nkees had stripped
the country of everything, and left them neither horses, mules, nor
anything to eat. Through the intervention of his wife, however, Glazier
finally obtained some bread and sweet potatoes; and, delivering a
lecture to him upon the gross ingratitude of treating in such a
niggardly manner a soldier who had left a home of opulence and comfort,
to battle for _his_ rights and liberties, with much more of a similar
audacious character, he left the house.

Time, however, was too precious to be wasted, and, at the conclusion of
the meal, they hurriedly resumed their march.

A solitary planter passed them, returning their carefully-worded
salutation, and, evidently mistaking them for Confederates, volunteered
the information that "our cavalry"--meaning Wheeler's, had passed that
point last Tuesday. He was barely out of view, when they overtook a
couple of negroes going to their work; and of them Glazier inquired the
distance to the nearest plantation, receiving for answer, "Jess a mile,
massa." "Are there any white folks there?" asked our hero. "Narry one,
massa," was the reply; adding, "Dat ar planter is what dey call a
Beeswaxer"--meaning a Bushwacker, "and Massa Sherman took dem all orf."
Not wishing to commit themselves by imprudently revealing their true
character, Glazier asked them indifferently, if they had seen any of
Wheeler's cavalry lately. To which one of them responded, "Dar's right
smart of dem down at Mars' Brown's, free mile from de swamp, and dey's
hazin' de country all 'round."

This intelligence was not encouraging, but our friends thought it the
wiser course to proceed at once to the plantation the negro had
described. They soon reached the place, and, finding that the dwelling
of the owner was closed, they, without delay, advanced to the nearest of
the smaller tenements, such as were usually occupied by slaves.

Glazier did not pause to knock at the door, but boldly raised the latch
and entered. He expected to see the usual negro auntie with her brood of
pickaninnies, or to meet the friendly glance of one of the males, and
therefore walked in very confidently, and with a pleasant smile. This,
however, soon changed to a look of amazement, when he found himself face
to face with a Confederate officer in full uniform. Quick as lightning,
our hero determined upon his course.

"Ah, sir!" he exclaimed, with all the coolness he could assume, "I
perceive we are in the same service. I can only