nest Federal soldier I should have minded it less, but for this camp-follower to hug me was all I could bear.
The next day, when nearing home, I saw a plow stopped in the midst of a furrow and a negro plowman lying behind the plow asleep, with his face upturned to the broiling sun. Here was a picture of freedom to the negro.
Reaching home in a few days, we thought best to go to Burkeville and get our paroles.
On the way there I passed a good old man whom I had known from my boyhood, Mr. Stephen Harper, going to the same place, with a bag in his hand to get rations.
He had been a wealthy man, but the enemy had destroyed and stolen all he had, leaving him without food.
Here was a picture of the desolation of old Virginia.
As we passed through the railroad cut, near Burkeville, the Yankees lined the track on either side, and one fellow told us we were d——d stragglers.
I told him if I had had the pleasure of his acquaintance a few days before I should have been happy to argue the