mmmi m m i ijj, Hi: W,- r.^ ■^^ IN AND OUT OF THE LINES IN AND OUT OF THE LINES AN ACCURATE ACCOUNT OF INCIDENTS DURING THE OC- CUPATION OF GEORGIA BY FEDERAL TROOPS IN 1864-65 BY FRANCES THOMAS HOWARD NEW YORK AND WASHINGTON THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 1905 '■;-i-yf!ijrJii i..ury } COPYRIGHT, 190S BY FRANCES T. HOWARD TO THE WOMEN OF THE SOUTHERN CONFEDERACY WHO YET HOLD DEAR THE FOUR IMMORTAL YEARS OF OUR PAST, THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED BY The Author. PREFACE The account which is here presented was written in 1870, but circumstances made its pubhcation at that time impracticable. It tells with absolute truth the experience of one Southern family during the year 1864-1865. There are to-day living witnesses who can testify to the accuracy of the recital. The story of the war itself, of the battles which were fought and of the victories which were won by our fathers and brothers, has been carefully writ- ten up. There were officers on the field whose duty it was to make reports, and since the struggle ended men of ability in the interest of history have searched out these reports, have sifted the truth from the fic- tion, and have written up the story for those who come after us. But in the homes of the South, and particularly in those districts which were between the lines occupied at one time by Federal Troops, at another by the Confederates, there were no com- manding generals or subordinate officers to submit reports of what occurred, and no historian to write out the happenings of each day, and yet in these homes were enacted some of the most heroic deeds and some of the grimmest tragedies of the war. Here the South was represented only by her women and children, but they often suffered hardships as great as were endured on the field of battle, and in all their trials they showed an unfaltering devotion to the cause. Their story should be written out. It should not be written in any hostile or un- friendly spirit, because to-day we are again a united people ; the Southern States are once more a part of the Union, and the Southern mothers of to-day are ready to make for that Union every sacrifice which could be asked of true patriotism and loyal devotion. Only three years since, when we were involved in war with Spain, Southern mothers sent their sons to fight for the old flag, and the prayers of Southern women were offered on every hearthstone for its suc- cess. But as a matter of history, the events and doings of those years ought to be written out. As a matter of common interest the story ought to go down to future generations, so that in times to come the whole world may know, and particularly the peo- ple of the South may know, something of the suffer- ings of the Southern women in 1864-65, and some- thing of the courage and devotion with which they did their part. The Author. Cement, Ga. A/^ril 12, 1905. In and Out of the Lines. CHAPTER I. IN the spring of 1 864, about the middle of May, my father left the Confederate Army — then at Dalton, N. Ga., some thirty or forty miles distant — and came to tell us that the army was retreating, and that we must go before it. We begged him to let us re- main, for we well knew what the fate of refu- gees was. To this he at length consented, then returned to his command. At four o'clock J)n the morning of the 1 8th of May one of our servants awoke us to say that the army was passing. Dressing hur- riedly we hastened to the upper gate, which opened directly upon the public road. A heavy gray mist at first concealed nearly everything from view, save objects only a few feet distant, but as the morning advanced the fog lifted, and as far as the eye extended nothing could be seen but a moving mass of men and horses. The rail and wagon road — only a few feet apart at the gate — run parallel for a mile. 6 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. For that distance we could see clearly. Such a multitude ! I felt inclined to agree with our old nurse, as she stood with uplifted hands, exclaiming, "I did not know dere was so much people in de worl' ! " The long night's march appeared not to have fatigued the men at all. They laughed and joked with each other as they passed, and occasionally gave us the cheering assurance that they were *' going to Hck Sherman and be back next week." Several soldiers stopped at the creek and made their toilets, and one poor fellow, having scrubbed his face until it was scarlet, came up to Janet with a Bible in his hand. Stut- tering horribly, he asked her to keep it for him as it was too heavy to carry longer, and he could not throw it away. On every avail- able blank spot he had written *'levi Bartlett his Booke." The advance of Hardee's Corps, to which my father and brother belonged, now came in sight, and just as we were asking for the 63d Georgia, my brother hailed us. He had hurried on to tell us to meet my father at the lower gate. We ran to the house to give him breakfast, then hastened to the gate and found my father already there. Faint and exhausted with the night's march, splashed with mud and grimy with the smoke of the camp-fire, he looked what he was — IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. f a thorough Confederate soldier, who had stepped from the ranks a moment to say good-by to his wife and children, whom he might never see again, and who did it with a brave spirit and cheerful voice that they might feel the parting less. We gave him some refreshment and then a last good-by was said. There was no time to grieve. We had much to do, and but a short time to do it in. My father had told us to collect the stock and send them off, for if we were prompt there was yet time. The negroes were perfectly wild with ex- citement and incapable of anything, so we undertook the task ourselves. Janet and Sophy ran up to the hill pasture after the flock of four hundred sheep, while Maria and I busied ourselves collecting provisions for the overseer and servants who were to drive the stock. In a short time Janet and Sophy returned with the sheep, and after driving them to the upper gate Janet went to the house and Sophy and I to the stables. The overseer and house boy had packed the wagon and everything was now ready, but one of the men had gone to his mother's house, half a mile off, and must be sent after ; so mount- ing the boy on my pony Gipsey we told him to bring the man back as quickly as possible. 8 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. A half hour passed, still the boy did not return. We took the horses to the gate and waited. The overseer at length volunteered to go in search of the missing ones, and jumping on Effie, Sophy's pony, away he went. We were in the midst of a cavalry brigade, the men continually telling us that if we did not hurry the Yankees would catch the stock. The overseer had now been absent as long as the boy. *'Sophy," I said, "we can't stand this any longer." "No," she replied ; "I am going after them. Hold the little bay while I buckle this girth." The bay, a half-broken four-year old, and nervous as a fine lady, was snorting and paw- ing with such excitement that it was with difficulty I held her while Sophy put her foot into my hand and sprang into the saddle. With a bound the bay was off, over the creek and tearing through the lines of cavalry that opened to let her pass. Sophy's pink dress soon vanished amid the countless gray jack- ets, and I remained waiting in painful sus- pense ; but I had not long to suffer, for she soon returned, bringing the lost ones with her. Then the cavalcade started with many misgivings as to its final destination. From this time until five o'clock we busied ourselves waiting on the soldiers and distribu- ting among them a quantity of clothing de- IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 9 signed for a regiment in Virginia, but which that regiment was destined never to see. At five o'clock we observed the cavalry in motion, where they had planted a battery on the hill just across the railroad, about two hundred yards from the house. We were wild to see the fight and ran to the brow of the hill, though the soldiers tried to make us go back. Presently the battery opened and the ene- my turned and scampered up the road. At this moment our old nurse appeared at the kitchen door waving a large iron ladle as she shouted to the Confederates, " Go it, my brave boys, go it!" The enemy retreated a half mile, took an- other road and soon appeared on the other side of the house. The Confederates (Kel- ly's brigade of Mississippians) formed on the lawn, and over ditch and fence charged up the hill. Away went the Yankees, this time the Confederates following, yelling as only Confederates can yell. After a four miles' chase the two parties stopped at Mr. Burton's place and fought. One hundred and thirty-five prisoners were taken and eighteen of the enemy killed. Mc- Pherson's Corps coming into view, our men beat a hasty retreat, unfortunately leaving behind them Colonel Earle, the commander of an Alabama regiment. He had sworn 10 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. never to be captured, and when surrounded and ordered to surrender, he shot the man issuing the order. Of course he was instantly killed. The next morning he was buried, in his trousers and shirt, on the terrace near Mr. Burton's window, and to this day the grass is green over his grave. The skirmish, including the chase, took but a short time. Long before sunset the Confederates returned, bringing with them as prisoner a Major Grant, who had lost both horse and sword in the fight. Two years after one of the farm hands, while cleaning up the old field, found the sword and the skeleton of a horse concealed in a blackberry thicket. Among the Confederates who returned to speak to us was a Dade County boy about seventeen or eighteen years of age. His attire was in a very dilapidated condition. This was especially true of his hat, which, rimless and very nearly crownless, displayed to advantage a shock of sandy hair. He rode a wiry little mountain pony, almost concealed by an enormous cavalry saddle, with a bright blanket and a broad, gilt breast-strap. Evi- dently the saddle and trappings had been intended for a much larger steed than the shaggy little fellow that then waddled under it. "Hello!" said one of the soldiers, as the IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. il boy rode up. "If that ain't Dave Pease with a new saddle. Say, Dave, while you was a-gettin' a saddle why didn't you try for a hat, too?" "Try for a hat!" said the lad. ''Didn't I try? I seed a Yank with a bran new one, an' says I, ole feller, I'm a-goin' to snatch you ball-headed. I tuck good aim at him, but the pony he got skyured and jumped jist as I fired, so I missed the Yank and killed his horse. I liked to have been pulled to pieces among them blasted bushes afore ever I could stop the pony. When I did git him stopped and rid back, the Yank were gone and had toted off his hat. But he'd left everything that was on the horse. Here's his haversack and his gal's pictur in it. But Lord! Lord!" he added with a sigh ; "I did want his hat." It was now quite late, so we went into the house and carried upstairs everything we could, the soldiers helping us with the heavier articles. We filled one room with provisions and kept the others as bedrooms. Worn out with fatigue and excitement I went to bed at twelve o'clock and slept soundly for a few hours. The Confeder- ates left before daybreak. This morning, like the previous one, dawned amidst a heavy fog. Three pickets, in gray overcoats and mounted on gray horses, were stationed on 12 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. the hill a short distance in the rear of the house. Just in front of them the fog seemed to have settled more heavily than elsewhere, entirely hiding them as well as ourselves from the enemy who were not more than fifty yards distant. We carried our men their breakfast, which they ate sitting on their horses, and while there we distinctly heard the Yankees talking. Between us was a rail fence, and on it perched a large, white roos- ter still enjoying his nap. "Look at that fellow," said a picket in a whisper. "The Yanks will make a good breakfast of him." "No they won't," said Sophy, as she softly crept to the fence and laid hold of the unsus- pecting fowl, who gave a loud squawk as she bore him off in triumph. "Run, run ! " cried the picket. "The Yanks have heard you." We scampered over the stile, while our friend dashed around the corner, lying flat on his horse as the bullets whistled harmlessly over him. A ball aimed at the picket buried itself in the servants' room window, scattering splin- ters over the inmates, and with unearthly yells they rushed into the house. We locked the doors and seated ourselves on the veranda to watch the course of events. The first Yankee that came past spoke civ- IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 13 illy and passed on. The next arrival was General Howard with his staff and escort. He came into the veranda with several of his men, sat down, drew out a map and proceeded to ask me many questions, all of which were of course answered evasively. He was anx- ious to know how many Confederates had passed. At length he said, "Did you say the whole of Johnston's Army passed on this road yesterday.?" *'I did not say so," was my reply. *'Ah, no," he continued, "it was the corps to which your father belongs." Receiving no response he continued : "To what corps did you say your father belonged .''" "I did not say he belonged to any corps," I answered. *'If he is in the army he must belong to some corps," he replied impatiently. "It would seem probable," was my answer. He was very much annoyed. He sprang from his chair and, with flushed face, ex- claimed: "Madam, when you meet a gentle- man, treat him as such!" We looked silently at each other and quietly left the veranda. 14 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. CHAPTER II. THERE was such a continual knocking at the door that my mother said some one must remain downstairs, so Janet went to the dining-room and I to the parlor. This room had two large glass doors opposite each other and opening on the two verandas. The heavy winter curtains still overhung them, and I dropped them so as to conceal myself from the many soldiers who filled the piazzas. Picking up a book, I sat for a few moments trying to fix my mind on the words before me. Some disturbance attracted the atten- tion of the men and they left the house, and in the silence that followed I read under- standingly. The only light in the room came through one pane of glass which I had left bare, but suddenly this was darkened, and, glancing at the window, I saw a hideous, grin- ning face flattened against the pane. As I looked the creature nodded and opened its disgusting mouth. I threw down my book and fled from the room. My sisters were with my mother in her bed- room, where I joined them, and was telling of my late adventure when we were startled by the crash of a falling door. *'They are in the kitchen," said my mother. We heard the tramp of many feet running IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 15 across the laundry floor and the next moment the pantry door went down, and they were hammering at my mother's dressing-room. We fled into the dining-room, locking the door behind us. Door after door came rattling down, while we stood with white faces silently looking at one another. Finally some one said : "Let us go upstairs." Hardly had we reached the hall when the mob entered the dining-room, and we raced upstairs and locked ourselves in one of the bedrooms. There was an awful sound below : not a word uttered, only the tramp of heavy feet and a hoarse, indistinct, growling murmur. I put my fingers on my pulse and found it was beating steadily. I remember I thought I was quite calm. My sisters were deadly pale, though perfectly composed, but my mother cried bitterly. No one spoke. Each was nerving herself for the coming storm. The Yankees thundered up the stairs. Our door was locked, but the others were open, and we heard them throwing down heavy articles of furniture. At last there came a pause, followed by a tremendous blow upon our door, which instantly flew open. The entry and rooms beyond were full of Yankees, many of them half nude. They looked silently at us for a few moments, then a sergeant, followed by a private, motioned back the others and entered the room. He walked to 1 6 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. the bureau, leaned upon it with both elbows, looked at himself in the glass, and began to caress his moustache. Smihng complacently at his reflected image, he turned to us. "Ladies," he said, "these fellows are annoy- ing you, are they not } " No one replied to the question. "What are you doing here, sir ? Report instantly to your command ! " said a voice at the door. To our great delight we saw a lieutenant walk in, and it was he who had spoken. " Did you hear, sir .? " said the officer, sternly. "I am aware that I have to report to my command," replied the man sullenly, but still motionless. Without another word the officer, a power- fully built young man, advanced, and seizing him by the collar dragged him to the head of the stairs, then, with a well applied kick from a foot encased in a heavy cavalry boot, sent him flying in the attitude of a diver down- stairs. While the Keutenant was still at the head of the stairs, no doubt admiring his recent good deed, several of the men slipped behind him into our room. Janet was the envied possessor of a seven-shooter which she carried hidden in her dress, and for the last quarter of an hour had kept her hand upon it. Sophy IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 17 being of a very excitable nature could not quietly endure the way our wardrobes and bureaus were being opened and the contents pitched about, so she caught Janet by the hand, exclaiming : "Give me the pistol, Janet I Give me the pistol 1 I'll shoot some of these wretches I " *'Sit down and behave yourself," said Janet. **I won't. Give me the pistol 1 " insisted Sophy. Janet pulled her down on the lounge and said soothingly : **Don't you know that you are making matters worse ? " "I don't care ! I want to kill them ! They ought to be killed ! " she went on. "That's true enough," said Janet, "but you can't do it." Just then the officer returned and the men ran out of the room. After expressing his regret that we had been so roughly treated, the lieutenant said he had thought the house unoccupied, but as he was passing one of his men told him there were ladies in it, and he had come to investi- gate. We begged to be put through the lines at once, but he informed us it was almost impos- sible, as the Rebels were steadily retreating and the Federals as steadily advancing, so that there were no lines. Then we requested that he obtain a guard for us. "I will do that with pleasure," said he, and 1 8 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. began to descend. We cried out to him not to leave us without some protection. The poor man looked quite bewildered, not know- ing what to do. We wanted him to get us a guard, and yet we were afraid to be left. It is no wonder we were still afraid, for, although our room had been cleared, the stairs and hall below were full of these horrible looking men, scowling and doggedly refusing to obey their officer's repeated order to leave the house. Those below swung themselves up and hung on to the banisters. In vain did he order them to go, — they pressed up the stairs. **Men," he said, *'what do you want ? You are behaving more like fiends than men 1 " At this moment there was a movement in the hall below. An officer was forcing his way through the crowd. "Randolph," called the lieutenant, "I am glad you have come ! I left my arms at the tent, or I would have shot some of these scoundrels. Help me to clear the house." The two young officers proceeded to "clear the house" most energetically. The hall and lower stairs were soon empty, but the landing and stairs above were still full. On the landing was a man in a tightly buttoned frock coat, and being short was hidden by the taller men in front. Lieutenant Randolph soon discov- ered him. IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 19 "Major," he said, "is it possible that you have witnessed this shameful scene without attempting to stop it ? " "I — I — I didn't think the men were doing any harm," answered the man addressed. "Doing any harm ! " indignantly exclaimed the lieutenant. *'Don't you know that an order was read to every company before we left Dalton that 'no occupied house was to be entered .? ' " The major muttered something indistinctly and sneaked off, followed by angry looks from the two subalterans. The wildest uproar was going on in the parlor. The poor piano was being hammered as if it were an anvil, and my mother again asked for a guard. The officer who had first come to our assistance, said : "I will go at once to see about it. You will not be afraid to remain with my friend, Lieutenant Randolph, will you } My name is Morrison; I am on General Sweeny's staff, and as he condemns any occurrence Uke that which has just taken place, I have no doubt I can send you protection immediately." He bowed and withdrew. Lieutenant Ran- dolph spoke very kindly and said that we had nothing more to fear, as he was sure the guard would arrive in a few moments and he would himself endeavor to have returned to us all that had been taken. 20 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. The guard soon came, and the men were stationed in the front and rear of the house. The two officers left and we descended to see what damage had been done. Every door was open. Many of the lighter articles of furniture were gone : books, music and various ornaments had disappeared. The floor was covered with valuable old books in all stages of mutilation. Janet's beautiful set of Schiller — twelve volumes — gone, and she made bitter lamentation over the loss. The mob could not have been more than fifteen minutes in the house, yet in that short space of time they had contrived to make it a disgusting sight to behold. Upon the pantry they had exerted the full strength of their genius. An old press, filled with odds and ends, — among other things, six old-timed bonnets and a calash that had belonged to my grandmother, — stood in this room. In another press was a quantity of lard, eight or ten gallons, and a large package of lampblack, and after carefully mixing the two, they smeared it over doors, walls and windows, and poured it over the floor. The six old bonnets and the calash we found in the lard can, well saturated with grease, and black with the mixture. Hearing a scuffle in the next room, we went to see what was the matter. There we saw a man with a turkey under his arm ajid IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 21 he halfway out of the window, with the window down on him. He kicked and plunged at a great rate ; the turkey got away, and the man pitched headforemost out just as an officer came in. A pair of heavy old-fashioned brass andirons stood in the fireplace, and Maria, usually the gentlest of the gentle, eyed them thought- fully. "Mother," she said, "look at the andi- rons. We might have broken his back with them. What a pity we did not think of it ! " Years ago my father had brought with him from Paris a beaver hat in a box of exactly the same shape, only, of course, an inch or two more in diameter. The hat and the box had quietly reposed for many a day in the lumber- room, but now an enterprising investigator ferreted them out. He walked complacently along, the beaver under his arm and the box held over his head. Catching sight of the officer he started to run, when the box slipped over his face and rested on his shoulders. The officer dashed after him, and, in his fright, the man forgot the stone terrace which was five feet high. Over he went backwards. He scrambled to his feet, frantically trying to pull off the box, but in vain, and the next minute he was over the second terrace. His companions came to his assistance, and vigorously jerking the box upward got it off. The last I saw of him he 22 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. was holding his profusely bleeding nose and making replies more emphatic than polite to the jeers of his comrades. We nailed up the doors and windows, and remained undisturbed till ten o'clock that night, when Lieutenant Randolph came to say that he had an order — which he showed us — to make a list of the stolen articles. He would not have troubled us, he said, to make the hst that night, but he had seen a lamp burning and supposed that we were awake. He suggested that we should go with him to each room, as we would be more apt to remember what was missing if we saw the vacant places. When the list was com- pleted he promised Janet she should have her Schiller in the morning, and departed. I passed a wretched night, dreaming con- tinually that I heard repeated the horrible sights and sounds of the morning. The ser- vants brought us breakfast, and were exces- sively indignant with the Yankees, who had torn up all their finery, and insulted them by saying it **was too good for niggers." They knew it was our clothing that we had given them to hide. Later in the morning our poor, old, asth- matic nurse came into the room crying. She was given a seat and a glass of water, — all that we had. She always had a cup of coffee sent her before she got up, and the loss of IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 23 this stimulant, together with the exertion of climbing the stairs, had put her in a pitiful condition. She sat there gasping and wheez- ing for some time. When she was a little more composed I asked her what the matter was. **0h, I dunno, honey ! " she said. "I dunno whedder I'm live or dead." "Have the Yankees troubled you as well as the other servants ?'' I asked. **Dey've took ebry ting I had. Dey trowed 'way all my rags what Miss Maria give me to sell to de paper man, and tek de bag dey was in, an' kill Jack (her pet pig), an' tote him off in it. Miss Sophy, dey done pick de white sir-chicken clean fum de house to de spring !" *'Did they take anything from your house.?'* Sophy asked. "Dey tak ebry ting: I ain't got a bolster, nor a piller, nor a sheet, nor a coverlid, nor nothin' ! Even to my poor little pullet what I raise for a pet, dey tek dat too. I say to de man : *For Gord sake leab me my poor chicken ! ' He grin at me, an' he say : * Uncle Sam gie you plenty chicken by and by,' an' wring the poor little fowl neck." "Why, we thought the Yankees loved you, and would rather give you things than take away the little that you had," I remarked. She slowly shook her head. "Honey," 24 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. she said, "I neber knowed a Yankee dat wasn't as mean as dirt. Dey skin a flea for his hide an' taller. Ebry body say de Yankees goin* to free us. Like a fool I belieb 'em, an' now dis what dey do. I might a-knowed it. What kin you spec fum a hog but a grunt." She was known to have quite a quantity of silver dollars and small change. I was always a great pet of hers, and had once been allowed to see a part of this treasure, which she kept concealed even from her husband. So I said : "Did they find your money.-*" She was sitting quietly crying, with her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands, but at the mention of her money she straightened up, and her dim eyes flashed as she cried : "I hope de Lord will curse 'em foreber! I wish dey was all in torment now. I know dey gwine ter go dar. I want 'em dar now. I like to see 'em burn!" "Then they found your money, did they.?" "Dey got it, ebry bit ! I dunno how much dere was. I kep' it fust in a pocket an' it got to be too much, so I made a orsom brigs bag an' put it in dat. It was a bundle big as my head wid my hankercher on, an' it was so heavy I couldn't tie it to my waist under my frock. At fust I tort I'd put it in de ashes an' den I tink no, some of 'em might make a fire an' melt it all up. So den I took a cheer IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. 25 an' sot in de doo'. I put de bag 'tween my knees an' pull my apun down over it. I put my pipe in my mout' an' mek bleebe nod, an' fust ting I know one Yankee juck up my apun ad' snatch de bag out ov my lap, upset me an' de cheer, an' gone!" *♦ What a shame ! What did you do then .? " mother asked. "Oh, I git up an' cry an' cry, an' I wish I was dead. Dreckly one nasty little freckle face one come an' juck my head hankercher off my head an' he say: *01e 'ooman, I'm a perspirin', so I'll tek dis.' Dat mek me so mad dat I try to grab it 'way fum him. Den he tell me ef I don't mine my eye he gwine run he doughnut tru me." We tried to comfort her by telling her that as long as we had food she should share it. The servants had each received a month's provisions, but all had been taken from them, and this poor old creature had not tasted food since the previous morning. She was faint from hunger, so we shared our biscuits with her, and, comforted not a little, she hobbled downstairs. 26 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. CHAPTER III. OUR friend, Mr. Burton, had a housekeeper by the name of Biddy Flanagin. Shortly after our nurse had left we were surprised by a visit from Biddy, which was indeed a sur- prise, for Mr. Burton lived four miles from us, and the road was full of the enemy. * ' cried Dick, giving it a kick and thereby driv- ing the loose pegs into his toes, which caused him to howl and drop the reins. The wheel was in pieces, so a rail was fastened in its place, consequently home was not reached until after dark. *One day Maria and I drove to our own home to see our old nurse, for she had been allowed to remain although we had been sent away. In walking over a loose stone Maria slipped and fell, spraining her ankle so badly that it was hard work to get her into the buggy. She suffered intense pain, and for some weeks could not walk. One day as she was hopping through the scullery, Dicky Crofts, a half-witted fellow, who sometimes worked for Mr. Burton, stopped her. He always spoke rapidly, but this time it seemed to me he spoke like a flash of lightning — without pause or stop. Raising his two long, skinny, brown hands, and bending towards her, he said : "*Miss Maria, ef you don't take some sas- safrax tea an' 'nint your ankle with hit, you'll 114 IN AND OUT OF THE LINES. do jist like a gal what I knowed, which dumb a fence an' fell over hit an' sprained her laig; an' some tole her to do one thing an' some tole her to do 'nodder, and I tole her to use sassafrax tea, and she wouldn't an' she turned punkin color an' mortified, den died in the rackinest mis'ry.' But Maria's ankle got well after a while. "Yankee Jennie, as we called the horse we bought with the harness, had become so tender-footed that it was absolutely necessary to have her shod. The blacksmith was an old man who lived ten miles away, but we determined, in spite of the distance, to take her to him. The guard, Vivian, insisted on going with us, probably suspecting that we were going to see Confederates, though he pretended he thought we ought not to ride so far alone. We told him he was neither wanted nor needed, but he would go, so we rode on our way quite oblivious of his pres- ence. When we had gone half way the woods became very thick, making it a wild bit of country. The guard turned pale and, looking nervously around, said he found