day or two before. The recognition was mutual.

We had fallen into the hands of a scouting party of our own forces.
Each mistook the other for Rebels. The contemplated shooting was
indefinitely postponed. The lieutenant in command concluded to encamp
near us, and we passed the evening in becoming acquainted with each
other.

On the following day the scouting party returned to Natchez. With
my two companions I proceeded ten miles further up the river-bank,
calling, on the way, at several plantations. All the inhabitants
supposed we were Rebel officers, going to or from Kirby Smith's
department. At one house we found two old gentlemen indulging in a
game of chess. In response to a comment upon their mode of amusement,
one of them said:

"We play a very slow and cautious game, sir. Such a game as the
Confederacy ought to play at this time."

To this I assented.

"How did you cross the river, gentlemen?" was the first interrogatory.

"We crossed it at Natchez."

"At Natchez! We do not often see Confederates from Natchez. You must
have been very fortunate to get through."

Then we explained who and what we were. The explanation was followed
by a little period of silence on the part of our new acquaintances.
Very soon, however, the ice was broken, and our conversation became
free. We were assured that we might travel anywhere in that region
as officers of the Rebel army, without the slightest suspicion of our
real character. They treated us courteously, and prevailed upon us to
join them at dinner. Many apologies were given for the scantiness of
the repast. Corn-bread, bacon, and potatoes were the only articles
set before us. Our host said he was utterly unable to procure flour,
sugar, coffee, or any thing else not produced upon his plantation.
He thought the good times would return when the war ended, and was
particularly anxious for that moment to arrive. He pressed us to pass
the night at his house, but we were unable to do so. On the following
day we returned to Natchez.

Everywhere on the road from Vidalia to the farthest point of our
journey, we found the plantations running to waste. The negroes had
been sent to Texas or West Louisiana for safety, or were remaining
quietly in their quarters. Some had left their masters, and were
gone to the camps of the National army at Vicksburg and Natchez. The
planters had suspended work, partly because they deemed it useless
to do any thing in the prevailing uncertaint