808 Southern Historical Society Papers.
jostling those that came welling up from childhood's memories, as I was leaving the scenes of those memories, perhaps forever, I heard the tramp of some of that immortal " foot cavalry," that still clung to our standards and answered old " Marse Bob's" roll-call, and they halted there for the night.
Soon a tired, dusty, foot-sore soldier came up to my fire and asked if he could parch some corn. I said, " Yes, certainly." I watched the poor fellow by the flickering light as he drew a handful of corn out of his dirty old haversack and put it in his pan. I said, " My friend, is that all you have ? " He said, " Yes, and I have had noth- ing better for three days." "Are you going to stand by Marse Bob to the last?" The light which flashed up in the old soldier's face from the fire of a noble spirit almost outshone that thrown out by the dying embers beneath, as he proudly straightened up and re- plied: "Yes, sir, to the last!" I reached for my haversack, just filled that day by loving hands, and handing it to my old comrade, told him to help himself. This he modestly did, and even while he satisfied his appetite, gentle slumber visited my tired eyelids, and, as with the morning light came the ringing call of " boots and sad- dles," I looked around for my comrade of the night before, but the "foot-cavalry " were already gone, and he was on his way to " Sail- or's Creek," where it may be he sealed his devotion to his country's cause with his blood. If my haversack was lighter that morning, so was my heart, and as long as I have a crust I think I shall be proud to share it with one like him.
We moved on hurriedly to the " High Bridge," intending to dis- lodge a detachment of the enemy then in possession of that point. They were composed of infantry, cavalry, and artillery, how strong I do not know, but we captured 800 of them and fed them on Con- federate delicacies until we reached Appomattox, and there, not being able to board them any longer, we were guilty of the rude- ness of asking them to leave and go home. Our cavalry commands were sadly wasted, regiments being no more than companies and brigades hardly good regiments. The engagement was short and sharp, but the boys had lost none of their mettle.
THREE DESPERATE MEN.
The enemy's cavalry charged that part of the line where I stood three times. They were mounted, and we dismounted. A single, well-directed volley' scattered them each time, but the second time
