The Adventures of Two Alabama Boys

by H. J. Crumpton; Washington Bryan Crumpton

The remains of burned homes I could see; now and then a place was spared and evidently the people were about, but out of sight. I was almost in despair of reaching a place to spend the night, when just before dark, I looked down and saw one of the most beautiful sights I ever beheld. It was an old country home, the doors wide open, good fires burning, the negro quarters stretching out and fires burning brightly in the cabins. I heard the lowing of cattle, the bleating of sheep, the cackling of poultry, all indicating a place of plenty. I found it to be an old lady's home, whose son and grand son had been with Jeff Thompson captured and galvanized. They were so outspoken, I made bold that night to tell them who I was and where I was going. They said: "It is impossible for you to go any further until Caster river goes down. As the road runs, it crosses the river three times. There is a possibility of your going far up the river and getting a "galvanized" man to put you across in a boat, and at another place getting a widow woman to send you across on horseback and then

REACHING OLD 'UNCLE McCULLOUGH'S,'

but you ought not to undertake it. Stay with us until Monday morning at least." The old lady did not hear this conversation. The boys were off early the next morning to their work, confident that I was going to remain. I concluded the mother ought to be consulted, and so I ventured to say, as she was washing the dishes: "The boys said that it would be all right for me to remain and rest here until Monday morning. I suppose it will be all right with you?" She said "y-e-s, I reckin so." I saw at once that I was not welcome. I thought about it a little while and presently returned and said: "I believe, on reflection, if you will fix me up a lunch, I will go on." She did so without any protest. "How much do I owe you?" I asked. "Half a dollar," was the reply. It was the first time anybody suggested a price like that and I had only a quarter left. I took out the quarter and said: "This is as near as I can come to paying it." I fully expected the old soul to say "keep it," but, bless your life, she took it, saying: "That's lots better than a heap of them do; they come here and bring their horses and spend a week and don't say turkey about money."

So I made the trip, after many adventures, falling into the overflow a time or two, and reached "Uncle McCullough's" just at night fall. Providence was leading me, I believe. Had I carried out my plans to remain until Monday morning, that stream at the village would have gone down and the Yankees doubtless would have found me there, then I would have been done for.

So much for my antipathy to staying where I am not welcome. It served me in good turn on that occasion as it has on many another.

"Uncle McCullough" was an uncle of Gen. Ben McCullough, who was distinguishing himself at this time as a Confederate General. As I stood in the door and looked at the old patriarch, standing before a large fire, in an old-fashioned fireplace,

I FELT LIKE ONE IN A DREAM.

He was the same height and same complexion as my own uncle, Richard Bryan, with whom I had lived when a boy at Pleasant Hill in Dallas county. The similarity of the house, the cedar trees in front and the further coincidence of both being class-leaders in the Methodist church—I was almost dazed that night as I thought about it. I said to the old gentleman: "I am traveling, I have no money, and I want to stay all night, please sir." The response from his old warm heart came immediately: "Why come in, my son, of course you can stay all night, money don't make any difference here. You seem to be wet, you must have some dry clothes," with that he took me into another room and dressed me up in his best, wrung out my clothes and hung them before the fire to dry. He took me into a kitchen, with a dirt floor, identical with "Uncle Dick's" home when I was a boy, and introduced me to a dear old soul who was the very image of old "Aunt Nancy." After supper I opened my heart to him: "I have been saying I was going to Greenville. I don't know anything about Greenville, or care anything about it; I want to go South and join the Confederate army." The old man said: "Well, my son, you are dangerously near Greenville, only twelve miles; the Yankees were out here today and may be out here tonight. I don't know what I will do with you. It is too cold for you to go out to the fodder-loft, so I am going to put you in bed and pray the Lord to protect you."

YOU PEOPLE, WHO DON'T BELIEVE IN PRAYER:

The boy I am telling you about was not very religious, but when the old patriarch told him he was going to pray for him, when he lay down on that bed, he felt as secure as if an army of soldiers had been around him.