"Thank you; my ride this morning makes me quite hungry."
The breakfast was just what I wanted, and his invitation saved me the trouble of asking for it. When I had finished, said I,
"Mister, look 'e here; have you got any more of that 'divine, adorable stuff?'"
"Yes, I have got more of it in the cellar."
"Well, can't you bestow a little more of your hospitality on a fellow, in the shape of about a pint, to put in my pocket and take along?"
"Yes, certainly you can," spoke the planter's wife, "if I can find any thing to put it in." She then went in search of a bottle, and soon returned with a pint bottle filled with it, which she stowed away in my coat pocket with her own hands.
With a profusion of thanks and good wishes to them, I bade them adieu, and resumed my journey. Somewhere near three miles east of Somerville is a beautiful spring, that makes its exit from the ground beneath a group of shady elm trees. There I saw three men, engaged in washing their stockings! It is not usual for men to wash their own stockings in the ordinary peaceful avocations of life, and the fact of their being so engaged, and also dressed like citizens, was conclusive evidence to me that they were guerrillas. Riding down to the spring and dismounting, I said, pulling out my bottle, "Look 'e here, boys; here is a present that I received this morning; won't you try some of it?"
One of the men took the bottle and drank, and the other two declined, saying that they never drank. I then took a "little smile" myself, mounted my horse, and rode on.
Finding no troops at Somerville, on my arrival there, I continued on, taking the road that leads south to Lagrange, which place I reached late in the afternoon. There I found four regiments of infantry and two regiments of cavalry. They had just arrived, and had not yet thrown out any pickets. The advance cavalry had but just entered the town, and the other troops were coming in the distance.
I rode along into town among the soldiers, as familiarly as if I belonged in the place, and stopped near the drug store. Standing within a few feet of the drug store, was a large, corpulent, red-faced old man, with hair almost white, leaning upon a walking-staff; near by was a Colonel, dismounted, and leaning with his left hand upon his saddle; all about were cavalry soldiers, dismounted. As I reined up, the old man pointed to me, and said, "Colonel, there is a d—d Yankee spy; he ought to be shot. I know him, Colonel, and know that he is a Yankee spy."