Atlanta! before whose gates the rescued soldier, 
 while concealed in distant Southern forests, had so often 
 heard the thunder of Federal cannon. Atlanta! at peace 
 beneath the flag of the stripes and stars. As we neared. 
 the fortifications, the escorted ambulance passed the bat- 
 tle-field of July 22d, and over the very road beside which 
 its wounded occupant was captured, which spot was 
 immediately identified with much interest ; but the grand 
 feast to his bedim med vision was the sight of the old 
 Jlag. How majestically it floated where before he had 
 seen only "stars and bars." Never before did the flag 
 
A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 of the Union appear so bright and glorious ; never was he 
 prouder of the uniform he wore ; never so desirous of 
 witnessing a vigorous prosecution of the war for the 
 Union ; never before so appreciative so delighted 
 so comfortable so safe so satisfied under the glorious 
 old stars and stripes. 
 
 " Then up with our banner bright, 
 
 Sprinkled with starry light, 
 Spread the fair emblem from mountain to shore, 
 
 And through the sounding sky, 
 
 Loud let the Nation cry, 
 Union and Liberty, one evermore ! " 
 
 Failure to readily find the hospital of the Fifteenth 
 Army Corps resulted in the wounded soldier's reception 
 into the general hospital of the Army of the Cumber- 
 land. The news of his misfortune and rescue soon 
 spread in the immediate vicinity, and he at once became 
 an unenvied object of curiosity. Soldiers and citizens 
 and hospital attaches assembled in and about the large 
 hospital- tent, gazing curiously at the annoyed and suffer- 
 ing new-comer, and eagerly soliciting information con- 
 cerning his experiences ; visitors, nurses, and surgeons 
 asked innumerable questions, wise and otherwise, which 
 greatly annoyed the unfortunate fortunate, who was 
 wearied after the long ride, and of all things most desired 
 rest. The surgeon-in-chief soon entered, and elbowed his 
 way to the side of the tortured new patient ; asked a few 
 hurried questions ; looked seriously at the gaping wound, 
 
OF THE WAR. 229 
 
 from which the dark, thick blood again began to slowly 
 ooze ; learned of the long, tedious ride ; recognized the 
 meaning of the woe-begone appearance of his new patient, 
 and immediately ordered the curious crowd from the tent, 
 and instructed the kind soldier-nurse to permit no person 
 whatever to converse with the object of their curiosity. 
 The writer of course felt greatly relieved, and was just 
 relapsing into sweet slumber, when he was disturbed by 
 the appearance of three or four surgeons with the nurse, 
 who announced to his unwilling ears that they had come 
 to take a diagnosis of the wound, and to see it properly 
 attended to and dressed. The ordeal, though very pain- 
 ful, was cheerfully endured, and the delicate duties of 
 the surgeons tenderly performed, during which the remarks 
 were made: "Just missed the subclavian artery," one 
 kindly said to the patient, smilingly; "an eighth of an 
 inch higher, my boy, would have settled it." Another 
 said, "The ball passed just below where the subclavian 
 and axillary arteries join." All seemed to concur in such 
 declarations as, " mighty narrow escape ; " " close call ;" 
 "ugly wound," "bad place;" "the d d cowardly 
 villains;" etc., etc. The kind torturers, occasionally, 
 tenderly made inquiries of the patient, in response to 
 which he informed them that during the evening of the 
 shooting, and while at the house of the noble lady, when 
 he drew breath the wound bubbled, and he frequently 
 spat blood. All concurred that the ball had penetrated 
 
230 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 the upper lobe of the right lung. The surgeons stood 
 aside, indulging in private conference concerning the 
 "new case;" after which the surgeon in charge of the 
 hospital-tent alone returned, gave the nurse instructions 
 concerning treatment, diet, etc., and passed on his rounds 
 to the bedsides of other unfortunates. In the excitement 
 and confusion attending the too warm "reception " at the 
 hospital, Jim became separated from the writer, and in 
 obedience to the surgeon's orders was probably included 
 in the ejected crowd of curious spectators, and the most 
 strenuous efforts to ascertain his whereabouts failed ; nor 
 has the writer seen or heard of him since, excepting the 
 indirect information that he remained with Garrard's 
 cavalry in the capacity of a servant. Should this volume 
 and the writer's location ever come to his knowledge, be- 
 3 T ond a doubt he will bear willing testimon}? 1 as to the 
 scenes and incidents occurring in the woods as herein 
 related ; and he may accept this as a certificate of full and 
 complete pardon for falling asleep while on " guard 
 duty," and always be assured that his old companion of 
 S3^1van retreats will at an}' time be more than rejoiced to 
 cordially greet and welcome him. Despite the precious 
 privilege of communicating with home and friends, after 
 two and a half months of unaccounted-for absence, and 
 the tenderest possible care, and the glorious consolation 
 of being safe among friends and beneath the protecting 
 folds of our flag of the stripes* and stars, and happy, 
 
OF THE WAR. 231 
 
 despite all these, the exciting incidents of the recent past, 
 and the great loss of blood, produced their evil effects. 
 The patient rapidly sank, and for two days remained in a 
 state of half -consciousness, the spirit seeming to linger 
 hesitatingly upon that indistinct border where faint life 
 gradually fades into dissolution. 
 
 As soon as possible, the writer was removed from the 
 tent to more comfortable quarters, within a residence 
 which had been appropriated for hospital purposes, and 
 where he had been "booked" for removal and classed 
 among the " severe cases." This was on 
 
 October 12. Thence followed more than a week of 
 careful, tender care, and feverish tossings of the bed- 
 ridden patient, except when forced under the quiet and 
 dreamy influence of morphine. Letters were dictated, 
 and communications attempted with friends in the far 
 North. The only exercise permitted was that necessi- 
 tated by the morning and evening dressing of the pain- 
 ful wound ; 'twas not the wound that pained so much, 
 but dreadful, constant pains seemed to shoot spasmodi- 
 cally the entire length of the right arm, and to linger 
 continually in the shoulder, elbow, and joints of the wrist 
 and hand. Almost daily was the patient compelled to 
 submit to the delightful process of burning off proud 
 flesh with caustic from the surroundings of the wound, 
 and experience the so.othing sensation produced by 
 
A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 streams of tepid water forced entirely through the body, 
 to keep the wound " sweet" and "healthy." 
 
 Upon earnest inquiry, the patient was informed that 
 his division, and the whole Fifteenth Corps, was back 
 between Atlanta and Chattanooga looking after the rebs, 
 who had all gone north in the endeavor to flank Sherman 
 out of Atlanta ; which the boys all seemed to consider a 
 4 'good joke." We occasionally heard of the battles in 
 the rear; and the writer, being the only member of the 
 Fifteenth Corps in the room, took great pride in listening 
 to, and exulting over, the reports of the gallant conduct 
 of detachments of his old corps in contact with superior 
 numbers of the enemy. Prominent among these events 
 was the attempt of Maj. Gen. French, C. S. A., on Octo- 
 ber 5, to carry by storm our works at Altoona, Georgia, 
 and who sent to Brig. Gen. Corse, commanding that 
 post, the startling announcement that he was "entirely 
 surrounded," and demanding immediate and "uncondi- 
 tional surrender," allowing five minutes to decide, "to 
 avoid the needless effusion of blood," and patronizingly 
 promising " most honorable treatment as prisoners of 
 war." 
 
 The worthy and gallant representative of the old corps 
 immediately replied, spurning the demand, "We are pre- 
 pared for the needless effusion of blood, whenever it is 
 agreeable to you." Notwithstanding the furious, bloody 
 assault from surrounding and overwhelming forces which 
 
OF THE WAR. 233 
 
 followed, the dauntless commander of the Fourth Divi- 
 sion and his plucky soldiers tenaciously carried out the 
 determination, against all comers, to " hold the fort." 
 
 Of Corse they did ; and yet it was no more than was 
 expected of a detachment of the old Fifteenth Corps. 
 
 Not relishing the terrible, bloody repulse resulting from 
 actual encounter with such stuff, and realizing with hor- 
 ror "the needless effusion of blood " before the Federal 
 works at Altoona, Gen. John B. Hood, commanding the 
 entire Confederate army about Northern Georgia, on 
 October 12 tested another small detachment of this 
 old corps, the Second Brigade of the Third Division, 
 placed within and expected to hold the fortifications at 
 Resaca, Georgia. By the intimidation or buncombe pro- 
 cess, he vainly sought to force to surrender a comparative 
 "handful" of the same "stuff" which the bloody sting 
 inflicted at Altoona admonished him not to assault. The 
 "general commanding" sent the peremptory demand to 
 the Union colonel, Clark R. Weaver, with the startling 
 announcement that, "if the place is carried by assault, 
 no prisoners will be taken!" While rather surprised at 
 such a message from the " commander-in-chief " of over- 
 whelming numbers, he promptly responded: "In my 
 opinion, I can hold this post. If you want it, come and 
 take it!" 
 
 The test seemed to satisfy the " commanding gen- 
 eral" that the same sort of indomitable pluck which had 
 
234 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 cost him so much to discover at Altoona, would be also 
 found, unadulterated, in the fearless little brigade ex- 
 pected to defend Resaca. The remaining test of assault 
 was wisely waived. 
 
 Some two months later, Gen. Sherman selected the 
 Second Division of the same old corps, upon the staff of 
 which the proud writer belonged, to assault and carry by 
 storm the importaiit stronghold and final * ' link ' ' that con- 
 nected him with the sea, Fort McAllister, below Savan- 
 nah, Georgia, which was grandly done, despite planted 
 torpedoes, chevaux-de-frise, artillery and musketry fire, 
 and the entire garrison killed or captured. "To secure 
 this important remaining 'link,'" Gen. Sherman stated, 
 "I trusted entirely to this division of infantry, the 
 Second of the Fifteenth Corps, the same old division 
 that I had commanded at Shiloh and Vicksburg, and in 
 which I felt a special pride and confidence." 
 
 The brother sufferers of the writer in the double room 
 of the residence hospital deserve passing notice. Among 
 the wounded soldiers, comparatively insignificant incidents 
 were greedily seized upon, if the slightest opportunity 
 was afforded by them to create mirth or laughter, and all 
 sorts of jests and stories were told to cheer the weary 
 hours. Personal peculiarities were made the subject of 
 humorous comments, and the quaint expressions of faith- 
 ful soldier-nurses furnished ample opportunity to test the 
 powers of mimicry. Thus through the lengthened hours 
 
OF THE WAR. 235 
 
 of suffering ran a silver thread of merriment, which ren- 
 dered even painful existence agreeable, and the quaint 
 jokes, fantastic performances, odd innuendoes, cant ex- 
 pressions, and caustic wit sparkled in relief of the dull 
 drag of time, and provoked begrudged smiles on pallid 
 countenances in spite of intense suffering. The writer, 
 then unable to write, cheerfully accepted the proffered 
 services of Capt. Morse, on the " sick, lame, and lazy" 
 list, who kindly volunteered to fill out the writer's diary, 
 and the following is presented as the record of the unre- 
 lenting critic : 
 
 "October 12 to 23. Still at hospital, Army of the 
 Cumberland. Inmates of our room are, 
 
 Chaplain C. Incomprehensible; decidedly orthodox ; 
 always managing to save from dinner enough beef for 
 supper ; is sick, be it remembered, not wounded ; chief 
 pet of the nurses ; when awake, is generally growling ; 
 universally beloved (over the left). 
 
 Lieut. Seltzer. No relation to the water of the same 
 name ; awaiting leave of absence. Not wounded, but 
 has been very sick. 
 
 Lieut. Craven. Recovering rapidly ; very accommo- 
 dating, and cheerfully aiding those around him who are 
 less able to aid themselves than he. A friend in need 
 and indeed. 
 
 Lieut. S., Adjutant Ohio Infantry. Wounded 
 
 through the leg, but rapidly recovering, and entertains 
 
236 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 great fear that he will be able to " navigate " without the 
 aid of crutches before his leave of absence arrives ; 
 wants to go home on crutches to gain more sympathy. 
 (Surmise.) 
 
 Capt. B., One Hundred and Twenty -fourth Ohio In- 
 fantry. Fatherly and kind at times, but his bad wound 
 forces the fact that he is apt to be a little excusably surly 
 at all times. 
 
 Lieut. K. (We dubbed him " Shanks.") Magnus 
 ego ! Wounded ; disabled encyclopaedia ! Great know- 
 all, know nothing; better never attempt to argue, 
 especially on the subject of religion ; he knows it all, 
 every bit. Jack enough to think equal numbers of 
 cavalry far superior to infantry ! What an . 
 
 Capt. Ream, Eighty-sixth Indiana Infantry. Wounded 
 at Kenesaw Mountain through the hand (minie-ball). 
 The very life and joy of the room ; enjoyed by all ; 
 jolly and cheerful all the days ; very obliging and atten- 
 tive to those who "caught it" at the front worse than 
 himself ; has taken a great interest in the owner of this 
 diary, and waits upon him and reads to him faithfully, 
 as well as keeps him cheerful and happy. 
 
 Chaplain Van Valkenburg. " Sweet, melodious voice 
 always sent for, when at home, to sing at camp-rneet- 
 ings." Boasts inordinately of his home, "splendid 
 wife and family." Extraordinarily fond of fresh milk, 
 and takes great comfort in frequently announcing that 
 
OF THE WAR. 237 
 
 he's "going to board with a cow." Good, honest, plain 
 gentleman. 
 
 Capt. Paisley and Lieut. Lord. Both very sick; too 
 ill to be about or leave their cots, and too weak to exhibit 
 personal peculiarities. 
 
 Lieut. Bailey, of the Second Division Staff, Fifteenth 
 Corps. Astray in our u Cumberland " hospital, but his 
 corps hospital is miles away, and his corps is rattling old 
 Hood between here and Chattanooga ; takes great pride 
 in that Fifteenth Corps ' ' old corps of Grant and Sher- 
 man ;" Twentieth Corps nowhere in comparison; has 
 "been very low indeed, but don't know it, too low to 
 make much noise, or to laugh loudly, but hugely enjoys 
 the witticisms and jokes perpetrated by those around 
 him ; bears an ugly wound, narrow escape ; is alone 
 in his opinion that he is able to travel to St. Louis. We 
 hope he will be strong enough in a few weeks. Last, but 
 not least, is 
 
 G., of the Engineer Corps. A long, lean, cadaverous, 
 glassy-eyed, selfish, avaricious fellow, caring entirely for 
 self. Not wounded, of course not ; continually growl- 
 ing at something or somebody, and actually knowing 
 more than all the others combined ; always uneasy, never 
 satisfied ; not sound in the head ; monopolizing every 
 thing, owning every thing, knowing every thing ; never 
 warm; the friend of " niggers " generally ; nurses never 
 doing any thing right ; every thing goes wrong ; says he's 
 
238 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 married ; must be perpetually diseased, and a very unhandy 
 thing to have about a house or in a family, and makes 
 his wife the sympathized being of all who know her hus- 
 band. G., adieu. 
 
 Capt. Morse, Twentieth Connecticut Infantry, Twen- 
 tieth Army Corps. Not very sick, not very well ; fond 
 of billiards ; not fond of hospital or sickness ; a free and 
 easy kind of a fellow, bound to take the world easy." 
 
 But it must be remembered that the volunteer whose pen 
 and ideas were placed at the service of the disabled patient 
 admits he was " not very sick, and not very well," hence 
 in excellent condition to be sorely annoyed and vexed by 
 the "growling and grumbling" of those in much worse 
 condition than himself. Men who are bedridden and suf- 
 fering hour after hour, day after day, are not ex- 
 pected to evince the most amiable dispositions ; neither is 
 it surprising that convalescence should create exuberance 
 of spirits at the prospect of meeting friends at home, 
 which would find vent in frequent "slopping over" in 
 unguarded references to anticipated bliss. 
 
 It was the sixth or seventh day after being shot that 
 the patient's hope was clouded by the kind surgeon in- 
 forming him seriously of the great danger of secondary 
 hemorrhage. After considerately and delicately prepar- 
 ing the way, he said: " We lose a good many that way, 
 and it occurs before or about the tenth day. I have 
 dreaded all along to tell you, but I consider it a solemn 
 
OF THE WAR. 239 
 
 duty, now the time approaches, to do so, and to further 
 say that if it does occur in your case, I see no way of 
 saving you." The desponding patient inquired, 
 
 " And do you think it will occur? " 
 
 " I'm very much afraid of it, and have been expecting 
 it; still, there's a hope, a slight hope, but I'm sorry I 
 cannot give you much encouragement." 
 
 The patient was sad and pensive, the surgeon continu- 
 ing: "If you've any matters to attend ta at home, I ad- 
 vise you to do so at once ; for if it does occur, you'll have 
 but a few moments. You see, from the nature of the 
 wound it will be internal, and we can't control it or reach 
 it, that's the trouble." 
 
 The patient's drooping spirits were not revived by the 
 surgeon's faint attempt to encourage him by urging; 
 u There is a chance in remaining perfectly quiet until the 
 tenth day passes." 
 
 The surgeon departed, but his words had created dark 
 gloom and despondency in the patient's mind. Bright 
 hope dispelled by a cloud of gloom ! Silent thoughts ; 
 gloomy forebodings ; suspense ; cheerfulness fled ; sleep 
 almost impossible. 
 
 "A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear, 
 A stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief, 
 Which finds no natural outlet, no relief, 
 In word, or sigh, or tear." 
 
 The ominous "tenth day" approached,- arrived, 
 
240 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 and, after torturing the patient with the agony of sus- 
 pense, gradually faded away like its predecessors ; sweet 
 hope brightening and beaming as its shadows deepened 
 into the night, safe. 
 
 "Not yet, my boy," said the surgeon with sympa- 
 thy beaming in his countenance, reflecting the brightening 
 hope in the pale features beside him, " not yet; wait 
 until to-morrow morning, and then I'll say you're out 
 of danger." 
 
 Morning came, and very early the kind, interested sur- 
 geon was at the bedside, with warm congratulations. 
 Later, congratulations came from wounded comrades in 
 the room, and new hope brought new life and strength. 
 Hood's destruction of the line of communication with 
 the North, which prevented the approach of friends to 
 Atlanta, did not deter the wounded, who were able, from 
 being safely transferred to the rear. Notwithstanding 
 the wise refusal of the surgeon of the Army of the Cum- 
 berland to indorse or encourage the attempt to obtain 
 leave of absence by daily appearance with helpless right 
 arm in a board sling, and persistent personal application 
 at the "Headquarters, Army of the Tennessee," in 
 Atlanta, the patient did obtain such leave in the latter 
 part of October, and under the fatherly care of Capt. 
 Ream, Eighty-sixth Indiana Infantry, started North in 
 a baggage-car, by rail. The car was full of Union 
 
OF THE WAR. 241 
 
 wounded; those who "caught it" severely being at- 
 tended by those who " caught it " slightly. 
 
 There was a break of only four miles in the railroad, 
 and the intense desire to reach home and the comforts of 
 Civilization was sufficient to overrule the protest of the 
 surgeon, which the patient vainly attempted to treat as a 
 jest by replying, 
 
 " Your advice would be good for the Army of the Cum- 
 berland, doctor ; but folks expect more of the Army of 
 the Tennessee boys." "Well," said the good-natured 
 surgeon, smiling, yet talking earnestly, "remember one 
 thing, Lieutenant: I don't take the responsibility, and I 
 hate to have you go." As the train of baggage- 
 cars filled with wounded slowly moved away, he said to 
 the "slightly wounded" Capt. Ream concerning his 
 4 'severely wounded" protege, "Take good care of him, 
 Captain." The promise was cheerfully given, and more 
 than faithfully fulfilled. The inordinate laughter caused 
 by his excellent humor and flow of wit precluded the 
 possibility of gloom, and tended, for the time, to subdue 
 pain ; and even if ample compensation followed, the mirth 
 was worth the cost. We rested overnight at the southern 
 end of the break, in order to undertake the " four miles " 
 over a rough, hilly road in a springless lumber-box 
 wagon, starting afresh the next morning. The "head- 
 quarters" of the wounded "army" were on the planta- 
 tion of a wealthy, corpulent old planter, whose name was 
 
 16 
 
242 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 not preserved for this volume. The wounded occupied 
 all the spare rooms and porches of the buildings, and the 
 proprietor seemed as cheerful and jolly as any of the 
 company. During the sultry Indian summer evening an 
 incident occurred which will serve to illustrate how slight 
 
 O 
 
 invitations were promptly accepted and small opportuni- 
 ties eagerly seized upon by wounded soldiers homeward 
 bound, to create mirth or amusement. Capt. Ream, 
 with his "choir" (save the mark!), stood in the front 
 yard, and rivalling the other voices of the night, sang, 
 melodiously (?) 
 
 " Old John Brown, he's dead and gone ; 
 
 We ne'er shall see him more. 
 He used to wear an old gray coat, 
 All buttoned down before." 
 
 The old planter proprietor approached and patronizingly 
 inquired of the humorous captain, 
 
 "What do you call that? My stars, gemmen, that's 
 a right purty tune ! " 
 
 "Did you never hear that before, sir?" asked Ream. 
 
 " No, 'pon honah. Ain't thar no mo' varses? " 
 
 "Yes, lots more verses; we'll give you another one." 
 
 The verse was repeated. The corpulent old gent leaned 
 
 upon his stout cane, his head slightly turned to one side, 
 
 and when finished he said, "Now that is fine, sir, fine; 
 
 better'n t'other varse." "But the next verse is still 
 
 better more expression in it," said Ream, looking se- 
 
OF THE WAR. 243 
 
 dately at the old planter and casting a roguish glance at 
 his wounded charge, seated near by and enjoying the 
 "performance." "Then, sir, by all that's good, let's 
 have it, sir," said the old planter. 
 
 The original verse was again repeated. 
 
 The apparently half-suspecting listener bowed his head 
 and exclaimed, 
 
 "Gemmen, that sounds just like the fust varse for all 
 the world." "No, no," quickly retorted Ream; "the 
 music is the same, the music confuses you a little, 
 that's all." "Yes 'twas, sir," persisted the corpulent 
 gent. " Now, you just sing that same varse over agin, an* 
 see?" 
 
 "Oh, we can't repeat, sir," replied Ream; "on ac- 
 count of the extreme length of the programme, there can 
 be no repetition, too many verses, and there's the; 
 chorus. You haven't heard the chorus yet, sir." 
 
 " Well, sir, I'd like it, I know, sing that ar." 
 
 The original was again repeated. 
 
 The corpulent old planter straightened up, with a broad, 
 knowing smile upon his rugged countenance, brought the 
 end of his cane suddenly down, exclaiming, "Storm my 
 buttons, gemmen, if that ain't the same thing, right over 
 and over!" and he hobbled toward his porch, laughing 
 heartily, and informing those he met that "them fellers, 
 sir, are singing the same thing, right over and over, as 
 I'm a sinner;" while the "choir" and "audience" 
 
244: A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 joined in peals of laughter until the portly form had 
 retreated from sight. The jaunt over the four miles of 
 break was a terrible ordeal for the writer ; thence speedily 
 to Chattanooga and to Nashville, where the wisdom of 
 the surgeon at Atlanta was demonstrated. The relapse 
 came, and the writer was ordered and taken to the offi- 
 cers' hospital, while his comrades proceeded homeward. 
 While here, he received many kind attentions and delica- 
 cies at the hands of Mr. H. B. Blood, of St. Louis, of 
 the Western Sanitary Commission. 
 
 To add, if possible, to the danger and suffering, 
 through the carelessness of somebody a serious mistake 
 was made in administering the wrong medicine. Result : 
 delirium, which continued, under repeated doses, during 
 a whole night, when the nurse, alarmed at the effects, 
 summoned the surgeon, whom he would not disturb dur- 
 ing the night, who at once discovered and rectified the 
 mistake, and expressed surprise that results were no 
 worse. The writer was informed that during the night 
 his "audience" no small one was entertained by 
 various military commands: orders to "charge, lie 
 down, aim low, load and fire at will, bring up that 
 ammunition, hurry forward that battery, shoot the 
 cowardly guerillas down," etc. But the person who had 
 unwittingly furnished this rare ''amusement" was only 
 conscious, in the morning, of utter exhaustion, and of the 
 dreaded fact that his wound had recommenced bleeding 
 
OF THE WAR. 245 
 
 freely. Over a week he lay helpless, when, under kind 
 care and careful treatment, he rallied, and on the eighth 
 day of November (one month after the dialogue in the 
 woods) he was again speeding, with other wounded Fed- 
 erals and some Confederates, on a comfortable hospital- 
 car between Nashville and Louisville, in charge of a 
 special nurse, homeward-bound. 
 
 On a bloody cot beside the writer lay a wounded Con- 
 federate, with ghastly countenance and lustreless eyes, 
 who informed his Union companion that his leg had been 
 amputated " close up." Beneath the cots on both sides 
 of the car, soiled uniforms of blue and gray commingled 
 in peace, and the proud eagle of the United States of 
 America condescends to affiliation with the plain, un- 
 graceful pelican of Louisiana, as brass buttons and equip- 
 ments jingle together in harmonious contact. 
 
 November 9. One month after the entry into Atlanta, 
 
 t 
 the writer experienced the great delight of reaching his 
 
 home in St. Louis, and receiving the congratulations and 
 welcome accorded by relatives and friends, some of whom 
 had been deterred from visiting Nashville by daily expec- 
 tation of the present event; but the " reception " proved 
 too much for exhausted nature, which demanded dear 
 "compensation" in the shape of a second dreaded re- 
 lapse. The government authorities peremptorily ordered 
 the patient from his " headquarters," indiscreetly selected 
 
246 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 at the Lindell Hotel, to the quiet retreat of the officer's 
 hospital at Jefferson Barracks, Missouri, situated on a 
 beautiful site on the west bank of the Mississippi, twelve 
 miles below the city, and overlooking the ''Father of 
 Waters." A careful diagnosis of the wound there re- 
 sulted in the physician's opinion that, on account of the 
 fatigue of the trip, mistreatment at the hospital at Nash- 
 ville, excitement upon reaching home, and the enfeebled 
 condition of the patient, it would probably prove fatal ; and 
 the patient's relatives were informed by the " surgeon-in- 
 charge," Dr. Allen, that he saw " no hope of his ever 
 returning to St. Louis." But in spite of evil predictions, 
 and under excellent treatment, aided by delicious quiet 
 and forced rest under the soothing, dreamy influence of 
 morphine, the patient gradually grew convalescent ; but 
 it was nearly six months after that the wound ceased to 
 suppurate, and small splinters of rib and scapula ceased 
 occasionally to be forced out. In the early spring of 
 1865 the writer was able, with helpless right arm laced in 
 a board sling, to visit St. Louis and other places, on short 
 trips or "leaves;" and on one of these occasions the 
 writer was handed by Missouri's war governor, Thomas C. 
 Fletcher, in person, a mysterious envelope, with the cheer- 
 ful remark, 
 
 "It gives me great pleasure, Captain, to present you 
 with this, upon the earnest request and recommendation 
 of the colonel of your regiment." 
 
OF THE WAR. 247 
 
 The envelope contained a commission as captain of the 
 writer's old company in the Sixth Missouri Infantry. 
 
 The formation of a disagreeable abscess near the heal- 
 ing wound; the inconvenience and annoyance of sub- 
 mitting to the process of " washing and dressing " twice 
 each day, and of carrying about a cumbersome board 
 sling to accommodate an almost paralyzed limb for half 
 a year ; the very painful gradual exercises necessary to 
 recover partial use of the member that had borne the 
 4 'brunt; " the pains and aches which had never ceased 
 to predict coming storms (costly barometer!) or to follow 
 ordinary use ; and the pain now produced by the attempt 
 to complete the manuscript for this volume, will consti- 
 tute the concluding reference to the list of dangers and 
 misfortunes which were entailed by the little leaden mes- 
 senger which sped with cruel accuracy from the rifle in 
 the woods. The list will serve to amply illustrate what 
 has been amply demonstrated : that danger to life does not 
 vanish before an entry on the muster-roll of the hopeful 
 word "wounded." 
 
 The patient retained his ' ' headquarters ' ' at this hospi- 
 tal, the recipient of numerous favors and delicacies from 
 relatives and friends, until after the surrender of Lee and 
 Johnston ; when the government, in recognition of the fact 
 that it would no longer require the services, in any event, 
 of its disabled soldiers, granted them, and among them 
 the writer, honorable discharge from further service. 
 
248 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 "Never again call 'comrade ' 
 To the men who were comrades for years ; 
 Never to hear the bugles, 
 Thrilling, sweet, and solemn ; 
 Never again call ' brother ' 
 To the men I think of with tears ; 
 Never again to ride or march 
 In the dust of the marching column." 
 
 The day when we received the last report that Rich- 
 mond was taken, an incident occurred at the barracks 
 worthy of mention. Upon receipt of the "glorious 
 news," the dark storm-clouds which had hovered over the 
 earth began to clear away, and as they were rolled to- 
 gether and pushed by the western breeze away in the 
 eastern sky, golden sunlight streamed from the western 
 horizon, and painted in bold relief against the massive 
 bank of retreating clouds a suggestive bow of peace, 
 with a brilliancy and clearness seldom witnessed. It 
 formed a complete shining arch over the barracks flag- 
 pole, from which fluttered the "storm-flag" of the garri- 
 son, its colors washed brighter by the storm, lit up with 
 new beauty by the sunlight, and rendered still more 
 glorious in contrast with the gloom beyond it. How typi- 
 cal of the situation! War-clouds, dark and dismal, re- 
 treating before the sunlight of peace! The old flag 
 straightens in the breeze as if conscious of its triumph, 
 and descending pearly mist furnishes the coup-de-grace 
 to a scene of exquisite beauty. 
 
 "Honor to thee, flag of the free, 
 Emblem of sweet Liberty! " 
 
OF THE WAR. 249 
 
 With the restoration of peace came the restoration of 
 communications between the North and South. The 
 promise of October 8, 1864, was remembered and 
 eagerly fulfilled. A note was directed to Mrs. Ham- 
 brick, at Decatur, Georgia, another, another which 
 was promptly responded to by Mrs. H., and a long 
 and interesting correspondence followed. Communica- 
 tions were also promptly established between the writer 
 and the Freemans, and indirectly with old Aunt Mary. 
 Numerous missives and photographs fluttered between 
 the delighted correspondents, all in care of " Uncle 
 Sam," and the writer's Georgia friends seemed over- 
 joyed to learn of his escape, and that he was still alive. 
 Mrs. Hambrick had frequently inquired of soldiers of 
 Garrard's cavalry as to the condition of the writer, and 
 had been considerably confused by conflicting reports. 
 Her sister, she wrote, would not be satisfied that he 
 reached Atlanta alive, until the receipt of his first letter 
 from St. Louis. So incredulous was she, that, after the 
 Federals had left Atlanta on the " march to the sea," she 
 drove to the Federal burying-ground near that city, and 
 spent the day in diligent search for the name of the writer, 
 which she felt confident she would find ornamenting a 
 crude head-board. 
 
 The writer has ample evidence completely identifying 
 Fowler and Singleton. He knows their full names, 
 places of residence, occupations, and standing, and 
 
250 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 would willingly give them to the public if he was 
 not bound in honor to withhold the information. 
 The writer has trustworthy information that Singleton, 
 being pressed, admitted the whole affair, implicated Fowler, 
 and corroborated the statement made by the writer to Mrs. 
 Hambrick; that he pleaded, apart, with Fowler, during 
 the conference in the woods, to spare the captive's life, 
 but that Fowler was unyielding, and determined to shoot 
 the captive, "because he had found out his name, and if 
 he escaped to tell it, the Yankees would kill him and burn 
 his house! " Singleton seemed to regard the affair as a 
 good joke: that they "took a Yankee and a 'nigger' 
 into the woods to kill them, and let 'em both get away." 
 Singleton also admitted that he wore blue clothing. The 
 writer has also what he considers ample evidence to the 
 effect that Fowler was frequently interviewed by friends 
 of the writer, but fear restrained confession ; that Fowler 
 protested his innocence, but threatened that " if any man 
 or woman brought him into the scrape, he'd make 'em 
 smoke." On another occasion, he threatened that "if 
 any man or woman reported him to a Yankee, he would 
 leave friends enough behind to see that he or she paid 
 the forfeit of their lives for it." On another occasion, 
 he announced that "whoever reported him would be 
 punished with death." Upon being confronted, on an- 
 other occasion, with the admission of Singleton implica- 
 ting him, he replied, 
 
OF THE WAR. 251 
 
 "Ah, just let him go on ; but if any one has me taken 
 up, and troubled about it, I have friends left behind, here, 
 that will wreak vengeance in blood." On another occa- 
 sion, during a discussion concerning the "affair," he 
 was asked his opinion of such conduct, and " he declared 
 he thought it no sin, that God took no cognizance of 
 any acts done in time of war." 
 
 To add insult to injury, it was diligently circulated in 
 Mrs. Hambrick's neighborhood, and that lady was sol- 
 emnly assured, shortly after the shooting, that the Yankee 
 officer she had harbored was one who had escaped from 
 Andersonville prison-pen, a wild, daring, reckless des- 
 perado, a heartless, dissipated, and profane villain, who 
 had been "prowling about within the Confederate lines, 
 committing all manner of depredations too horrible to re- 
 peat ; " and he also enjoyed the unenviable reputation of 
 being " that formidable dare-devil scout in Sherman's 
 army, widely known as c Devil Jim' " (whoever he may 
 be). It is not necessary to modestly quote the glowing 
 accounts of how the "patent falsehoods" were promptly 
 refuted, nor is it difficult to opine whence they came. It 
 is sufficient that the infamous falsehoods, manifestly ad- 
 duced as a counter-irritant, failed of their object. 
 
 "Fowler" having denied participation in the affair, 
 the writer took steps to satisfy himself, beyond a doubt, 
 of his guilt or innocence. It is not deemed necessary 
 to lengthen the details of this undertaking, nor to disclose 
 
252 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 either the friends or the artist who were instrumental in 
 executing the writer's purpose ; suffice it to state, that in 
 due time the writer became possessed of an excellent 
 "picture," which he instantly recognized as that of the 
 person who recaptured him in the woods and who told 
 him his name was "Foster," but whose "comrade" 
 unwittingly addressed as "Fowler," and from which the 
 wood-cut in this volume was obtained. 
 
 In 1866, the "situation" in the neighborhood of Mrs. 
 Hambrick was such that she was solemnly warned, and 
 felt insecure in her person and home by reason of her 
 well-known correspondence with the object of her kind 
 care and solicitude in 1864 ; and at her suggestion, letters 
 were addressed to her at Atlanta. It was also deemed 
 advisable to resort to a ruse to insure to her peace of 
 mind, and protection from secret threats or possible 
 injury or damage. Accordingly, a letter was directed to 
 her at Decatur, in the fine handwriting of a lady friend, 
 Miss Susie A. Williams, then of St. Louis, purporting to 
 be from the "sister" of the writer, informing her of 
 the death of the writer from the effects of his wound, 
 and thanking her for her great kindness to him. Another 
 was forwarded by Judge James K. Knight, also then of 
 St. Louis, to the same effect. The writer was then a law 
 student in the latter's office. These "sad" missives, 
 bordered with deep mourning were duly exhibited to the 
 " proper parties " and to their " suspected friends," who 
 
OF THE WAR. 253 
 
 seemed more at ease upon receipt of the "truly sad" 
 intelligence, and Mrs. Hambrick's misgivings vanished 
 upon the cessation of significant inquiries, coupled with 
 gratuitous observations and taunts, and she enjoyed a 
 long season of a feeling of perfect security, while through 
 the Atlanta post-office, ten and a half miles away, there 
 was maintained continually an interesting correspond- 
 ence with the "deceased," who received his letters from 
 Atlanta under the name of " Jno. Patton, Esq." This 
 ruse was successfully maintained for a period of about 
 fourteen years, and the paramount desire and determina- 
 tion not to endanger the personal security, welfare, or 
 peace of mind of Mrs. Hambrick on any account, fur- 
 nishes ample explanation of the withholding of this 
 volume from earlier publication. The lady now resides 
 in Atlanta ; the reason of the withholding is by herself 
 considered no longer extant, and the long-withheld 
 "secret" is consequently spread broadcast. Through 
 the perusal of this volume, undoubtedly, will the " inter- 
 ested parties ' ' be first apprised of the ' ' blissful igno- 
 rance " with which they have been blessed, and in which 
 they have slumbered for the past fourteen years, and 
 for which they ought to thank Mrs. Hambrick ; but the 
 surprise may also bring relief to guilty souls, through 
 the consoling influences and operation of the Statute of 
 Limitations. 
 
 In 1868, the writer had occasion to transact legal busi- 
 
254 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 ness with one of the most eminent statesmen and the 
 greatest soldier of the age, Gen. Grant, who was then at 
 the "Dent residence" on the old Gravois Road, a few 
 miles west of St. Louis. The writer was cordially wel- 
 comed by the late commander of the old army to which, 
 he had belonged, and after the transaction of business^ 
 the General said, 
 
 " So you were in the old Army of the Tennessee. 
 That was a grand army ; I'm always glad to meet a sol- 
 dier of that army. By the way, what has the Convention 
 done?" (Referring to the Democratic Convention of 
 1868, who had on that very day nominated his political 
 opponent for the presidency.) 
 
 " They have nominated your opponent, General." 
 
 " Have they? " said he, quickly. " I haven't heard of 
 it; who did they nominate? " 
 
 " Will you guess, General? " 
 
 "Well, I guess Hendricks." 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Hancock?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Well, I don't know who to guess, now." 
 
 "Seymour." 
 
 "What! Seymour? And who for vice-president?" 
 
 "Frank Blair." 
 
 The hero of Appomattox looked out upon the storm 
 which was raging, as the two sat upon the broad porch, 
 
OF THE WAR. 255 
 
 suddenly bit a piece from the end of his cigar, and turn- 
 ing squarely toward the writer, said : 
 
 " Well, the soldiers will not vote for Seymour; " and 
 gazing thoughtfully at the rain-drops pattering on the 
 outer edge of the porch a moment, continued, "Well, 
 I'm surprised they've nominated Blair." 
 
 Mrs. Grant now appeared from within, and also in- 
 formed " Mr. Grant " of the nominations. 
 
 The storm continued, and the General urged the writer 
 to stay until a cessation of its fury. The conversation 
 turned to army experiences, and finally to the writer's ad- 
 venture with Fowler and Singleton. The General became 
 much interested and listened attentively, at short intervals 
 interposing sharply the single word, " Villains ! " At the 
 close, the General asked, 
 
 " And you say you know the names of these men, and 
 where they now live? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, found it all out since the war." 
 
 " Well, now you know all about these fellows, what do 
 you propose to do? " 
 
 " I don't know what is best; but I am certain that as 
 long as Mrs. Hambrick's interest requires it, nothing will 
 be done with my sanction." 
 
 "That is a very sensible conclusion, however much 
 satisfaction would be afforded in seeing the villains pun- 
 ished." 
 
 The weeks and months glided swiftly by, and stronger 
 
256 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 and stronger grew the desire to revisit the friends and 
 scenes of hardship and danger in the South. Encouraged 
 by the frequent, earnest pleadings which came from that 
 direction, the desire ripened into intention, and the latter 
 was soon after reduced to certainty as to time. Without 
 apprising his Southern friends of his intention to revisit 
 them, the writer perfected his arrangements and left St. 
 Louis, southward bound, on 
 
 February 17, 1870. The old battle-fields of bloody 
 Mission Ridge, Resaca, and Kenesaw Mountain were 
 passed successively ; the familiar scenery surrounding each 
 were objects of great interest to the writer ; and in due 
 time he again stood in the improved streets of recon- 
 structed Atlanta. Before venturing further, the writer 
 called upon the officer commanding, Gen." Terry, briefly 
 related his former experience near Decatur, and made 
 known the purpose of his present visit. 
 
 The General assured him that there was not the slight- 
 est danger to travellers in his department, and of the 
 entire safety in the proposed trip ; but it was arranged 
 that if the writer did not report within a few days, a 
 squadron of cavalry should investigate the cause of ab- 
 sence. A jaunt of six miles by rail eastward, and he 
 reached Decatur. En route he passed over the battle- 
 field of July 22, 1864; recognized remnants of earth- 
 works, and the unguarded railroad-cut through which the 
 
OP THE WAR. 257 
 
 Confederates swarmed and gained the rear of the Fed- 
 eral lines on that fearful day. As the train emerged from 
 the cut, he looked back to the very spot where he was 
 captured, while on the other side of the railroad was 
 marked the spot where noble McPherson fell. As the 
 visitor alighted at the Decatur depot, he naturally enough 
 glanced in the direction of the recapture. There stood 
 the remnants of the old entrenchments in the distance, 
 and further to the right still stand those awful woods. 
 The very sight of them causes an involuntary shudder ; 
 danger seems to hover in the very atmosphere about 
 them. The hands instinctively rest upon concealed as- 
 surances of ability to repulse the imaginary enemy. 
 
 " Do I know where Mrs. Hambrick lives?" repeated 
 the Decatur postmaster, and looking inquiringly at the 
 writer. "Well, yaas ; she lives about four mile down 
 that road." (Pointing.) 
 
 " Thank you, sir," and the writer departed in the indi- 
 cated direction. The informer eyed the stranger closely, 
 and bawled out after him, 
 
 " They say she tuck care of a sick Yankee durin' war- 
 time; be you him? " 
 
 (Thunder and lightning ! Is it possible ?) 
 Turning partially around, the stranger responded : 
 "I know about it, sir. I was down this way, and 
 thought I would deliver a message to her from the gentle- 
 man's friends, and try and return to Atlanta to-night." 
 
 17 
 
258 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 (I thought I was undoubtedly dead in this neigh- 
 borhood. Village everybody knows everything about 
 everybody. How could that old cogger suspect me of 
 being a dead man? ) 
 
 " A village is a hive of glass, 
 "Where nothing undescried can pass." 
 
 After a rapid march over the road he last travelled in 
 an ambulance, he arrived at the gate before the humble 
 residence of Mrs. Hambrick. At the gate stood her boy 
 Isaac, then about eleven years of age, whom the visitor 
 recognized at once. 
 
 " Does Mrs. Hambrick live here? " 
 
 "Yes, sir," he politely replied. 
 
 The writer walked in the gate, in the door. (There 
 she is!) "Good evening," spoke both together. She 
 eyed the visitor suspiciously, as if half suspecting who he 
 was. 
 
 " This is Mrs. Hambrick, I believe? " 
 
 She nodded in the affirmative. 
 
 "I was requested to call here, madam, by a Mr. 
 Bailey, of St. Louis, and thank you in his name for 
 your many acts of " "Yes, exactly," said she, inter- 
 ruptingly, " and do you know that I believe you are Mr. 
 Bailey himself. You can never conceal that voice in this 
 world. Oh! how do you do? how do you do?" and 
 without further ado she fell upon the visitor, and, in the 
 enthusiasm attending the undignified reception, upsetting 
 
OF THE WAR. 259 
 
 chairs, demolishing wearing apparel, totally demoralizing 
 the astounded visitor; and, in the attempt to devour 
 him, actually created "confusion worse confounded" 
 by knocking off a wig the visitor wore, in a vain endeavor 
 to cultivate a luxurious growth of hair. 
 
 Well, such a "wooling" and " hazing" need not be 
 envied even as an expression of affection. The "Con- 
 federate" onslaught was so sudden and unexpected, and 
 made with such a reckless disregard of personal comfort, 
 that the "Federal" force was completely surprised, 
 speedily overpowered, and ignominiously and uncondi- 
 tionally surrendered. 
 
 The successful assault over and the wig feature 
 explained, the whole family mustered and cordially 
 greeted, and comparative calm followed the storm of 
 congratulations and merriment. The "desultory sput- 
 tering" which followed, continuing the entire evening 
 until near midnight, was of course directed to the- 
 scenes and incidents of '64. Every one had "lots" to* 
 say, and all wanted to say it first. For more than a mor- 
 tal hour Mrs. Hambrick's front-room resembled a cage 
 of magpies. John, a brother of the hostess, was sent 
 for, and promptly reported. The writer had not for- 
 gotten his kindness in placing on his head, while bidding 
 him good-bye in '64, his best hat. After persistent 
 refusals, he finally accepted double the highest estimated 
 value of a new hat, with interest more than compounded 
 
260 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 from October, 1864. Then John was happy, and taking 
 down his violin, in a manner more spirited than artistic, 
 rattled off a lively but rather indefinite tune, which 
 elicited the applause of the company. 
 
 "What's that called, John?" asked the writer. 
 
 "That," replied John, straightening up, consider- 
 ably flushed with his effort and success " that's called 
 4 Hell broke loose in Georgia. ' ' 
 
 The visitor now undertook what afforded him rare 
 pleasure, the distribution of mysterious packages. As 
 they were opened by their recipients, Mrs. Hambrick 
 exclaimed, 
 
 " No, sir, no, sir, no more of this, sir ; we shall not 
 accept. You have already paid us over and over again 
 for our small services; take this back, sir." "We did 
 not take care of you for money ," chimed in Mrs. Ham- 
 brick's sister, indignantly. 
 
 The writer pleasantly but firmly assured them that to 
 imagine that he estimated the value of their services with 
 money, was to impugn his motives to such an extent as 
 would make their refusal to accept his small gifts a posi- 
 tive insult. Thereupon, reluctant acceptance was followed 
 by a shower of thanks, from which the bestower of the 
 humble gifts reaped ten times their value. 
 
 The next day, the visitor ventured forth to find his 
 other friends in Georgia, promising to return. There 
 was a short jnunt by rail to Covington ; en route, old 
 
OF THE WAR. 261 
 
 Stone Mountain was passed, an object of great interest 
 to at least one passenger who had seen it before. It 
 looms up now as grandly as when it overlooked contend- 
 ing armies. Now we pass Lithonia, Conyers, both of 
 which the writer had visited and viewed before, b}^ star- 
 light, and arrive at C. ; thence by private conveyance 
 about eight miles, to the plantation near Oak Hill to 
 which they had removed and upon which resided the 
 Freemans. Shortly after dark there was a knocking at 
 the door of the humble log-cabin home, followed by an 
 invitation to "come." The driver of the conve3 r ance 
 and the writer stepped within. All the driver knew was 
 that the writer was seeking "Freeman's" as a suitable 
 place to spend the night. (There sat Mr. and Mrs. Free- 
 man.) A cordial "good-evening" passed all around. 
 
 The writer, profiting by the experience with his betray- 
 ing voice at Mrs. Hambrick's, had instructed the driver 
 to request accommodations for the stranger for the night, 
 which he did. 
 
 "Certainly, certainly," responded Mr. F. 
 
 The driver warmed himself for a few moments, and 
 returned to Covihgton. He had hardly closed the door, 
 after bidding us "good-night," before Mr. Freeman said 
 to the visitor, " I reckon I've seen you before, sir." 
 
 "Possibly." 
 
 Mrs. Freeman now exclaimed: "Oh, that's you, 
 George! I knowed you the minute you came in." Of 
 
262 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 course, cordial greetings followed ; after which the writer 
 inquired for the "girls." 
 
 ''Where is Siss and her family? " 
 
 "They live about a mile down the road, and will be 
 crazy to see you." 
 
 Inquiries followed as to Nancy, who was also married, 
 and living a few miles distant ; and Betsy? 
 
 "Well, Betsy; poor Betsy is dead and buried." 
 The writer had not before learned of that recent fact, and 
 every countenance was sad. After supper, " Mig," who 
 had grown from a small boy to a strapping " six-footer," 
 accompanied the visitor to the humble log cabin of young 
 Mr. Freeman and his wife, Siss. A plan a ruse a 
 knock an entry. 
 
 "I am mending clocks," said the visitor, disguising 
 his voice ; " have you any to mend? " 
 
 "No, sir," responded Mr. F. Siss looked at the 
 stranger a moment, and replied, 
 
 "Yes, sir; an' I know you, I'll never forget them 
 eyes; how d'ye, George?" Mig stepped in, in time to 
 join in the hearty laugh which followed. The rather 
 mystified head of the young family, young Mr. F., was 
 then introduced, and the writer said to him, 
 
 "They wouldn't introduce us, sir, when we slept in 
 the same house in '64, when we were in our uniforms." 
 
 "No, sir; they were sheered. If they had, though, I 
 wouldn't a' gone back to Andersonville again, I tell yer; 
 
OF THE WAR. 263 
 
 I'd gone plumb into your lines with you. I scolded 'em 
 about it when they tol' me of it afterwards." 
 " What was your duty at the 'pen,' Jake?" 
 "I was a guardin' Yankee prisoners." (Here's an 
 opportunity. ) 
 
 4 ' How were our boys treated down there ? ' ' 
 " Oh ! like dogs, worse than dogs." 
 " I'm glad I didn't get there, bad place, eh?" 
 u You may thank God you didn't, sir." 
 " I don't like that dead-line I've heard about." 
 " The dead-line was a mere trap. What I saw there 
 sickened me, sir. Wh}', the feller who killed a Yankee on 
 the dead-line got a furlough for diligence, fact, sir. I've 
 seen some of our boys throw crackers and things just 
 outside the dead-line, and then shoot the first poor, 
 starved cuss who reached over for 'em, so he could get a 
 furlough. That was too much for me, sir; I'd rather go 
 without my furlough ; that was murder, and nothin' else." 
 "I'm very glad I concluded not to ' visit ' there." 
 u Between the furloughs and the bloodhounds, the 
 Yanks didn't have much show, I tell yer." 
 
 The conversation was prolonged away into the night. 
 The attempt to return to old Mr. Freeman's was met with 
 a decided repulse ; so, after we had almost talked our- 
 selves to sleep, there was retirement sleep daylight. 
 When the visitor presented himself for morning saluta- 
 tions, he observed three bright pledges of affection gath- 
 
264 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 ered about their young mother, and peering shyly at the 
 stranger. It was not difficult to discover that the little 
 ones had been neatly "fixed up" for the occasion, as 
 they met the writer with bright eyes and sunburnt faces, 
 
 " Shy as the antelope, 
 Brown as a berry." 
 
 1 'This," said the young mother, illy concealing her 
 pride, and pressing toward the stranger the shrinking- 
 form of the eldest, a bright four-year-old, "this is 
 George Bailey Freeman." The writer's namesake, of 
 course, was made the object of his special admiration. 
 It was not a great while before the visitor secured the 
 confidence of the children, and romped and capered with 
 them as one of four. 
 
 After breakfast, the entire family escorted the visitor 
 back to the residence of the old folks, where a very pleasant 
 reunion was held, and the incidents of '64 again recalled ; 
 after which each of the family were presented with a mys- 
 terious package, and " Georgie " received an extra recog- 
 nition, in grateful acknowledgment of the attempt to per- 
 petuate an unworthy name and memory. It afforded the 
 giver, of limited means, much consolation to feel that even 
 his humble gifts were fully appreciated, and constituted 
 much to afford relief and secure additional comforts. A 
 trip of a couple of miles, to the residence of Mrs. Nancy, 
 including all of the company who were able to go, fol- 
 lowed. Meeting recognition greeting merriment. 
 
OF THE WAR. 265 
 
 While here, a group of neighborhood lady callers entered ; 
 polite introductions followed. 
 
 "A Yankee officer, eh?" repeated one of them, and she 
 entertained the company by relating how several Yankee 
 officers stopped at her house about the time when Sher- 
 man " marched to the sea," and slept on her front porch 
 " until near mornin,' when our folks tuck 'em. Ah me ! " 
 "Well," she continued, "it makes me sick to think 
 on't." " Why so ?" inquired the writer. "It's a common 
 thing to capture prisoners; I was captured myself." 
 "Aye, Lord ; but these were shot and kitted !" "Indeed? 
 Tell us all about it, please." "Well, you see, 'twas 
 'bout daylight. There were six on 'em sleepin' on my 
 front porch, and a company of our folks caught 'em, and 
 marched the hull six on 'em off back o' my house, in the 
 woods. I put my head out o' my upper back winder to 
 know what was goin' on. I heered our folks tell 'em, 
 4 Say yer prayers ; ' and sich pitiful pleadin' I never did 
 hear. I heered 'em say, 'O my poor wife!' 'O my 
 poor mother ! ' and sich, and they did beg pitiful fur their 
 lives. Then I heered some low prayers, and then, bang ! 
 bang! bang! a few times, then there was a low moan 
 or two, and all was still. Our folks came back and 
 marched off without even biddin' us good mornin'." 
 
 "Do you think their conduct was soldierly or honor- 
 able ? ' ' inquired the visitor, who had listened throughout 
 with intense interest. 
 
266 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 " Honorable ! Why, if I hadn't been undressed I should 
 have gone out there an' pleaded for their lives myself; 
 but I knowed it wouldn't a' done no good, nohow. 
 Our folks were all strangers to me, too. Ah me! (with 
 a sigh) we had often heered, afore that, shots scatterin' 
 like five or six in a bunch off in the timber, and 
 then we all knew what they meant! " " What became of 
 the bodies of these officers? " asked the writer. "Waal, 
 I was a goin' on to say, they were just barely kivered 
 with leaves, and left jus' so, until they were half eat 
 up by the hogs; then our niggers buried 'em." 
 
 "How far from here did this happen, madam?" in- 
 quired the writer. 
 
 "Why, you can see (stepping to the door and point- 
 ing), that's my house, right over the rise thar ; thar's 
 the porch, you can see, and right back of the house, 
 in the woods thar, is their graves." 
 
 "And you don't know their names or regiments? " 
 
 "No, sir; our folks left nothin' on 'em, not even 
 all their clothes. I heered 'em call each other ' capt'n,' 
 'major,' and sich. They didn't pester us, only slept 
 on the porch, didn't come in." 
 
 After the visiting ladies departed, packages labelled 
 "Nancy" were delivered, and thankfully received. 
 Then we returned to Freeman's. At dinner, the vis- 
 itor noticed that, contrary to custom, he received his 
 cup of coffee last, and endeavoring to divine a reason 
 
OF THE WAR. 267 
 
 for it, he observed that the only spoon on the table was 
 used first for the family, and then turned over to the 
 visitor, and slyly borrowed again by Mrs. F. , if required. 
 In order to force an explanation, the writer slyly placed 
 his cup beyond her reach. "Please let nie take your 
 spoon a moment," said Mrs. F. The spoon (a coarse 
 leaden one) was passed and returned, which presented 
 a favorable opportunity for the visitor to inquire, 
 
 " Is this a family spoon, Mrs. F. ? " 
 
 "Well, yes, I reckon it is; we borrow it when we 
 have company." (Possible! so poor as that?) 
 
 " Borrow it! Don't you own even one?" 
 
 " No, I don't own even one." 
 
 Not many weeks after, the Freemans received by ex- 
 press a box of articles from St. Louis, which had been 
 filled by memorandum taken in Georgia, which embraced 
 various useful and ornamental articles, from an abundant 
 supply of large and small spoons down to rubber rings 
 for teething babies. 
 
 Four days after the arrival at Freeman's, the writer, ac- 
 companied by young Mr. and Mrs. F., was conveyed to 
 Covington, where the train was boarded and a hearty 
 good-bye spoken, and soon the visitor reached Decatur, 
 thence to Mrs. Hambrick's, where another welcome 
 awaited him. At the writer's request, old " Aunt Mary," 
 who lived several miles away, had been sent for from Mrs. 
 Hambrick's, and word was awaiting the writer that his 
 
268 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 faithful old colored friend would be awaiting his arrival at 
 the appointed time and place indicated by the messenger. 
 
 The next day, the appointed time, mounted on Mrs. 
 Hambrick's horse, the visitor repaired to the meeting- 
 place, which the faithful woman had walked seven miles 
 to reach. As he approached his old friend, she excitedly 
 raised both hands, loudly exclaiming, 
 
 u Bless de Lord ! Bless de Lord ! Dat's him ! Dat's 
 m J boy! Dat's him! " He had hardly dismounted when 
 he was unceremoniously and affectionately enfolded in 
 her dusky arms, and for some moments was unable to 
 extricate himself without seeming very rude ; beside, he 
 had no heart to resist her embraces. 
 
 She repeatedly assured the writer, who deprecated the 
 necessity of her long walk, that "she'd walk her feet 
 off" to see him, and reminded him that "I always told 
 you dat I thought as much of you as of one o' my own 
 chillen." We sat beside the road, for we met on the 
 road, and for nearly an hour talked over the incidents 
 of 1864, when our guns were thundering before Atlanta. 
 She assured the writer that she waited not a moment 
 when he sent for her, and that if his other colored friends 
 knew of his presence, "a whole regiment" of 'em would 
 be there. She was accompanied only by one of her 
 daughters, who had been one of the writer's "pickets" 
 in 1864. They were duly presented with a small roll of 
 
OF THE WAR. 269 
 
 44 government obligations" as an earnest of gratitude 
 and respect, bade a hearty good-bye, and the old friends 
 parted. 
 
 The return to Mrs. Hambrick's was followed by a day 
 of rest and pleasant retrospect, and the pleasant visit was 
 ended. 
 
 The facts connected with the attempt to " muster out," 
 as herein related, were established to the satisfaction of 
 the government, and the services and suffering of the 
 writer handsomely recognized by the latter in a substan- 
 tial manner, the intrinsic value of which is of no conse- 
 quence compared to the value of the recognition of duty 
 performed in honorable service. 
 
 The would-be murderers need have no apprehensions on 
 account of the disturbance of their "blissful ignorance " 
 of the earthly existence of the writer, which will* be 
 created by this volume. They will not be tried for their 
 crime before a "jury of their peers; " nor has the writer 
 any desire to be tried for a rash act before such "peers ; " 
 nor will he follow the beastly example of countenancing, 
 as retaliatory or otherwise, the dark and cowardly arts of 
 the assassin, but will rather exclaim, with the old philoso- 
 pher who finally succeeded in placing the annoying in- 
 sects in his power, "Go, poor devils; there's room 
 enough in the world for both thee and me. ' ' 
 
 Here, properly, this "Private Chapter" draws to a 
 
270 A PRIVATE CHAPTER 
 
 close. The writer respectfully submits that, from the 
 facts within his limited experiences as herein related, the 
 following conclusions may readily be reached : 
 
 I. That the whole South was not in sympathy with the 
 war against the Union ; that there was much in the 
 Southern maxim, "The rich man's war, and the poor 
 man's fight; " and that in numberless instances the poor 
 were the mere victims of circumstances which placed 
 them under the control of the aristocracy of wealth, and 
 that while necessity forced action, very many of the 
 actors bore no real enmity against the government ; that 
 with them it was not a matter of choice, but "they were 
 mere floaters on the tide of public sentiment, which their 
 standing on the social scale permitted them neither to 
 control nor to stem. 
 
 II. That the negroes at the South, as a class, were 
 opposed to the enemies and true to the friends of our 
 government, and were ever ready and willing to render 
 aid and comfort and to make cheerful sacrifices, by day 
 or by night, for our unfortunate straggling " boys in 
 blue," to whose interests and welfare they generally 
 evinced a remarkable degree of fidelity. 
 
 III. That localities should not always be condemned 
 because of the unlawful acts of a few ; for the vicinity 
 that produces outlaws and fiends to wound, may also be 
 capable of furnishing angels to save and comfort the 
 wounded. 
 
OF THE WAR. 271 
 
 IV. That nobility of soul cannot be bound within the 
 narrow confines of sectional prejudices, but, when oppor- 
 tunity is presented, is capable of asserting itself in spite 
 of bitter enmities naturally engendered by civil war. 
 
 V. That among the real enemies of the government 
 there were at least a few whose prowling proclivities 
 found ''duties" at the rear, as a pretext to avoid the 
 dangers which threaten soldiers at the front beasts of 
 prey in human form, whose cowardly instincts compelled 
 them to seek only safe opportunities to vent their spleen 
 against the government by adding the crime of murder 
 to that of treason. 
 
 VI. That actual test is the severe but proper criterion 
 by which to determine physical ability to endure exposure 
 and hardship, or to survive the effects of severe bodily 
 injury. 
 
 THE END. 
 
THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SANTA CRUZ 
 
 This book is due on the last DATE stamped below. 
 
 JAN 2 '80 
 
 JAN201980REC' 
 JAN 22 1991 ,, 
 
 SEP151999BEC'B 
 
 507n-l,'69(J5643s8)2373 3A,1 
 
U 
 
 3 2106 00061 1449