Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 34.
Reverend J. William Jones, Ed.

[123] their homes and await the turn of events, saying at the same time that no Confederate government existed now east of the Mississippi River; and if it were not for the position he occupied as ‘Secretary of War,’ he should not think of going to the Trans-Mississippi Department. He, however, would advise us, to go on to Charlotte and endeavor to hear something definite there, and if we could not do so, then to carry out our intention of reporting to General Johnston at Greensboro. Upon further consultation, we determined to adopt this course. We appear to have created quite a sensation here. We are the only Virginians that have been here, and as we have marched on foot so far (455 miles) and still continue to express the determination to join some army that may be fighting for Southern Independence, we have become heroes in the eyes of the people of Lincolnton. Young and old of both sexes seem to look upon us as men ‘of more than mortal mould,’ and to vie with one another in doing us honor. Colonel Lane has talked so extravagantly about us to the people of our patriotic spirit, that he has caused quite a sensation in the little town in regard to us.

30th, Sunday. We expected to go to Charlotte this morning by means of a hand-car, but when we went down to the railroad to make our arrangements we found that none were there, and we could not leave until about 2 P. M., at which time a hand-car was expected down the road. Upon learning this we concluded to make ourselves as easy as possible until then; we made ourselves as respectable looking as we could and went to church, some attending the Methodist others the Episcopal. At the latter we heard the Rev. Mr. Wetmore deliver a passable sermon. After dinner we made ourselves ready for a speedy departure from the town. Two, three, four, five o'clock came, still no car. At 5:30 o'clock our patience was rewarded by the sight of it and we immediately embarked, bidding adieu to Lincolnton and its pretty girls (of which it possessed not a few) and started for the Catawba Railroad Bridge twenty miles distant. At first we found some difficulty in steering our machine, but soon learned the ‘modus operandi’ and got along very handily; we arrived at the bridge without accident at 11 o'clock and slept for the night in an old shed upon the banks of the river.

May 1st. Awaking early this morning we crossed the river in an old fashioned batteaux, which made the experiment of crossing a very doubtful one. However we succeeded in getting across in