"Oh, nothing! as you're taking them d-d Yankees to justice," was the reply.

Though by no means complimentary, this expression took a heavy load off our minds, and we were comparatively light-hearted when we took our departure.

The sheriff resolved not to halt again until he reached a place where he was known, as he feared that otherwise we might be mobbed. By rapid driving he reached this point. Drawing up before the door of a tavern, we immediately dismounted, and were invited to enter by a house-servant, who led us to a small fire at which we might warm ourselves. As we sat there, a hard-looking female came in, and seeing my hand bound up, asked me what ailed it. I responded that I had caught cold in an old bruise which had assumed somewhat the character of a felon. She inquired if she could do anything for it. I thanked her, and told her that I had a poultice of sweet gum on it.

We were presently shown up to our chamber, and went to bed. My hand pained me so much, however, that I could not sleep; and getting up, I took a pan of water, and putting into it a lump of opium, which I obtained from my comrade, I laid my hand in it, and so passed the remainder of the night.

We resumed our journey at an early hour, and pressed forward in order to reach the railroad, which was not quite finished to Hockinsville. On the road we were compelled to stop at the house of a man named Phillips. He was very wealthy, owning over two hundred and seventy-five slaves, and a fine plantation. He was a bitter and unrelenting secessionist, and therefore the sheriff thought it best not to mention what or who we were. Our horses were put up, and we entered the dwelling. Phillips came in almost immediately after, and opened a conversation about the war. The sheriff inquired of him if he had any late papers.

"I don't take no papers !" he rejoined; "I can't read. But," added he, casting a glance at us, "there was some men hunting round here the other day for them Yankees that got away at Macon, and I only wish they'd catch the thieves, and shoot them!"

This was not pleasant to our ears, and the disagreeable sensation was considerably increased, as Phillips, nodding his head towards us, asked the sheriff his errand to Macon with us.

Our friend hesitated a moment to reply, but finally stated his mission. Phillips instantly flew into a rage, and commenced to swear and threaten dreadfully. The sheriff told him that

approaching train When it arrived,

I was a Virginian, and of like sentiments with himself, and so forth, but it did not effect much. Phillips spoke of the outrageous conduct of our men, and Butler's famous New Orleans Proclamation, and swore, with a horrid oath, that if he had his own way, he would shoot every Yankee that was caught. I rose, and walked outside, and was followed by Phillips, who seemed fearful of trusting me near the negroes who were hanging round the house, and in whose faces I could see an expression that showed they fully comprehended who we were. Presently the sound of the came gratefully to our ears. however, we learned that it would make a stop of an hour, as a number of conscripts were to be put aboard. Fearing to remain longer in Phillips's house, we adjourned into the neighboring pines to avoid the mob. One after another, several wagons, loaded with conscripts, drove up. These conscripts and their friends had, by some means or other, heard of our arrest, but did not know that we were the men. They spoke favorably of us, however, and were heartily endorsed by some old ladies who had come hither with their sons, and who were decidedly opposed to the conscription.

CHAPTER XIV.

On the Cars-An Old Acquaintance-His Reasons for being in the Army-Meeting the Slave we Chased-Rebel Account of our Pursuit-Interesting Advertisement-In Jail Again-Captain Clay Crawford-Prison Fare-Rebel Barbarities-Taking Comfort.

In due time we took our places on the train, and recommenced our journey. At the next stopping-place, a man in rebel uniform approached me, and said:

"I think I know you, sir."

I made no reply, supposing his object was merely to quarrel with me. He repeated his remark, and still I refused to notice him. The third time he spoke, he said:

"Your name is Rev. J. J. Geer, and you come from Cincinnati, Ohio. You used to preach there in the George street Methodist Protestant Church. I am who studied medicine with Dr. Newton of that city."

He extended his hand, and I instantly grasped it, and shook it heartily. I would state his his name; but, for the same reason that I suppress the sheriff's, I must also omit his. Stepping back to where he had set down a basket,

my old acquaintance brought me some biscuits and roast chicken. After this welcome gift had been properly attended to, the donor introduced me to his lady, who was a fine, intelligent-looking person. Her husband then taking his seat beside me, we fell into conversation, the chances of being overheard being small, on account of the noise made by the train. Said he to a question of mine: .

"I should never have taken any part in this war, could I have helped myself. But when the conscription law was passed, I knew there was no chance for my escaping it, nor could I remove with my family. If I remained, I must go into the army as a private. This I could not endure, and so I obtained an office."

At this moment, the cars suddenly stopped, and an officer attended by a guard, who must have partially overheard the last portion of the speaker's remarks, ordered him to leave me, and take a seat in another part of the car.

Presently, we reached a place where we were detained three hours. While waiting here, the master of that negro whom we chased in the swamp, and whom I have before mentioned as having a basket of corn strapped to his back, stepped aboard of the train. He came forward smiling, and, taking us by the hand, told us