As soon as I was well out of their sight, toward Shelbyville, I turned off on a by-road, and took my way to the "Widow's bridge." About two miles from this bridge, I stopped to get my supper, at a house occupied by a widow named Cheatham, who was a relative of General Cheatham, and of Cheatham, the mayor of Nashville. She received me with generous hospitality, and soon provided a bountiful supper for me. Giving my horse time to rest after eating, for I had to ride all night, I sat and talked to the lady after supper for some time. She had much to say about General Breckenridge, who had been camped very near her house, a few days before, and who had paid her a visit. She was very much flattered at this, and told me that part of the General's command were camped near, and that there was a picket post at the far end of the bridge. When night set in, I called for my horse, and told the lady that I believed I would ride. It was in the latter part of March, and when I went out to my horse, the wind was blowing almost a gale, and snow was drifting in the air profusely. The widow went out through the storm to see me mounted at the gate. She expressed the liveliest sympathy for me in having to ride through that dark, cold, stormy night; and seeing that I had no gloves to draw on, she sent a negro into the house for a pair of yarn gloves, with instructions where to find them, and to hurry back, for she was already getting cold. Presently the negro returned with the articles, and as I was drawing them on, I began to grumble at the cold. "Wait a minute," she said, and away she went to the house, and soon came running back with a very fine white wool blanket, which she folded like a shawl and threw around me, pinning it under my chin with her own hands. Bidding this hospitable lady good bye, I mounted and was soon prowling around the picket post at the bridge. I discovered that the structure was in good repair, and that it could be crossed with safety; then turning up the river, I inspected, in turn, two others across the stream. While prowling about the second one, which was only a mile from town, I unexpectedly run into a company of rebels, who were returning to their camp. I was just riding out from the bridge, when the sound of horse's feet approaching attracted my attention. How to escape meeting them I could not tell; so posting myself by the side of the fence, under the shadow of a large tree, when they had approached within a short distance, I sung out "Halt," in a loud and resolute tone, and in the next breath demanded, "Who comes there?"
"Friends," was the prompt reply.
"Dismount one and advance with the countersign."
"We haven't got the countersign," said the commander.
"What do you belong to," I asked.
"Morgan's battalion," he replied.
"Then break from the right," said I, "and pass us by file until we see what you look like; and if you prove to be confederates, you may pass in without delay."
Breaking by file, as ordered, they marched by me so close that I could have touched them with a ten foot pole. Keeping myself under the shadow of the tree, I pretended to inspect them as they rode by. When a few files had passed, I sung out, "All right, captain, you can reform your men."
"Form fours; forward, march," he shouted, and I soon heard his men clattering over the bridge and cursing it as an old "basket" that was unsafe to cross, and must soon fall down. They had not gone more than a few steps before the officer ordered his men to dismount and lead over by file, swearing that he believed the bridge would break if they did not do so. Of course this was information to me. I well knew that I must now ride for my life, for the trick would be discovered as soon as they reached the picket on the other side of the bridge. Turning up the road and keeping on soft ground, I followed until I came to a "timber" road, running through a cedar brake, where I turned off, and was soon safe from pursuit in the labyrinth of ways that ran in all directions through the woods. Keeping up the country, I passed above the town about five miles, and hiding my horse in another brake not far from a house, (for I heard a chicken crow,) I followed the direction of the sound, and finding the house, roused a darkey, and got some corn bread and bacon from him, and directions where to find corn for my horse. I returned to where my animal was hitched, fed him, and laid down to sleep. I stayed in that brake until the next night, and then commencing at the upper bridge, I hunted down the river toward Shelbyville again, and found two more bridges, besides the one at the town, in good repair.