THE OLD DRAKE’S TERRITORY
[J. L. Underwood.]
When Sherman’s army was making its celebrated “march to the sea,” it cut a swath of fire and desolation from Atlanta to Savannah and on through the Carolinas. What food was not seized for the army was consumed by fire. Mills and barns and hundreds of dwellings were consigned to the flames. Most of the people fled from the approach of the Federals and especially were the old men, who might be thought by negroes and bummers to have money concealed on their persons or premises, afraid to fall into their hands. Somewhere not far from Milledgeville, a well-to-do farmer lay hid in the woods where he saw the Federals enter his premises and carry off everything of any use or value. Not a strip of bedding, not an ear of corn, a hough of a cow nor the tail of a pig did they leave him. Before the Yankee brigade got entirely out of sight the old farmer came into his desolate home. One glance at the wreck and away he went in pursuit of the Federals. “Oh, General, General, stop your command,” was the cry. On they marched without hearing him. On he rushed and cried as he ran, “Oh, General, oh, General, stop your command.” Finally when he was nearly out of breath the cry was heard and the brigade halted.
“What’s the matter, man?” said the soldiers, as he passed on by them, his face all flushed with excitement.
“Where’s the General?”
“Yonder he is, sitting on that black horse.”
Everybody stood still to hear the breathless message.
“Oh, General!”
“Well, what’s the trouble, sir?”