The majority of the residents in this county held the same opinions as these two. I would like to give the names of these gentlemen, but as they might possibly get into some of those traitorous Northern papers which circulate in the South, and thereby bring them into trouble, I am constrained to suppress them.
We remained at this house all night, and bidding our new friends farewell, started the next morning on our way. We kept the Darien road, which I could recognize by the descriptions given of it by the negroes. Our next stopping-place was far from agreeable, for every one in it was a strong secessionist—so strong indeed, that, when they found out our characters, they did not object to the sheriff having anything he wanted, but not with us. The keeper of the house at which we were, cursed fearfully, they utterly refused to give us anything to eat, swearing that the d——d Yankees shouldn’t have a morsel of food. The sheriff, however, pacified him at last by telling him that I was from Virginia, and that, although I was in the Yankee army, still I was as pro-slavery a man as himself. This made matters a little better, and the surly host proceeded to question me. I baffled him, however, by saying:
“What paper do you take?”
“We don’t take none,” said he, “fur I can’t read. Have you ever been in a fight?” he quickly added to his reply. I answered in the affirmative.
“Have you ever seed a gunboat?”
“Yes,” I rejoined.
He then became much interested, and was not satisfied until I had given him a long description of a gunboat, its object, and its powers.
At this juncture five villainous-looking men entered the room, and calling to my listener, took him outside. When the sheriff saw this, he turned rather pale, fearing that some violence was threatened. When he was about to leave with us, he asked the landlord what his bill was.
“Oh, nothing! as you’re taking them d——d Yankees to justice,” was the reply.