I had to cross Cache river at Gray’s Ferry. As a boy I had known Dr. Gray but he did not know me. I went to the house, introduced myself, and showed him my furlough. He asked when I crossed the Mississippi. I told him. Had I walked all the way? I told him I had. Was I any relation of Judge Bevens of that district? I told him Judge Bevens was my uncle. He finished by saying, “You have walked all the way from St. Francis river and have not stolen a horse?” I told him I was a gentleman, not a horse thief. He said, “Certainly, I will put you across the Cache river.” He called to a negro to bring two horses, and we rode about a mile to the ferry. There a man met us with a skiff and took me across. I went on my way and began to know the landmarks. When I reached the fork of the roads, (one leading to Augusta; the other to Jacksonport), I sat down to rest. Jim Howell, the deputy sheriff rode up. He looked at me for a minute, then shouted, “Why, is that you, Bill Bevens, what in hell are you doing here?”
I showed him my furlough and told him about my journey. He made me ride, while he walked to his house, a few miles up the road. Then he put a little negro up behind me to ride some miles further.
I met Bill Campbell, who lost a leg at Shiloh. He wanted me to stay and talk, but I was headed for home and would not stop. I went on to Colonel McCoy’s at Tupelo. I spent the night with Bruce Waddell. He lost a leg at Shiloh. It was the first time I had seen him since. I helped carry him off the field. It was a happy meeting, and we talked nearly all night. He sent a little negro with me to Village Creek. I crossed in a canoe and walked the rest of the way—six miles—to Jacksonport.
Home again! Was it only four years ago that the Jackson Guards had marched to the Presbyterian church to receive its banner from loving hands? How many miles we had traveled. How many battles we had fought. How many wretched homes and blazing cities we had seen. The sorrows, wounds, sufferings and deaths of centuries were crowded into those four years. Oh, the pity of it!
I went straight to my sister’s home. Her little girls were dressed in long clothes, “playing lady.” Their mother was at a neighbor’s and one of them went for her, not telling her why she was wanted at home. Her surprise at seeing me was great, and our meeting joyous beyond words.