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County. My brother left home the day before the Regiment took up the march, expecting to get a permit to come by home, but alas! such are the cruelties of war. From some cause unknown to me he failed to come -- and although he went away cheerful, not even shaking hands, we never met again. After they had been at Clarksville sometime, two soldiers passed our house, and told the servant, Dock, that Hezekiah Porter was very sick. Father started forthwith to see him -- in arriving, however, he was agreeably surprised to find brother well and hearty. He remained a few days, started home, and was taken sick, soon after starting. He traveled a few miles a day, until he arrived within eight miles of home, at the home of Maj. Houghton. Finding that he could come no farther, he sent for the family. Mother went immediately. Afterwards, the two younger sisters went. The rest of the family never got to see him alive. He died February 17, 1862, age 58 years and about two months. His body was brought home and buried Masonically in the family burying ground. Would have given other dates, if I could have remembered them.

The Regiment soon took the line of march to Arkansas. On the way my brother was taken sick of measles, together with two comrades, to wit -- Perry Cherry and Bolivar Lilly. They were left to partially recover, and they started to overtake the command. They traveled one day, which caused a relapse, and he died that night, it being March 6, 1862, age twenty years, one month and ten days. He was buried at Clear Spring church, Clark County, Arkansas. Comment is useless upon the troubles we saw at this time; no one can imagine, unless it was one who had realized similar losses.

I will now return to my own history -- my father and only brother now being dead, the charge and support of my Mother's family, in a great measure, devolved upon me. Fortunately, however, my Mother was an extremely good manager; and with her experience and advice to assist me, I shouldered, or tried to shoulder the responsibilities of the family, though it was the heaviest burden that I ever tried to carry.

Myself, and servant Dock, pitched a crop of thirty-five acres, but I had not more than finished planting, when the Confederate Congress passed the Conscript law, compelling every man between the age of 18 and 35 to join the army. I was 18 years old on the 22nd of April, but I determined, if possible, to finish my crop. I thought duty to my Mother's family demanded it; and when persons were too inquisitive about my age, and there were a great many (and some who had shared my Father's hospitality, and pretended great friendship, seemed anxious to push me off), I gave very little satisfaction, but baffled along, went nowhere that I could help, until the 22nd of June, when I saddled and mounted my horse, and started for Jefferson, Texas, where [Col. William Beck] Ocheltree's Regiment was rendezvousing. Sorrowful day: I remember it vividly yet, though nearly twenty-one years have intervened between then and now. I thought as I went along, more of the loved ones I had left behind than of myself, especially of my aged Mother, who had just lost her husband and son, and now to be called upon to give up the last one, for the cruel law of those who had been so deceitful in their friendship, who had used every endeavor to push me

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off then and even sooner. I never felt so lonely before. I went fifteen miles that afternoon. Stayed at Mr. Roger's house. Uncle Bud, as he was familiarly called. He soon found out what I was doing, and was very sorry and sympathetic, and tried to influence me to return to my Mother, which I would readily have done, but I knew I could not stay. So after passing a restless night, I resumed my journey, arriving at camp about 3:00 o'clock June 23rd. My business was soon made known to the officers, who made arrangements to swear me into service, which was done the 24th of June 1862, and I became a Confederate soldier. I obtained a permit to return home and prepare to march at any time. I stayed a few days, got such clothing as my Mother and sisters could make in the time, and was off again, but with the hope of returning home again before we left for the seat of war, which I did, through the kindness of Lieut. Col. [David B.] Culberson, who could not, owing to orders, grant a pass, but gave me a detail to come home and get a gun, which detail I complied with. I left home early one morning in July, I am sorry that I have forgotten the precise date. My Mother, knowing that it was not probable that I would return again soon, led me to the gate, embraced and kissed me, and committed me to the care of a kind Providence, who, no doubt, in answer to her prayer, shielded me from the dangers incident to camp life. She also repeated this verse, as she held me in her embrace.

"The Mother who conceals her grief,
While to her breast, her son she presses,
She breathes a few brave words, and brief,
Kissing the patriot brow she blesses;
With no one, but her Loving God,
To know the pain that weighs upon her,
Sheds Holy blood, as e'er the sod,
Receive on Freedom's field of honor."

In a few days the first Battalion, to which I belonged, took up the march for Little Rock, Arkansas. (Again, I do not remember the precise date.) Via the following places, to wit -- Bright Star, Arkansas, thence to Line Ferry, on Red River, thence to Louisville, where a great many fell sick of measles, myself among the number. We lost a lot of men from the Regiment by the contagion -- two from our Company [H], to wit: William Hackler and a man named Owen. We lost Kas Coffman, who died about this time at home. I omitted to state in proper place, that we lost William Williams, while at Jefferson. We marched from Louisville, under command of Col. [William Beck] Ochiltree to Godboll's church, thence to Princeton, thence to Camden, thence to Little Rock, thence to Camp Nelson, near Austin, Praria County, Arkansas. On this trip, I think it was, at Godboll's church, that my mess got hold of a quantity of eggs and a number of watermelons, and I being in low hellth [sic] and not having much control over my appetite, ate too much of our rarity, and made myself quite sick. At Camp Nelson, we were organized into brigades, and the several brigades into a division, which was commanded by Gen. Henry E. McCullouch. The brigade commanders were Cols. [Horace] Randall, [Richard] Watterhouse and [Overton C.] Young. We were under command of the latter. Gen. McCullouch was a very ordinary man; appearantly about six feet tall,

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blue eyes, brown hair, as well as I remember, and beardless, and I think the sequal will show he did not deceive his appearance.

At this camp, we spent several weeks, learning the drill and guard duty, etc. Here we suffered from disease, incident to becoming inured to the hardships of soldier life. Many of our men died -- John Hart and a man named Thompson were among the number. There was scarcely an hour in the day, but what there could be heard plattoons firing over the dead.

In September I suppose, I do not remember the precise date, we took up line of march to Duvall's Bluff [De Valls Bluff], on White River -- the object I never knew precisely, but from the apparent anxiety of the officers, they must have expected the enemy, though we were poorly prepared to meet them, as we had not yet drawn arms, and our equipage then was real ludricous; and after we learned what real service was, we had many hearty laughs over our Duvall expedition. Our arms consisted of shot guns and squirrel rifles that we had carried from home. Some had locks, some none, some without any hammers. But we and our officers were brave enough, after giving each man a pocket full of bullets, and a canteen of powder to the company, to start to meet the foe. After encountering heavy rains, and miry roads, we arrived at the Bluff. Camped, stacked our arms after a fashion, but they soon fell down, whereupon Col. Culberson ordered them taken to a large gate fifty yards distant, and stacked against that, for fear some one might get shot. Here, for the first time, I was near Gen. McCullouch, and heard him talk, -- my former opinion was not in the least changed. From here, we went up the river to Desark [Des Ark, AR]; remained a few days and returned to old Camp Nelson. On this trip many of the men fell sick from exposure. Being unaccustomed to hardships, many died. A man named [W. F.] Baxter of our company died at Desark. On this expedition, Maj. [Wilburn Hill] King of our Regiment, rejoined us; he had been to Richmond, Virginia, to procure arms for the Regiment. At the old camp, we resumed our drill and guard duty.

Here, I met my cousin, B. P. Beaty, whom I had not seen in seven years. I recognized him instantly. He was a member of the Fourteenth Regiment commanded by Col. [Edward] Clark.

Here, although the country had every appearance of health, high, rolling, and the prettiest springs of water I ever saw, the men continued to fall sick and die. We lost three others, Bass, Styles, and Hathcox, all of typhoid fever. The two former, I assisted in nursing. Styles was sick 56 days, Bass 64 days. The former, we buried, together with two others from the Regiment, in one day. Dug three graves side by side. The ambulance returned for the third one.

Here, the guns above described, were replaced by the ones Maj. King had procured.

At this place, I was taken sick, and sent to the hospital camp, half a mile from the camp. We lost at this camp, William Sears and John Loyd, and more, no doubt, who have escaped my memory -- and other