noon on the second day the regiment made a temporary halt for some
purpose, and we were sitting, or lying down, along the road side. There
was a bunch of our cavalry on their horses, in column off the road a
short distance, also at a halt, and I saw one of them munching a
hardtack. I slipped out of ranks and approached the fellow, and when
close to him said, "Partner, won't you give me a hardtack?" He looked
at me a second or two without saying anything, and I was fearful that
my appeal was going to be denied. But the look of ravenous hunger in my
eyes probably gained the case, for at last he reached his hand into his
haversack and handed me a tack, one of the big kind about four or five
inches square. I was barely in time, for right then the cavalry moved
on. I thrust the tack into my shirt bosom, gave a quick, furtive glance
towards the company to see if anyone had observed me, and then started
to get behind a big tree, where the precious morsel could be devoured
without risk of detection. But John Barton had been watching, and was
upon me before I could hide. "Hold on, Stillwell," said he, "that don't
go! I divided with you as long as I had a crumb!" "That's so, John," I
replied, heaving a mournful sigh, "here;" and breaking the hardtack in
two, I gave him a fair half, and standing behind the tree we promptly
gobbled down our respective portions.

We arrived at Clarendon on the evening of the 29th--having marched, in
going and returning, about seventy miles. Here everybody got a square
meal, which was heartily appreciated. As bearing on the above mentioned
incident about the hardtack, it will be said here, basing my remarks on
my experience in the army, and elsewhere, that I think there is nothing
that will reduce human beings so much to the level of the brute
creation as intense, gnawing hunger. All the selfishness there is in a
man will then come to the surface, and to satisfy the well-nigh
intolerable craving for something to eat, he will "go back" on his best
friend. I could cite several instances in support of this statement
that have come under my observation, but it is unnecessary.

Soon after reaching Clarendon, as above stated, fires burst forth,
apparently simultaneously, all over the town, and soon every building
was in ashes. It was a small place, and its population at the beginning
of the war probably did not exceed three hundred. At this time the town
had been abandoned by the residents, and so far as I