remaining strength, I came up the fifth
time. As I did so, a strong young man, Sparks by name, a good swimmer,
caught me by the left arm near the shoulder. He told me to take hold of
him, but this I refused to do. I thought this might endanger him, and
that if I would be perfectly passive he could manage me with no danger
to himself. But when I would not take hold of him, he let me go and
swam off and left me. Another man was within ten feet at the time,
coming to his assistance. When I went down this time, I was satisfied
they were going to let me drown. I felt that I could not come to the
top again, and could not reach the bottom. I thought if I could reach
the bottom I could crawl out by springing to the top now and then for
breath. But I could not touch bottom. I then began to calculate the
chances of their getting my body out in time to resuscitate it. I knew
it would not take long to cut the dam and drain the pond; but, when I
reflected that they had not the presence of mind to do anything, I lost
all hope in that direction. I saw no chance for me, and regarded the
end as come. The reflection that I had obeyed the gospel was intensely
joyous. During the whole time I had not strangled, knowing that it
would be fatal. A young man named Gipson--Sam Gipson--one of the owners
of the mill, was some eighty yards away, filing the saw. When Sparks
swam away and left me, Gipson saw they were going to let me drown, and
ran to my assistance. He got on one of the large slabs, and came in to
where I had gone down. I was still making some commotion in the water,
and, guessing about where I was, he pushed a plank down that came just
under my left arm. I knew what it was, and pressed it to my side. He
then bore on the other end and brought me to the surface. He held on
thus till others came and helped me upon the slab. As soon as I got
breath a few times I appeared to be all right, and they thought I was
only playing a trick on them; but in a few moments I tumbled over,
became black in the face, and suffered intensely for several hours.

On one occasion during the war I went into Floydsburg, on the morning
after Christmas day. There was a little squad of Confederates there,
belonging to the command of Col. Jessee, of New Castle, Ky. One of them
was a boy, named Hall, who went from that neighborhood. The rest were
strangers. I was introduced to the lieutenant in command, and had some
talk with him. The main street of the town runs