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were sent in yawls, to try to rescue him, but all in vain. He soon ceased to holler, and those in search returned. We were a mixed multitude, and no one seemed to know who he was. Some mother wept for a son, or sister for a brother, or perhaps, a wife for a husband, who never knew his fate. We arrived at Shreveport in afternoon of July 29th, after a wearisome trip of four and a half days. Most of the time, on short rations, caused by a division with the five men, who hurried off without anything to eat on their journey. We were forced to take roasting ears and watermelons, along the river bank, of a night and when the boat would stop for wood; but think that none was taken unnecessarily. When we arrived in Shreveport, a comrade and I got a small loaf of bread, and set out for Greenwood, a distance of sixteen miles -- intending to walk there that night, but after traveling until 10:00 o'clock, completely exhausting ourselves, J. C. Clinton and I asked permission to sleep on the veranda of a house, which was granted. We then asked how far back to Shreveport, and learned that we had traveled but nine miles, only a little over half our trip accomplished, and we were so weak from starvation and confinement, that we almost despaired of reaching our destination in time for the train, but we arose early and resumed our journey. On the way, we bought and ate some watermelons. All arrived in plenty of time and got aboard.

Gen. [S. B.] Buckner and wife were on the train -- the officer who refused to escape from Ft. Donalson [Ft. Donelson, Tennessee], because the garrison could not escape too, but surrendered with them.

He looked to be forty years old, large portly man; weighed perhaps one hundred and eighty pounds, hair and beard gray, but looked young otherwise. She was a tall lady, looked older than he, except her hair was very black, as well as I remember.

We got off at Marshall, Tex., at 12:00 o'clock, and walked three miles on the Coffeyville road, when we began to divide off into twos (a couple) to get something to eat. N. A. Seale, now Rev. N. A. Seale, and I, went to a house, a little way off, and called for dinner, which was readily granted. We were treated courteously, and asked a great many questions, of where from and where bound, where we belonged, etc., and finally, our names. On learning mine, he inquired more particularly of my parents. He told me he was Judge Mason, and once lived a neighbor to my parents. He passed many compliments on them, and sent his respects to my mother. They gave us a good dinner -- the first time I had eaten at a table, or had a square meal in four months. I will always remember Judge Mason and family with the kindest of feeling for their kindness to us. After dinner, we resumed our journey, and overtook the rest of the boys -- traveled on till night, and all camped on the roadside, it being the night of July 30th. Next morning, we started early, called for breakfast at a Mr. Knox's house. At the table, I took sick and ate but little. Had fears that I was taking smallpox, as I had been exposed to it for months. Soon as all had eaten, we resumed our homeward march. After a few miles walk, however, I failed, gave out -- told my comrades to go on, not to wait on me. I spread down my blanket, in shade, and lay down, alone, and without friends near me. I

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could only trust to Providence to furnish me transportation home. A person who has never experienced such loneliness, can not imagine how one feels under such circumstances. A man in time of peace, left very sick, by the roadside, with no friend nigh, would think death inevitable, but a soldier, inured to the hardships of camp life, and war, thinks lightly of such surroundings, at least, he never thinks of desponding.

I had remained there but a short time, when a little boy came riding along, going in the opposite direction to that I wished to go. I halted him, however, and tried to hire him to turn back and carry me to Coffeyville, a distance of seven miles; he replied that he was compelled to go a little way farther, on some business, and then would return, and comply with my request. In the meantime, however, while I was waiting, another boy came along, going in the direction I wished to go, so I hailed him, and asked if he would carry me, and what he would charge, (for money was an object), he said he was not going so far as Coffeyville, but would carry me as far as he was going in that direction, then we would talk about the pay. I was elated at the prospect of going toward home, some faster than afoot. He gave me the saddle, and he rode behind, although he was a large boy, and I think had been or was going a-courting. I had not been on horse back in two years. He let me ride two or three miles and charged me $2.00. I walked a half mile, and overtook T. N. Steed, one of my comrades. I sat down by a tree to rest, and tore the entire back out of my shirt. It being the only one I had, or had had since a prisoner. I had it off while in prison and washed it, and went without one until it dried.

My comrade immediately drew out one for me to wear home. Had I been alone, I do not know what I would have done. Very soon the first boy, I had spoken to, came along, and I counted, to ride on to Coffeyville. The boy's mother invited me to eat dinner, which I accepted. After dinner she had two mules saddled, and sent Clem Clinton and me six miles farther on our way -- this brought us to Mrs. Montgomery's, whose son, William, was one of our number. T. N. Steed and I remained here for the night. Next morning, our friend and comrade, Montgomery, sent us six miles farther. This brought us to a Mrs. Davis', a relative of my friend Steed. She prepared breakfast for us, but I was too sick to eat. As soon as my friend, Steed had eaten, she had her team harnessed up and hooked to a wagon, and brought us to her father's, Elijah Bailey, this brought us within five miles of home. Mrs. Reeves, another daughter of Mr. Bailey, had her son Sam, saddle the horses and take us home. I arrived home at 1:00 P.M. Aug. 1st, 1864, the happiest day of my life. I found them all there, that I had left a little over two years before. I can not describe my feeling, neither can I describe the joy of my good mother and sisters. I will ever remember that day, with pleasing reflections. I suppose the joy at my return was something kin to the return of the Prodigal son. There was no "fatted calf", but a pig was slaughtered, and I donned the best apparel, and was happy. My arrival, was wholly unexpected -- my mother was sitting, reading the Bible, where I could see her through the window. She looked as natural as the day I left; it seemed to me that not another hair had turned gray. My sister Sue, now Mrs. McCraw saw me first, and knew me.

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I could see no change of consequence in anything, after a two years absence, except the shade trees in the yard had grown wonderfully.

That night, I was taken very sick, again had fears of taking the smallpox, as I had been exposed during my imprisonment. Sent for Dr. Felder next morning, (Aug. 2, 1864) (my first meeting with him). It all proved, however, to be a cold I had contracted while on the boat.

The thoughts of returning, however, soon began to sour the sweets of home. The time rolled away fast, and when my forty-two days had gone, I still was unable to return, and Dr. Felder gave me a certificate of disability for thirty more days -- together I had seventy-two days, which of ten, it took to come and return. The time soon rolled away, and Sept. 26th I again bid farewell to relatives and friends, and was off to the war again. I employed Abe Gilliland to go with me to Marshall, and bring my horse back home. We arrived there at 12:00 o'clock, the second day. I dismounted in town, and turned my horse over to my friend. I felt sad and lonely indeed. I got directions to the powder mill, as I had acquaintances there, and I could not get a train till morning, and believe I stayed until the second morning, when I bid my friends, Sam Cope and James Robertson goodbye, and went to the depot, where I found that I would have to walk two miles farther, on account of a trestle being broken down. I arrived in plenty of time, and was soon in Greenwood, La. There I took the stage for Shreveport. I had quite a pleasant time, there were two ladies, Hun Williams, (the dancing master and fiddler) another gentleman, a little boy and myself, inside. The ladies were returning from a visit to Jefferson. They had a basket of nice eatables, and gave a general invitation. I was glad I had been home, and had had enough to eat. Had I been as hungry as we sometimes were, I fear I would have made myself ridiculous. Hun Williams entertained us with his fine music on the violin. We arrived in Shreveport about 3:00 o'clock -- the other passengers stopped at the hotel. I inquired for Col. Shiver's office. On arriving there, he called for my furlough, which I produced together with the certificate. He remarked that it was all right, and ordered his clerk to give me a pass to the transient camp. He told me he was stopping all, until he got together a number, then he would furnish us transportation. Arriving at said camp, in the suburbs, I found two of my Company. We remained here about two weeks, when we were ordered to march -- two wagons carrying our baggage. We were divided into three squads (200 in all perhaps) each under command of a Serg't., all under command of a Maj. Shaver. He tried to march us in military order, he in front in a carriage, but failed entirely. He finally quit trying, and we scattered in all directions. We found the Command a few miles beyond Camden, Ark. I do not now remember the date of our arrival, however, it was sometime in Nov. 1864. The weather was quite cool. We had not before been with the command since Jan. We had been the garrison at the fort, in prison, and at home on furlough, which kept us away nearly a year; during which time, there had occurred the Mansfield, Pleasant Hill and Jenkin's Ferry battles, in which many of the old Reg't, had fallen. For weeks after my arrival, I would think, and inquire of this, that and the other one, the answer would be "He was killed in one of those battles".