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 they offered the new comers some of their bread. Being hungry, they accepted and eat their first meal that day. Here seemed a good place to spend the night, but the party in possession were so noisy and finally so quarrelsome and disagreeable generally, that the “survivors,” after a short rest, pushed on in the darkness, determined, if possible, to find some shelter more quiet. The result was a night march, which was continued till the morning dawned. Thursday morning they entered the village of Buckingham Courthouse, and traded a small pocket-mirror for a substantial breakfast. There was quite a crowd of soldiers gathered around a cellar door, trying to persuade an ex-Confederate A. A. A. Commissary of Subsistence that he might as well, in view of the fact that the army had surrendered, let them have some of his stores; and after considerable persuasion, and some threats, he forego the hope of keeping them for himself and told the men to help themselves. They-did so. The people of the village did not exactly doubt the fact of the surrender, but evidently thought matters had been somewhat exaggerated, facts suppressed and everything allowed to fall into a very doubtful condition. Confederate money would not pass, however; that was settled beyond doubt. As the two tramps were about to leave the village and were hurrying along the high road which led through it, they saw a solitary horseman approaching from their rear. It was easy to recognize at once General Lee. He rode slowly, calmly along. As he passed an old tavern on the roadside some ladies and children waved their handkerchiefs, smiled and wept. The General raised his eyes to the porch on which they stood, and slowly raising his hand to his hat, raised it slightly and as slowly again dropped his hand to his side. The “survivors” did not weep, but they had strange sensations. They passed on, steering, so to speak, for Cartersville and the ferry. Before leaving the village it was the sad duty of the survivors to stop at the humble abode of Mrs. P., and tell her of the death of her husband, who fell mortally wounded, pierced by a musket ball near Sailor's creek. She was also told that a comrade who was by his side when he fell, but who was not able to stay with him, would come along soon and give her the particulars. That comrade came and repeated the story. In a few days the dead man reached home alive and scarcely hurt. He was originally an infantryman, recently transferred to artillery, and therefore wore a small knapsack as infantrymen did. The ball struck the knapsack with a “whack!” and knocked the man down. That was all.
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