Georgia, No, no; the exuberant spirits of the Southern
soldier were too great to allow him to hear yelling going on and not
yell himself. He yelled at everything he saw, from an ox-cart to
a pretty woman, a downfall of a luckless cavalryman to a charge in
battle.

The news of our coming had preceded us, and at every station and
road-crossing the people of the surrounding country, without regard
to sex or age, crowded to see us pass, and gave us their blessings and
God speed as we swept by with lightning speed. Our whole trip was one
grand ovation. Old men slapped their hands in praise, boys threw up
their hats in joy, while the ladies fanned the breeze with their flags
and handkerchiefs; yet many a mother dropped a silent tear or felt a
heart-ache as she saw her long absent soldier boy flying pass without
a word or a kiss.

At the towns which we were forced to stop for a short time great
tables were stretched, filled with the bounties of the land, while the
fairest and the best women on earth stood by and ministered to every
wish or want. Was there ever a purer devotion, a more passionate
patriotism, a more sincere loyalty, than that displayed by the women
of the South towards the soldier boys and the cause for which they
fought? Was there ever elsewhere on earth such women? Will there
ever again exist circumstances and conditions that will require such
heroism, fortitude, and suffering? Perhaps so, perhaps not.

In passing through Richmond we left behind us two very efficient
officers on a very pleasant mission, Dr. James Evans, Surgeon of the
Third, who was to be married to one of Virginia's fair daughters, and
Captain T.W. Gary, of same regiment, who was to act as best man. Dr.
Evans was a native South Carolinian and a brother of Brigadier
General N.G. Evans, of Manassas fame. While still a young man, he was
considered one of the finest surgeons and practitioners in the army.
He was kind and considerate to his patients, punctual and faithful in
his duties, and withal a dignified, refined gentleman. Such confidence
had the soldiers in his skill and competency, that none felt uneasy
when their lives or limbs, were left to his careful handling. Both
officers rejoined us in a few days.

We reached Ringold on the evening of the 19th of September, and
marched during the night in the direction of the day's battlefield.
About midnight we crossed over the sluggish stream of Chickamauga,
at Alexander's Bridge, and bivouac