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[369] artillery, they could hardly be reduced. The superiority of the stockades built by the Union troops, over those built by the Confederates on the same line of road, was striking. The Union troops bestowed an immense amount of labor on theirs, making them of square timber, massive, and enduring, and perfect in every particular, while those put up by the Confederates were feeble and ridiculous imitations, showing not one-tenth of the labor and skill that the Federals bestowed upon theirs. These little stockades were, to my mind, significant illustrations of the characteristics of the two armies. What the Northern troops built was of an enduring and substantial character, and constructed with the highest skill, while Southern works of the same character were loosely thrown together, with little skill and less labor, negroes usually being put to such service. In the construction of hospitals and warehouses the same difference was noticeable. Confederate buildings, no matter for what purpose to be employed, were slovenly built, showing little skill and great economy of labor, and little display of the “knack” of making them convenient. The public works of the Confederates were about as short-lived as the Confederacy itself.

War horrors predominated in our neighborhood; but the humorous side was not altogether lacking. A brigade, one day, camped around the premises of a neighbor of ours. He was sitting on the fence (for the purpose, as he said, of saving one rail at least), contemplating the destruction going on all around. One soldier was killing a calf, another was after the pigs, another was milking the cows, hundreds were burning rails, others were taking off the well bucket and rope, some were digging for “hidden treasures,” and, altogether, the scene was rather lively. Our neighbor looked for some time, saying nothing, doubtless from inability to do the subject justice, when he broke out: “Gentlemen, if I live through this war, I shall never fear hell!” When Bragg retreated from Tullahoma, a large part of his army passed through our neighborhood. The soldiers were much discouraged. Within a few months, they had retreated all the way from before Nashville — about one hundred and thirty miles-and, in all that time, they declared they had not been whipped. “It's bad enough to run when we are whipped,” said one of the soldiers; “d-n this way of beating the Yankees and then running away from them!” I asked one of the officers, an acquaintance, to what point they were retreating. “To Cuba,” he replied, sharply, “if old Bragg can get a bridge built across from Florida!” On the same retreat, a couple of soldiers stopped at a house near us,

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