Grierson's raid, then in progress, was the universal theme of conversation and wonder. That dashing cavalier, selecting his route with excellent judgment, evaded all the large forces which opposed him, and defeated all the small ones, while he rode leisurely the entire length of Mississippi, tearing up railroads and burning bridges. Occasionally he addressed the people in humorous harangues. To one old lady, who tremblingly begged that her property might not be destroyed, he replied:—
"You shall certainly be protected, madam. It is not my object to hurt any body. It is not generally known, but the truth is, I am a candidate for Governor, and am stumping the State."
Our slow progress enabled us to converse much with the people, constantly preaching to them the gospel of the Union. But they had so long heard only the gospel according to Jefferson Davis, that they paid little heed to our threatenings of the judgment which was certain to come.
In the dense woods which the railways traversed, the pine, the palm and the magnolia, grew side by side, festooned with long, hairy tufts of Spanish moss. On the plantations, the young cotton, three inches high, looked like sprouting beans.
Colburn's solemn waggery was constantly cropping out. In our car one day he had a long discussion with a brawny Texan officer, who declared with great bitterness that he had assisted in hanging three Abolitionists upon a single blackjack,[16] in sight of his own door. He concluded with the usual assertion:—
An Enraged Texan Officer.
"We will fight to the last man! We will die in the last ditch!"
"Well, sir," replied Colburn, with the utmost gravity, "if you should do that and all be killed, we should regret it extremely!"
Like most Southerners, the Texan was insensible to satire. Understanding this to be perfectly sincere, he reiterated:—