val, he
invited General Hurlbut and me to dine with him. I accepted the
invitation and spent a very pleasant afternoon with my host, who was a
thorough Southern gentleman fully convinced of the justice of secession.
After dinner, seated in the capacious porch, he entertained me with a
recital of the services he was rendering the cause. He was too old to
be in the ranks himself--he must have been quite seventy then--but his
means enabled him to be useful in other ways. In ordinary times the
homestead where he was now living produced the bread and meat to supply
the slaves on his main plantation, in the low-lands of Mississippi. Now
he raised food and forage on both places, and thought he would have that
year a surplus sufficient to feed three hundred families of poor men who
had gone into the war and left their families dependent upon the
"patriotism" of those better off. The crops around me looked fine, and
I had at the moment an idea that about the time they were ready to be
gathered the "Yankee" troops would be in the neighborhood and harvest
them for the benefit of those engaged in the suppression of the
rebellion instead of its support. I felt, however, the greatest respect
for the candor of my host and for his zeal in a cause he thoroughly
believed in, though our views were as wide apart as it is possible to
conceive.

The 23d of June, 1862, on the road from La Grange to Memphis was very
warm, even for that latitude and season. With my staff and small escort
I started at an early hour, and before noon we arrived within twenty
miles of Memphis. At this point I saw a very comfortable-looking
white-haired gentleman seated at the front of his house, a little
distance from the road. I let my staff and escort ride ahead while I
halted and, for an excuse, asked for a glass of water. I was invited at
once to dismount and come in. I found my host very genial and
communicative, and staid longer than I had intended, until the lady of
the house announced dinner and asked me to join them. The host,
however, was not pressing, so that I declined the invitation and,
mounting my horse, rode on.

About a mile west from where I had been stopping a road comes up from
the southeast, joining that from La Grange to Memphis. A mile west of
this junction I found my staff and escort halted and enjoying the shade
of forest trees on the lawn of a house located several hundred feet back
from the road, their horses hitched to the