amp for dinner. While in camp their
arms were removed, and 30,000 men drawn up: 15,000 on each side of
a hollow square, with a battery of ten field-pieces loaded with
grape, gunners at their post, occupying a third side, while the
fourth was open. Into this space the regiment was marched, without
arms, and requested, _all of them who were free to do so_, to take
the oath. After its administration to the regiment in a body, the
colonel said if there were any members who had not voluntarily
sworn, they could step out in front of the ranks. Six men advanced,
two of them brothers, and remonstrated that they had cheerfully
volunteered for one year, had served faithfully, and endured every
hardship without complaint and without furlough; had left their
families without means of support, who must now be suffering; that
if allowed to go home and rest and make some provision for wife and
children, they would then return. Colonel Hill, who was from the
neighborhood of these men, knew the truth and felt the force of
their arguments, and was trying by kindness to satisfy their minds,
when General Beauregard rode up and asked--

"Colonel Hill, do these men refuse to swear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Unless they comply, have them shot to-morrow morning at ten
o'clock," said the general, and rode away.

Before ten o'clock they had all taken the oath; but one of the two
brothers, in his rage, declared he would desert. For this he would
have been shot, had he not acknowledged himself wrong and professed
penitence, though his resolution remained unshaken.

Some days after, this brother was placed upon picket duty, and, as
the night came on, he attempted to pass out through the lines of
cavalry pickets, when he was shot in the side, but not dangerously
wounded as he then thought. He crawled back into his own line, and
then reported himself as shot by a Federal picket. He was taken to
camp, the ball extracted, and he sent to Atlanta, Georgia, to
hospital. From this place he escaped and reached Montgomery on his
way back to Warren county, Tennessee. His wound healed externally.

This was the deserting soldier I met on the cars as we left
Montgomery for Chattanooga. I put him in temporary possession of one
of my horses; we united our destinies, and prepared for the future
as well as we could.

We reached Chattanooga on June 1st, and I found it, to my chagrin, a
military camp, containing 7,500 cavalry, under strict military rule.
We were now i