ire at once. I had read in books at home
that the skin of an alligator was so hard and tough that it was
impervious to an ordinary rifle bullet. That may have been true as
regards the round balls of the old small-bore rifle, but it was not the
case with the conical bullets of our hard-hitting muskets. The boys
would aim at a point just behind the fore-shoulder, the ball would
strike the mark with a loud "whack," a jet of blood would spurt high in
the air, the alligator would give a convulsive flounce,--and disappear.
It had doubtless got its medicine. But this "alligator practice" didn't
last long. Gen. Kimball, on learning the cause, sent word mighty quick
from the headquarters boat to "Stop that firing!"--and we stopped.

About noon on the 4th we arrived at the little town of Satartia on the
left bank of the Yazoo, and about 40 miles above its mouth; there the
fleet halted, tied up, and the troops debarked, and marched out to the
highlands back of the town. We were now in a region that was new to us,
and we soon saw several novel and strange things. There was a
remarkable natural growth, called "Spanish moss," that was very
plentiful, and a most fantastic looking thing. It grew on nearly all
the trees, was of a grayish-white color, with long, pendulous stems.
The lightest puff of air would set it in motion, and on a starlight
night, or when the moon was on the wane and there was a slight breeze,
it presented a most ghostly and uncanny appearance. And the woods were
full of an unusual sort of squirrels, being just as black as crows.
They were in size, as I now remember, of a grade intermediate the fox-and
gray-squirrels we had at home. But all their actions and habits
appeared to be just the same as those of their northern cousins. And
there was a most singular bird of the night that was quite numerous
here, called the "chuck-will's widow," on account of the resemblance
its note bore to those words. It belonged to the whippoorwill family,
but was some larger. It would sound its monotonous call in the night
for hours at a stretch, and I think its mournful cry, heard when alone,
on picket at night out in dense, gloomy woods, is just the most
lonesome, depressing strain I ever heard.

On the afternoon of the 4th all our force advanced in the direction of
the little town of Mechanicsburg, which lay a few miles back of the
river. Those in the front encountered Confederate cavalry, and a lively
little skirmish ensued, in wh