Next morning one or two of the party had chills, and we rested for the day. We soon learned that a Federal cavalry command had dropped in behind our army, and so we were cut off. Had we gone on in the morning we would probably have been captured during the day. Learning how we could find parallel roads leading in the direction we wished to go, late in the evening we started, traveled a few miles and slept in the woods. The next morning we moved on until ten o’clock, and meeting a ten-year-old boy on a pony in a lane, we asked him if he knew where we could get something to eat. He said there was a potato patch right over there in the field. We asked him to whom it belonged, and he answered: “It belongs to my uncle; but he is laying out in the brush to keep out of the army;” and told us that his uncle lived up on the hill a short distance ahead of us. We did not go into the potato patch, but went up to the uncle’s house. The house was a fairly good one, and in the front were two good-sized rooms with a wide, open hall. As we marched up to the rail fence in front of the house a woman came out into the hall, and we could see that the very looks of us aggravated and annoyed her. By way of getting acquainted with her, Dodson said: “Madam, have you got any water?” In a sharp, cracked voice, she answered: “I reckon I have. If I hain’t, I would be in a mighty bad fix!” Having it understood that Dodson was to do the talking, we marched in and helped ourselves to a drink of water each, from a bucket setting on a shelf in the hall. During the next few minutes silence of the most profound sort prevailed. We stood there as if waiting to be invited to sit down and rest, but instead of inviting us to seats she stood scowling on us as if she was wishing us in Davy Jones’ locker or some similar place. Hood and myself finally moved a little towards the front of the hall, and the following dialogue took place between Dodson and the woman: Dodson: “Madam, we are soldiers and are tired and hungry. We have been marching hard, and last night we slept in the woods and haven’t had anything to eat. Could we get a little something here?” “No, you can’t. I don’t feed none of your sort. You are just goin’ about over the country eatin’ up what people’s got, and a-doin’ no good.” “Why, madam, we are fighting for the country.” “Yes, you are fightin’ to keep the niggers from bein’ freed, and they’ve just as much right to be free as you have.” “Oh, no, madam; the Bible says they shall be slaves as long as they live.” “The Bible don’t say no sech a thing.” “Oh, yes, it does,” said Dodson, gently; “let me have your Bible and I’ll show it to you.” “I hain’t got no Bible.” “Madam, where is your husband?” “That’s none of your business, sir!” “Is he about the house, madam?” “No, he ain’t.” “Is he in the army, madam?” “No, he ain’t. If you _must_ know, he’s gone off to keep from bein’ tuk to Ripley and sold for twenty-five dollars.” “Why, madam, is he a nigger?” “No, he ain’t a nigger; he’s just as white as you air, sir.” “Well, madam, I didn’t know that they sold white men in Mississippi.” “No, you don’t know what your own people’s a-doin’.” During the conversation I kept my eye on the lowest place in the fence. What she said about being sold for twenty-five dollars was in allusion to a reward of that amount offered by the conscript authorities for able-bodied men who were hiding in the brush to keep out of the army.