sville 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.

Some time during the night the travelers reached the ferry at
Cartersville. Darkness and silence prevailed there. Loud and continued
shouts brought no ferryman, and eager searchings revealed no boat. The
depth of the water being a thing unknown and not easily found out, it
was obviously prudent to camp for the night.

On the river's edge there was an old building which seemed a brick one;
one wall near the water's edge. A flight of steep, rough steps led to an
open door on the second floor. Up these steps climbed the weary men.
Inside there was absolute darkness, but there was shelter from the wind.
Feeling about on the floor they satisfied themselves of its cleanliness
and dryness. The faithful old blankets were once more spread, their
owners laid down and at once fell into a deep sleep which was not broken
till morning. The room was surprisingly small. When the soldiers
entered they had no idea of the size of it, and went to sleep with the
impression that it was very large. The morning revealed its
dimensions--about ten by twelve feet. The ferryman was early at his
post, and put the travelers across cheerfully without charge.

[Illustration: ANY BUTTERMILK AUNTY]

Soon after crossing, a good silver-plated table-spoon, bearing the
monogram of one of the travelers, purchased from an aged colored woman a
large chunk of ash-cake and about half a gallon of buttermilk. This old
darkey had lived in Richmond in her younger days. She spoke of grown men
and women there as "children whar I raised." "Lord! boss, does you know
Miss Sadie? Well, I nussed her and I nussed all uv them chillun; that I
did, sah! Yawl chillun does look hawngry, that you does. Well, you's
welcome to them vittles, and I'm powful glad to git d