loved
him. He was no disciplinarian, but made his regiment what it was by his
own example. And every day on the march you would see some poor old
ragged rebel riding his fine gray mare, and he was walking.

CAPTAIN JOE P. LEE

The other person I wish to speak of is Captain Joe P. Lee. Captain Henry
J. Webster was our regular captain, but was captured while on furlough,
sent to a northern prison and died there, and Joe went up by promotion.
He was quite a young man, about twenty-one years old, but as brave as
any old Roman soldier that ever lived. Joe's face was ever wreathed in
smiles, and from the beginning to the end he was ever at the head of his
company. I do not think that any member of the company ever did call him
by his title. He was called simply "Joe Lee," or more frequently "Black
Perch." While on duty he was strict and firm, but off duty he was "one
of us boys." We all loved and respected him, but everybody knows Joe,
and further comment is unnecessary.

I merely mention these two persons because in this rapid sketch I may
have cause occasionally to mention them, and only wish to introduce them
to the reader, so he may understand more fully my ideas. But, reader,
please remember that I am not writing a history at all, and do not
propose in these memoirs to be anybody's biographer. I am only giving my
own impressions. If other persons think differently from me it is all
right, and I forgive them.

CORINTH FORSAKEN

One morning a detail was sent to burn up and destroy all the provisions
and army stores, and to blow up the arsenal. The town was in a blaze
of fire and the arsenal was roaring and popping and bellowing like
pandemonium turned loose as we marched through Corinth on the morning of
the evacuation. We bade farewell to Corinth. Its history was black and
dark and damning. No little speck of green oasis ever enlivened the dark
recesses of our memory while at this place. It's a desert that lives
only in bitter memories. It was but one vast graveyard that entombed
the life and spirit of once brave and chivalrous men. We left it to
the tender mercies of the Yankees without one tear of sorrow or regret,
and bade it farewell forever.

CHAPTER IV

TUPELO

We went into summer quarters at Tupelo. Our principal occupation at this
place was playing poker, chuck-a-luck and cracking graybacks (lice).
Every soldier had a brigade of lice on him, and I have seen fellows so
bus