emembering her kindness to me when I was
sick.

The ride to the plantation, after several weeks confinement, was better
than medicine, and I enjoyed every step my proud horse took. The animal
acted as though he had been told of my promotion, but it was plain to me
that he acted proud, because he had been resting during my sickness. It
was all I could do to keep Jim alongside of me. He would fall back every
little while and try to act like an orderly riding behind an officer.
I had to discipline him before he would come up alongside like a
"partner." I mention this Thanksgiving dinner in the army, in order to
bring in a little advice the rebel girl gave me, which I shall always
remember. We arrived at the old plantation house where the girl and her
mother and some servants were living, waiting for the war to close, so
the men folks could come back. The old lady welcomed us cordially, the
girl warmly and the servants effusively. The dinner was good, though
not elaborate, except the possum. That was elaborate, and next to gumbo
soup, the finest dish I ever tasted. After we had got seated at the
table, the old lady asked a blessing, and it was more like a prayer.
She asked for a blessing upon all of the men in both armies, and made us
feel as though there was no bitterness in her heart towards the enemies
of her people. During the dinner Jim told of my promotion, and the
circumstance was commented on by all, and after dinner the rebel angel
took me one side, and said she had got a few words of advice to give me.
She commenced by saying:

"Now that you are to be a commissioned officer, don't get the big head.
During this war, we have had soldiers near us all the time, and I have
seen some splendid soldiers spoiled by being commsssioned. Nine out
of ten men that have received commissions in this locality, have been
spoiled. I am a few years older than you, and have seen much of the
world. You are a kind hearted man, and desire to treat everybody well,
whether rich or poor, yankee or confederate. If you let this commission
spoil you, you are not worthy of it. You will naturally feel as though
you should associate with officers entirely, but you will find in them
no better companions than you have found in the private soldiers, and I
doubt if you will find as true friends. Do not, under any circumstances,
draw away from your old friends, and let a barrier raise up between you
and them. My observation teaches me that the only d