tion. We passed a small
house, in front of which a fat little negro-girl was drawing a bucket of
water from the well, the girl puffing and the windlass creaking.

"Will Massa have a drink of water?"

It was the first token of hospitality since Hermann. We stopped and drank
from the bucket, but had not been there a minute before the mistress ran
out, with suspicion in her face, to protect her property. A single
question sufficed to show the politics of that house.

"Where is your husband?"

"He went off a little while ago."

This was the Missouri way of informing us that he was in the Rebel army.

A little farther on we came to what was evidently the chief house of the
place. A bevy of maidens stood at the gate, supported by a pleasant
matron, fair and fat.

"Can you sell us some bread?" was our rather practical inquiry.

"We have none baked, but will bake you some by sundown," was the answer,
given in a hearty, generous voice.

The bargain was soon made. Our portly dame proved to be a Virginian, who
still cherished a true Virginian love for the Union.

_Tipton, October 9th._ The General was in the saddle very early, and left
camp before the staff was ready. I was fortunate enough to be on hand, and
indulged in some excusable banter when the tardy members of our company
rode up after we were a mile or two on the way. We have marched twelve
miles to-day through a lovely country. We have left the hills and stony
roads behind us, and now we pass over beautiful little prairies, bordered
by forests blazing with the crimson and gold of autumn. The day's ride has
been delightful, the atmosphere soft and warm, the sky cloudless, and the
prairie firm and hard under our horses' feet. We passed several regiments
on the road, who received the General with unbounded enthusiasm; and when
we entered Tipton, we found the country covered with tents, and alive with
men and horses. Amidst the cheers of the troops, we passed through the
camps, and settled down upon a fine prairie-farm a mile to the southwest
of Tipton. The divisions of Asboth and Hunter are here, not less than
twelve thousand men, and from this point our course is to be southward.

_Camp Asboth, near Tipton, October 11th._ For the last twenty-four hours
it has rained violently, and the prairie upon which we are encamped is a
sea of black mud. But the tents are tight, and inside we contrive to keep
comparatively warm.

The camp is filled with speculations as to