The firing above us on the bank became more intense. An officer who was on the boat with us, returning from a leave of absence, a.s.sumed command. He ordered us to fall into line, and marched us into a little ravine, halted, and told us the position and necessity of the occasion. He said the fort was a very important position, and must be held at all hazards; that there were only two hundred colored troops there, and they could not hold it.

Now, he proposed, as we had no arms, to go in with a rush and a yell, and make those rebels think that re-enforcements had arrived. All this time the musketry firing was increasing. The whizz of bullets through the air and about our heads were becoming too frequent. I was in the front rank, center of the line, and I tell you I think I had a little of that frightened smell about me at this time. Whether it was that or my looks or what, the officer probably took pity on me and told me to skirmish in the rear. I hardly knew where the rear was, but I thought it would be safer under the bank of the river, and there I hastened, and none too soon, for the rebels had made a break through the lines and poured several volleys into our poor, unarmed re-enforcements. The rebs became more cautious, and that was what was wanted, as the only hope we had was to hold them at bay until re-enforcements could arrive.

Well, I skirmished in the rear, and I found it hotter than the front, for the rebs would crawl to the bank at either end of the breastworks and kept a cross-fire up and down the river. Under and against the banking, there was a sort of old barn; this was filled with hay. The bullets were flying around so thickly that I squeezed myself behind this barn, and after I was well in, the bullets just rained against that old building; but I felt pretty secure till I looked up overhead--I saw that while I was in safety from bullets, a worse danger threatened me. The overhanging bank was liable to cave in and bury me alive.

The uncertainty of my position became more and more apparent. Each moment the increased storm of bullets on the barn prevented me from even looking out, and the constant rattling down of dirt and pebbles from above, told me plainly what a position I was in. I tell you I wished then I had never been mustered in. The uncertainty of my position was soon developed. I came to myself and found I was buried to my neck; my head and face were cut and bleeding, and a soldier was trying to wipe the sand from my eyes and ears. I found I had not been shot, but the banking had caved in and buried me. Gen. "Baldy" Smith, who was in command, happened to see me behind the barn just as the bank caved in. It was he who put the soldiers at work to rescue me. As soon as I was out, and the dust out of my eyes, the general rode down to the beach, leading an extra horse; he called to me. Ordered me to mount. I did so. He made me his orderly.

A new danger. I was to carry dispatches across the field, but I did not now have the fear I did at first. I did not mind the sound of the bullets. I became accustomed to it, and I rode back and forth all day long without a scratch. I believe I was so small that I rode between those bullets, and from that time forth I had no fear. I felt as though I were bullet-proof. I felt as if it were ordained that I should go through the war unscathed and unscarred. It did seem so, for I would go through places where it rained bullets, and come out without a scratch. This was my experience all through, and was commented on by comrades, who said I had a charmed life. Well, the day wore away the rebs making feints first at one point, then another. Finally they concentrated their forces against one point, and would have carried it, too, but just then a steamboat loaded with troops rounded the bend of the river. Well, the shouts that went up from the handful of brave soldiers at the sight of that boat I never can forget. The boys on the boat caught the sound. They took in the situation, and answered back the shout with three long, hearty cheers. It created consternation in the rebel lines. They knew the jig was up, but they drew up in line, like dare-devils that they were, and with a cool deliberation, poured volley after volley into the side of the steamer until her nose touched the sh.o.r.e. Well, to see those soldiers leave that steamer was a sight never to be forgotten. They jumped overboard from every part of her.

It did not seem five minutes from the time she touched sh.o.r.e until the banks were swarming with our boys in blue. The rebels had taken to flight--our boys followed some distance, and then returned, relieving us and allowing us to embark again for City Point. After the rebels had retreated, I went outside the breastworks, and the sight that met my eyes on every side would curdle the blood of stouter hearts than mine. It appeared that Lee, with his cavalry, had surprised the pickets, and being negroes, every one they captured they would hang up to a tree after they were mutilated. I saw several with fingers cut off in order to obtain a ring quickly, and many other sickening sights which tended to make me a hardened soldier. I was having lots of experience, even before I had really reached my regiment, and I tell you, the heroic ardor of my boyish dream was beginning to ooze out of me quite fast. I began to think I was not cut for a soldier.

Well, my first battle was over, my first experience before an enemy. The first sound of musketry had died away, and we were again steaming towards City Point to join our regiments. We arrived there the next night about ten o'clock. There didn't seem to be any one in command of us or any one to direct us. It was very dark on sh.o.r.e, but in the distance you could see a glaring light above the horizon, as if there was a long building on fire. But from the occasional sound of guns from that quarter, I made up my mind it was the advance line of our army. It was Butler's command, and our regiment, the Eighth Maine, must be there. The Eighth Maine, Company H, was the regiment and company to which my brother belonged, and in which I was enlisted. I started out across the fields in the direction of the light--on, on I tramped, into ditches, through mires, over fences. The farther I went the faster I went. I was so impatient I could not hold myself to a walk; it was a dog-trot all the time. I was heedless of every obstacle, till I began to near the front. I realized the danger by the whizzing of sh.e.l.l, and the zip, zip of bullets. I found myself among lots of soldiers, and how ragged and dirty the poor fellows looked. I asked the first man I came to where the Eighth Maine was? He looked at me in perfect astonishment. "This is the Eighth, what's left of it." I asked him if he knew where my brother was--Charley Ulmer? "Oh, yes," he said, and pointing to a little group of men, who were round a wee bit of a fire; "there he is, don't you know him?"

I hesitated, for really I could hardly tell one from the other. He saw my bewilderment, and took me by the arm and led me over to the fire. They all started and stared at me, and to save my life I could not tell which was my brother; but one more ragged than the rest uttered a suppressed cry, rushed forward, and throwing his arm about my neck, sobbed and cried like a child. "My G.o.d! my brother! Oh George, George, why did you come here?"

His grief seemed to touch them all, for they all began to wipe their eyes with their ragged coat-sleeves. This began to tell on me, and for the next ten minutes it was a kind of a blubbering camp. After awhile they reconciled themselves, and began to ply me with questions faster than I could answer. My brother sat down with me and lectured me very soundly for coming, as there was no need of it. He gave a graphic description of the hardships they had endured, and I can never obliterate the picture he presented that night. His clothes were ragged and patched, begrimed with smoke, grease and dirt; his hat an old soft one, with part of the rim gone and the crown perforated with bullet holes; his beard scraggly and dirty; his big toes peeping out of a pair of old boots with the heels all run down, in fact, he was a sight--a strong contrast to my tailor-made suit. I will never forget the expression on my brother's face when about half an hour after my arrival he looked up to me with his eyes half full of tears glistening on that dirty face, and with a kind of cynical smile, asked, after looking me over and over: "What are you, anyhow?"

I told him I didn't know.

"Well, after you have been here awhile, those pretty clothes won't look as they do now, and you will probably find out what you are after you have dodged a few sh.e.l.ls."

Our conversation was brought to a climax by orders to break camp and fall in. We learned we were going to embark somewhere on a boat; everything was hustle-bustle now; little sheltered tents were struck, tin cups, canteens, knapsacks were made ready, and in about fifteen minutes that begrimed, dirty, hungry family of Uncle Sam's was on the march to the river. We were marched on board an old ferry-boat, and crowded so thickly that we could scarcely stand. My brother seemed now to feel that he had the responsibility of my comfort, even my life, on his hands--and being a favorite he elbowed me a place at the end of the boat, where we could sit down by letting our feet hang over the end of the boat. In that position we remained. We didn't have room to stand up and turn around. I was awful sleepy, but dared not go to sleep for fear I would fall overboard. Finally my brother fixed me so I could lay my head back, and he held on to me while I slept. The next morning we landed at a place called West Point, on the York river; why we landed there we didn't know. Of course soldiers never did know anything of the whys and wherefores; they only obeyed orders, stood up or laid down and got killed--they had no choice in the matter. Well, we landed, and I tell you, we were stiff and hungry. While they were unloading the horses, which was done by lowering them into the water and letting them swim ash.o.r.e, which took some time, they allowed us a chance to skirmish for food. About half a mile from the river were a dozen houses--nice-looking places. Towards these we started; they were all closed up; they all looked deserted; there was not a sign of life, except the cackle of hens or chickens in the hen-house. Chickens were good enough for us, and I was one of the first to get to the pen; secured two handfuls of chicks, and was just emerging with them when a big woman confronted me; she stood and looked me straight in the eye, and with both hands held on to a mastiff, that to me looked as big as an ox.

"How dare you?" said she.

"I don't," said I.

"What are you doing with my chickens, you good-for-nothing Yankee thief?"

I tried to apologize, but it was no use. Even my pretty uniform had no more effect than my eloquence. I simply put Mr. and Mrs. Chicks down and backed out of the yard. She was good enough to hold on to the dog, for which I was very grateful. I think I had more respect for the dog than the lady. However, I had to resort to pork and hard tack for my breakfast.

About noon that day we began our march. Where we were going, everybody guessed, but none knew. I didn't care. I was now a kind of a half-settled soldier, but from the first, I was a kind of privileged character. No one gave me orders. No one seemed to claim me. I had never been a.s.signed to any company. I never had to answer roll-call. I could go and come as I pleased. Once in awhile a guard would halt me, but not often. They didn't know what I was, and they didn't care. All the afternoon we marched. Our route was along the railroad, the rails of which had the appearance of being recently torn up by the rebels. About four o'clock I was becoming very tired. We came to a clearing, and some distance in the field was a darky plowing with a mule. I made a break for him, and the rest of that march I rode. No one objected, but the boys shouted as I made my appearance on the mule; a mile or two further along we sighted a farm-house. I drew reins on my mule and made for the house; I made the boys glad on my return, for I secured a demijohn of applejack, a big bundle of tobacco, and a box of eggs. That successful raid gave me courage, and I began to think that was what I was destined for, and I liked it first-rate, for it was a pleasure to me to see those poor, hungry boys have any delicacy, or even enough of ordinary food.

That night we had to halt, for the rebs had burned the bridge, and we had to wait for pontoons. The boys were tired and hungry. A guard was posted to prevent any foraging, but I was a privileged character, and I bolted through the lines. I had seen some pigs and calves scamper into the swamp about half a mile back from where we halted, and thinking a bit of fresh meat would be nice for the boys, I determined to have some. Cautiously I stole away, till I arrived at the edge of the swamp; and such a jungle! It was almost impossible to penetrate it, so I skirted the edge, hoping to see a pig emerge. After tramping an hour I was rewarded by seeing a calf.

I drew my revolver, sneaked up and fired at poor bossy. It dropped--I was a good shot--but when I reached the poor beast I found it was as poor as a rail and covered with sores as big as my hand. I was disappointed, but cut off as much as I could that was not sore, and took it to camp. We put the kettles on the fires in short order, and my brother's company had fresh meat broth--the first fresh meat in a month--and I tell you it was good, even if it had been sore. After that episode Company H claimed me and dubbed me their mascot. I accepted the position, and from that time forth I devoted my time to foraging, stealing anything I could for my company, and I doubt if there was a company in the whole army that fared better than ours, for I was always successful in my expeditions.

After a long, tedious march across pontoons, over corduroy roads, we confronted the Johnnies at "Cold Harbor." It was here that I found myself in a real, genuine battle. I got lost in the scuffle. I found myself amidst bursting sh.e.l.l and under heavy musketry fire. I was bewildered and frightened. I did not know which way to go. I ran this way and that, trying to find my brother and regiment. Every turn I made it seemed I encountered more bullets and sh.e.l.ls. Soldiers were shouting and running in every direction, artillery was galloping here and there, on every side it seemed they were fighting for dear life. On one side of me I saw horses and men fall and pile up on top of each other. Cannon and caissons with broken wheels were turned upside down, riderless horses were scampering here and there, officers were riding and running in all directions, the sh.e.l.ls were whizzing through the air, and soldiers shouting at the top of their voices. Everything seemed upside down. I thought the world had come to an end. I tried to find shelter behind a tree, away from the bullets, but as soon as I found shelter on one side it seemed as though the bullets and sh.e.l.ls came from all sides, and I lay down in utter despair and fright. I don't know how long I was there, but when I awoke I thought the war was over, it was so still. I thought every one had been killed on both sides, excepting myself. I was just thinking I would try and find a live horse, ride back to Washington and tell them that the war was over, everybody was killed, when my brother tapped me on the shoulder and asked me where I had been. He had gone through it all, escaped with the loss of one toe, and had come to the rear to have it dressed and find me.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Desperate Charge of Confederates to Capture a Union Battery._]

The next morning I was sent with the "Stretcher Corps" under a flag of truce to the battle field to help take the wounded to the rear and bury the dead, and when we reached the scene, how well could I imagine what the awful struggle had been. The worst of the great conflict had occurred in an orchard, and there the sight was most appalling; dead and dying heroes were lying about as thick as a slumbering camp would be, sleeping with their guns for pillows the night before a battle; to many of those poor fellows it was that sleep that knows no waking, while to others it was the awaking from unconsciousness by the twinges of a mortal gaping wound, awake just long enough to get a glimpse of the Gates Ajar, sink back and start on that journey from which no traveler returns.

Blue and the gray were mingled together on this awful field of slaughter, and both sides seemed to respect the solemnity by a cessation of hostilities, and the hushed silence was only broken by the painful cry of some helpless wounded, or dying groans of others. The little white cloth we wore around our arms to denote, we belonged to the stretcher corps, seemed to add to the sadness of the occasion, for to those poor wounded souls we were like ministering angels, and as I moved from one to the other with tear dimmed eyes offering water and a.s.sistance to those who needed it I saw many incidents of bravery and self-sacrifice that went far toward ameliorating the suffering and obliterating the bitterness of the blue and the gray. I noticed one poor fellow who had spread his rubber blanket to catch the dew of the night sharing the moisture thus gathered with an unfortunate confederate who had lost a leg. Another, a confederate was staying the life-blood of a union officer by winding his suspenders around the mangled limb. Oh! the horror of such a picture can never be penned--or told, and contemplated only by soldiers who have been there.

One-half of our regiment had been killed or wounded. After this things settled down into a siege. I employed my time foraging for the company.

One day I found an apple orchard, gathered as many apples as I could carry, took them to the company and made apple-sauce without sweetening.

They ate very heartily of it, poor fellows. It was a treat for them; but it was a bad find, for the next day the whole lot of them were unfit for duty. That nearly put a stop to my reconnoitering. Our regiment lay here in the advance line of breastworks for thirteen days. The sappers and miners were constantly working our breastworks towards the enemy, and every time I wanted to reach my company I found it in a new place and more difficult to reach. The rebel sharpshooters, with their deadly aim, were waiting for such chaps as me. However, under cover of night, I always managed to find and reach the company with some palatable relish.

I will never forget one night; four men were detailed to go to the rear for rations. The commissary was located about two miles to the rear, and the wagon could only haul the rations within one mile of us on account of jungle and rebel sharpshooters. Therefore these men were detailed to pack the rations the rest of the way. I was one of the detail from my company.

We went back to the covered wagons that were waiting for us. The boys said I was too small to walk, and they threw me into the rear end of one of the wagons. We got to the commissary tent--a long tent open at both ends--and from both ends they weighed out the rations of coffee, sugar, etc. While the soldier who was doing the weighing on one end had his back turned, I managed to fill my haversack from a full barrel of coffee that stood at the end of the tent. I had two haversacks for that purpose, for I went there with that intent; but I came away with only one filled. I could not get a chance for the other; it was on the wrong side. Finally the rations were all aboard, and we started back. The boys repeated the operation of throwing me into the wagon again, and there was my opportunity. I would fill my other haversack from the bags in the wagon; that's what the boys expected I would do, and I did from the first bag I could get into. Each company had its own bag.

When we arrived at the breastworks my company crowded around me for plunder. I divided it up, and was looked upon as quite a hero, but when the rations were issued it was found our company's bag was short about thirty rations of sugar, but no one said a word. It was surmised that it got spilled. Day after day our regiment lay there and our army did not seem to gain anything. I was becoming disgusted and discouraged.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _My First Day in Front of Petersburg._]

One night the Johnnies made a charge on us. That was the only time I ever fired a gun in the whole war, and I honestly believe I killed a dozen men, for immediately after they stopped firing. It was only a few moments, however; on they came, only to be repulsed. They kept that up nearly all night, and I served my country by standing down in the trench, loading a gun and pa.s.sing it up to my brother to fire. I did this all night, but I didn't see any less rebels in the morning. Our next order was to fall back, under cover of darkness. We fell back about a mile and halted for some reason, I thought to get breakfast. Anyway I built a little fire behind a stone wall, put my coffee-pot on and the remnants of a pot of beans. They were getting nice and hot; my brother and I stood waiting, smacking our lips in the antic.i.p.ation of a feast, when whizz came one of those nasty little "Cohorn" mortor sh.e.l.ls and it dropped right into our coffee and beans. Then the bugle sounded, "fall in," and we started with downcast hearts and empty stomachs, and a longing good-bye to the debris of beans and coffee. It was a tiresome march. Of course, we didn't know where we were going, and that made it all the longer.

We eventually brought up at White-House landing on the York river, where we were put on board of a steam transport without being given time to draw rations. From there we steamed down the York and up the James river to the Appomattox, and up the river to Point of Rocks. We landed here on the Bermuda Hundred side, in the rear of Butler's works, obtained some bread and coffee, and then crossed the Appomattox on pontoons and pushed on towards Petersburg. Our regiment belonged at that time to the 2nd brigade, 2nd division of the 18th corps, commanded by Major General "Baldy" Smith.

We soon met the enemy's pickets in front of Petersburg. They fled before that long, serpentine file of blue-coats like deer. On, on we went. We could see the rebels running in their shirt sleeves, throwing coats, guns and everything in their mad flight. I don't think there was a shot fired on either side 'till we reached a fort, Smith I think it was called. It was just at dusk. This fort was located on a mound or hill with a ravine in front of it. Our brigade was drawn up in line of battle in a wheat-field on the right. A colored brigade was ordered to charge the fort from the hill opposite, and across this ravine; then I beheld one of the grandest and most awful sights I ever saw; those colored troops started on a double quick, and as they descended the hill, the fort poured volley after volley into them. The men seemed to fall like blades of gra.s.s before a machine, but it did not stop them; they rallied and moved on; it was only the work of a few minutes. With a yell they were up and into that fort, and in less time than it takes to tell it, the guns were turned on the fleeing rebels. Here was the greatest mistake of our greatest commander. All of our army was brought to a standstill by some one's foolish order. Not another move was made. We lay there waiting, and all night long we could hear the trains rumbling along on the other side of the Appomattox river. Lee had been outwitted. We had stolen a march on him. We had arrived in front of defenseless Petersburg, and could have gone right in and on to Richmond without a struggle. But that fatal order to halt gave him all night to hurry his forces from Cold Harbor, and in the morning we found plenty of determined rebels in front of us, and thereby the war was prolonged months and hundreds and thousands of lives lost. I swore all night. I kicked and condemned every general there was in the army for the blunder I saw they were making. I only wished I could be the general commanding for one hour. But it was no use; I couldn't be.

I was nothing but a boy. But I had my ideas. I thought, perhaps, more than some of the officers did. I kept myself posted on facts and the topography of the country. The dispositions of generals was a matter of grave importance to me. I believed generals should be selected to command, NOT for their qualifications in military tactics alone, NOT because they had graduated well-dressed from "West Point," but for their indomitable pluck, judgment and honesty of purpose. It did seem to me that some of our best officers were invariably placed in the most unimportant positions and commands. Take, for instance, "Custer's" Brigade of daring men, headed by those intrepid officers, Alger and Towns, wasting their time and imperiling the lives of thousands of good soldiers around "Emettsburg,"

"Gordonsville," "Bottom Bridge," carrying out the foolish orders of superiors in command. Why could not these officers of cool judgment be with us at this critical moment?--they made THEIR victories, what would they have done had they the great opportunities that were presented to others who failed?

All night about the camp-fire the boys would delight in nagging me--getting me into arguments and debates. They called me the "midget orator of the Army of the Potomac." I will never forget one night soon after the advance on Petersburg; we were cl.u.s.tered about with coffee cups and pipes; an argument waxed warm in regard to the possibilities of the war lasting two more years; finally I was called upon for my views.

"Midget," said Col. McArthur, "if you had supreme command of our army, what would you do?"

What would I do? If Uncle Sam would give me one regiment from each State in the Union--give me Grant, Burnside, Sherman, Sheridan, Custer, Alger, Hooker, Hanc.o.c.k, Thomas and Siegel to command them, I would take Richmond and settle the rebellion before they had time to wire and ask Stanton if I should. This was received with cheering and applause. But my boyish fancies and ideas were never gratified; I never had the pleasure of seeing my ideal army together, and Richmond was not taken for many months afterward.

A few days after our regiment was drawn up in line of battle in a wheatfield. It was just nightfall. I was lying down on the bank of a ditch waiting for the move-forward. Suddenly a sh.e.l.l came over my head and bust right in the center of my company. I thought I saw legs and arms flying in all directions.

I started on the dead run for the rear. I believed I was going right, but it seemed as if the sh.e.l.ls were coming from our own guns in the rear. I thought they had mistaken us for the enemy. I could see the sh.e.l.ls coming, and every time they would fire, I would fall on my stomach, and thought they all went just over my head. I was soon, however, out of range, and began to feel easy, when a new fear took possession of me. What if I had, in my bewilderment, run into the rebel lines? I saw just ahead of me an old-fashioned southern mansion, with a high board fence all around it, and in the inclosure several small cabins used for the slaves to live in. I could not remember seeing this before, so I made up my mind I was actually inside rebeldom. However, I decided to make the best of it, and if I were or were not I would see if I could find something to eat. With fear and faltering steps I moved toward the big gate, swung it open, and it gave an awful squeak as it swung on its old rusty hinges. There was not a sign of life in or about the place, and that gave me hope and courage. In the center of the yard was a large hen-house. Cautiously toward this I crawled, heard the cackle of fowl, went first on one side then on the other, looking for the door; and imagine my surprise, the fear that took possession of me--my hair stood on end; for sitting there on a bench back of this hen-house were two big Johnnies. I couldn't speak, I couldn't move, till one of them said, "Good evening, sar; got anything to eat?"

"Yes, yes," I stammered, "I have some hard-tack." Finally, one of them seeing I was most scared to death, spoke up and said, "Don't be alarmed; we are only deserters and want to give ourselves up; show us to headquarters." I was brave now. I gave them what hard-tack I had, and marched them ahead of me back to the rear, till we found headquarters.

Afterward, I was offered a furlough for capturing two of the enemy. I never told this before; I took the credit. But I was not satisfied; I'd rather have some of those chickens than live rebels. So back I went and I got five; started back to the rear, put a kettle on a fire and boiled them, kept them three days, till I found my brother and the remnant of the regiment. When I did find them I made their hearts glad by showing them the boiled chickens. They were awful hungry and set to eating with a ravenous appet.i.te, but they could not eat them, hungry as they were. I had no salt, and so put a big chunk of salt beef in the pot instead of salt, consequently the chickens were saltier then Lot's wife.

I think I felt more disappointed than anybody, so I determined to make up for it in some other way. The regiment finally brought up in the first or advance line of breastwork, and I was still skirmishing in the rear for anything that I could find that was good.

I had tramped back to the rear about three miles, my mind bent on securing anything that would please the heart and eye, or tickle the palates of the brave fellows who had gone to face the enemy and do the real work of our country. About a quarter of a mile to the left of me I espied a covered wagon moving toward the front. I wondered what it was and where it was bound for, as from the frequent halt it made, it seemed the driver was lost to himself. I bore down toward him and found it was a sanitary wagon, loaded with good things sent out by the ladies of the north. The driver was an old man--one of those long, lanky individuals who might be taken for a parson or a horse dealer. He reminded me of the "Arkansaw Traveler."

His clothes were of the salt and pepper homespun goods, a little worse for wear and very ill fitting, they looked as if he had lost fifty pounds of flesh since he started from home; his pants were tucked into a pair of old cow-hide boots; his hat was a cross between a stove pipe and a derby; his hair was red, very long and sprinkled with grey; his eyebrows were s.h.a.ggy, nearly meeting over the nose and hanging down over a pair of faded blue eyes. So wrinkled was his skin that you would think his face was a frozen laugh; a little strip of red hair ran down the side of his face in front of his ears and almost met under his chin; the s.p.a.ce left open in his whiskers, evidently an outlet for the tobacco juice that trickled down from each side of his mouth. As I approached he pulled up his mules and called to me in a rather cracked voice, "Say, Major, or Sergeant, or what ever you are, whar's the field hospital?"

"Three miles from here," said I, pointing backward.

"What's that firin I hear? Ain't no rebs 'round yere, be thar?"

"Yes," I replied; "there's a long row of them about half a mile in front of us, and you had better halt right where you are. What's your cargo?"

"Wall, I got most anything that is needed by you poor fellows--useful things. I'm sent here by a society called the Northfield First Methodist Ladies' Relief and Sanitary a.s.sociation. They selected me for my courage to go to the front and distribute this load. But I guess I'll have to go too near that row of rebs if I'd give them out in person. I'll unhitch here and feed my mules. You don't think thar's any danger of them grey-coats disturbing me, do you? I should hate to have all these good things fall into their hands."

I inquired what he had, to which he replied with apparent amazement: "Shirts, stockins, bakin' powder, condensed milk, canned apples, peaches, Boston beans, tobacco, hair oil, tooth powder, cathartic pills, Jamaiki ginger, and fine tooth combs----Whoa thar--stop your infernal kickin. Them durned mules are worse than two-year-old heifers."

The wearied animals had become all tangled up in the harness, and I thought I'd steal some of the eatables for my company while he was freeing and feeding the mules. He gave me a better opportunity however. There was a patch of peanuts or groundnuts a short distance away. He asked me to mind his mules while he went to see what they were and how they grew. When he left me I got into the wagon and loaded myself down with everything until I could carry no more. Then I conceived an idea, and if he would only remain away long enough I could carry the thing out. I found a small hatchet in the wagon, and with my tin cup began digging a hole near the wagon. I worked like a beaver for awhile, at the same time keeping my eye on the peanut patch. The size of the receptacle would be determined by the length of time the old man remained away. Finally I got a hole made about the size of a bushel basket, and thought I'd take no more chances. I scrambled into the wagon and threw out cans of milk, etc., until the hole was completely filled. I had just nicely covered it up when my friend returned and asked:

"What YOU been diggin' for thar--them durned things too? Why, durn them, I'd just as lieve eat raw beans."

I looked up in a guilty sort of way and told him, "I was digging for a sh.e.l.l that lit there while he was gone."

"Ge-whiz! I guess I'd better get out of this place as quick as I can. I say, Mister, whar's your Comp'ny?"