n described. These
gentlemen's faces, to me, who incline to an intelligent expression on
the human index, look like tallow-vats or nursery-suet, pliable and
swill-fed; and their mien and carriage have never impressed me
favorably. I had seen them rush with a wild yell, an army like the Paris
mob of intoxicated rags, upon our Gibraltar at Gettysburg; and had
myself charged upon their Attila-works (behind which they had their
household gods piled up and ready for burning) at Fredericksburg. I had
even taken a ball from one of them in the shoulder, whilst skirmishing,
in the shiftings of my experience; and they had before had the honor of
my capture, in sunny, grape-growing Maryland. Perhaps all these scenes
passed in panorama before my mind's eye, as I rose to my captor and eyed
his dirty linen. Here was an indignity, indeed. My soul revolted at the
thought of a journey southward, and all my instincts warned me against
so dire an undertaking. I stood before the Rebel with my determination
in my eye.

"A couple of Yanks, lolling under a tree," he screamed to his
companions, pointing the finger, and garnishing his speech, in Rebel
manner, with an oath.

"P'rhaps you thought you were off," he chuckled.

He was "goin'" to take us to the "Gen'ral." He muttered more oaths with
his orders, and directed us to be "right smart," and to "git."

I glanced at my orderly, who was inaugurating an onset upon the weaker
side of this mean battery, or ditch-work,--and who evidently counted
upon effecting a breach by rapid, electric charges,--by handing over his
pistol. It was freely offered, before demanded, and the recipient took
it in silence. He then drew out his tobacco, a treasure with which, I
well knew, he would not willingly part, and which was the little
ewe-lamb of his unjewelled life,--which, also, was taken quickly, but
under a nod of acknowledgments from the Rebel. The battery was shaken,
but, in truth, continued to draw fire. "Give me your boots," said the
critical captor, and the orderly knocked off his leathers in the best
good-humor in the world. When we had walked a little farther, the
orderly, now marching as the Moslems do on holy ground, asked our guide
if he had any grub about him; and accepted a piece of pork. There was a
variety of viands in the haversack from which this fragment came,--both
pork and bacon,--but the fire-eaters, I have noticed, always prefer the
latter meat. I divined at once that my orderly was