a of protecting their own borders, why
should not all? This was well-understood, and hence resisted
resolutely and successfully. At a later day, and as if in pursuance
of a general plan, the Arkansas troops did go home; and thus they
avoided a mutiny, which, had it been fully developed, would have
involved at least 10,000 men. So rigid is the surveillance of the
press, that no publication, so far as I know, was ever made of this
affair, which threatened the disintegration of the whole Rebel army.

To return, we made some thirty miles, and ascending the Cumberland
range in the evening, we again sought rest among the rocks. This we
judged safest, since we knew not who might have seen us during the
day, of an inquiring state of mind, as to our purpose and
destination.

On the morning of June 4th, by a _detour_ to conceal the course from
which we came, and a journey of a dozen of miles, we reached the
home of my wounded friend. I shall not attempt to describe his
tearful, joyful meeting with his mother and three sisters, and the
pride of the good old father as he folded his soldier-boy to his
heart. My own emotions fully occupied me while their greetings
lasted. I thought of my own fond mother, who had not heard from me
for more than a year, and was perhaps then mourning me as dead,
perchance had gone herself to the tomb in grief for the loss of her
first-born son; of my reverend father, whose wise counsel I had
often needed and longed for; of my sweet sisters and little brother,
who every day wondered if their big brother still lived and would
ever come home.

After a kindly greeting to the stranger who had brought home their
wounded son, for they never suspected either that he had deserted or
that I was escaping to the hated Yankees, they introduced me to all
the comforts of their pleasant dwelling; and for the first time for
many months I began to feel somewhat secure. Yet they were all
Secessionists, and talked constantly of the success of the cause,
and I must, of necessity, conceal my views and plans.

The day after our arrival, the wounded soldier took to his bed and
never rose again. The hardships he had endured in the journey home,
acting upon a system enfeebled by his wound, terminated in
inflammation of the lungs, which within a week ended his life. I
watched by his bed, nursed him carefully, and told him what little I
knew of the better world, trying to recall all the sweet words of
comfort I had heard pio