A PIT TO HIDE IN.

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theirs. The squawking grew fainter and fainter, and then ceased.

"The people all through this section I allow will never forget the battle," said Mr. ———. "Friday night Johnson's left wing was at Brooks's, the last house you passed to-day befo'e you fo'ded Owl Crick. The woods was just full of men. They took Brooks, to make him show 'em the way. He said he did n't know the woods, and that was the fact; but they swo'e he lied, and he must go with 'em, and they 'd shoot him if he led 'em amiss. He was in a powerful bad fix; but, lucky for him they had n't gone fur when they met Dammern, an old hunter, that knew every branch and thicket in the country. So they swapped off Brooks for Dammern.

"The Federals was on the other side of us, and I allowed there was going to be a battle. And it looked to me as if it was going to be right on my farm."

"That was the awfulest night I ever had in my life," said Mrs. "My husband was for leaving at once. But it did n't appear like I could bear the idea of it. Though what to do with ourselves if we staid? We've no cellar, and if we'd had one, and got into it, a shell might have set the house afire, and buried us under it. So I proposed we should dig a hole to get into. He allowed that might be the best thing. So the next morning I got off betimes, and went over and counselled with our neighbors through the grove, and told 'em I thought it would be a grand idee to dig a pit for both our families, and so they came over hyere and went to digging.” "You never see men work so earnest as we did till about 'leven o'clock," said Mr. "Finally we got the pit dug, between the house and the spring. But when it was done it looked so much like a grave the weemun dreaded to get into it, and so much like a breast work we men was afraid both armies would just play their artilleries onto it. give her consent we should take to the swamps. do with the pit? for if it got shelled, the house would be destroyed; and then thar was danger the armies would use the hole to bury their dead in, and the bodies would spoil our

So my wife But what to

spring. And as we could n't take the pit with us, it appeared like thar was but one thing to do. So we put in and worked right earnest till we 'd filled it up again. A rain had come on Friday night, and bogged down some of Johnson's artillery be tween hyere and Corinth, and that's my understanding why the fight did n't come off Saturday. That give us time to git off. I took my family three miles back to a cabin in the swamp, and thar they staid till it was all over; only Zeek and me come back for some loads of goods. We took one load Saturday, and come for another Monday. That was the second day of the fight. We found the place covered with Rebel soldiers. The battle was going on then. The roar of artillery was so loud you could n't converse at one end of the house, whur the echo was. The musketry sounded like a roaring wind; the artillery was like peals of thunder.

"Thar was one family caught on the battle-field. They had staid, because the man was laying dangerously sick, and they dreaded to move him. After the fighting begun, they started to get away. The little boy was shot through the head, and the horse killed. The weemun then just took up the sick man and run with him down into the swamp."

"We had a nephew living on the battle-field," said Mrs. —. "The family was down with the measles at the time. But when they see thar was to be a fight, they just moved a plank in the ceiling over head, and hid up all their bacon, and lard, and corn-meal, and everything to eat they could n't take with 'em. Then they tuke up a child apiece and come on for us; we'd done gone when they got hyere, and they come tearing through the swampy ground after us, toting their babes. They staid with us in the cabin till after the battle. But by that time his house was occupied by soldiers. He'd been right ingenious hiding his provisions, so nobody could find 'em; but the soldiers went to tearing off ceilings to get planks to make boxes, and down come the corn-meal and bacon; so they had a pretty rich supply."

"After that," said Mr.

"his house got burnt. Nearly all the houses and fences for miles, on the battle-field, was

MAGGIE'S HUSBAND.

burnt, so that it was just one common.

319

Thar was nobody left. You never see such desolation. Then the armies moved off, leaving a rich pasture. I had my cattle pastured thar all that summer."

Mrs. proposed that the children should sing for me a little piece called "The Drummer Boy of Shiloh.” Her husband favored the suggestion, saying it was "a right nice composed little song."

"I've plumb forgotten it," said Zeek. And the little girls, who blushingly undertook it after much solicitation, could remember only a few lines here and there, greatly to the parents' chagrin.

Mrs. — was at times very thoughtful; and she told me a newly married elder daughter had that day left home with her husband.

"We'll go by their house in the morning, and I'll show it to you," said Zeek.

I congratulated the parents on having their child settled so near them; yet Mrs. could scarcely speak of the separation without rising tears. All were eloquent in their praises of the young husband. He was doing right well, when the war, the cruel, wasteful war, swept him in, and he fought for the slave despotism four years, without a dollar of pay. That left him plumb flat. But he was a right smart worker. He was a splendid hand to make rails. He could write also. After the surrender, he just let in to work, and made a crop; and after the crop was laid by, (i. e., when the corn was hoed for the last time,) he pitched into writing. He employed himself as a teacher of that art. He had already taught nine schools, of ten successive lessons each, at two dollars a scholar. He had had as many as sixty pupils of an evening. I sympathized sincerely with the satisfaction they all felt in having their Maggie married to so smart a man. Indeed, I was beginning greatly to like this little family, and to feel a personal interest in all their affairs. It delights me now to recall that December evening, spent in the red firelight of that humble farm-house; and if I record their peculiarities of speech and

manners, it is because they were characteristic and pleas ing.

At eight o'clock, Zeek, weary with his long ride that day, said, "I believe I'll lie down," and, without further ceremony, took off his clothes and got into one of the beds in the room. Mrs. thought I also must be tired, and said I could go to bed when I pleased. Thinking it possible I might be assigned to the same apartment, I concluded to sit up until the audience became somewhat smaller. The girls presently went up-stairs, lighted to their beds by the fire, which shone up the stairway and through the cracks in the chamber floor. I took courage then to say that I was ready to retire; and, to my gratification, saw a candle lighted to show me to my chamber,though I marvelled where that could be, for I supposed I had seen every room in the house, except the loft to which the girls had gone, when I had seen the sitting-room and kitchen.

Mr. took me first out-doors, to a stoop on the side of the house opposite the great opening. Thence a door opened into a little framed box of a room built up against the loghouse, as an addition. There was scarcely space to turn in it. The walls consisted of the naked, rough boards. There was not even a latch to the door, which opened into the universal night, and which the wind kept pushing in. Mr. — advised me to place the chair against it, which I did. I set the candle in the chair, and blew it out after I had got into bed. Then looking up, I saw with calm joy a star through the roof. It was interesting to know that this was the bridal chamber.

The bed was deep and comfortable, and I did not suffer from cold, although I could feel the fingers of the wind toying with my hair. The night was full of noises, like the reports of pistols. It was the old house cracking its joints.

DEPARTURE.

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CHAPTER XLV.

THE FIELD OF SHILOH.

DAYLIGHT next morning shone in through the chinks of the bridal chamber (for window it had none), and I awoke refreshed, after sound sleep. The dawn was enlivened by pleasing old-time sounds, the farmer chopping wood at the door, crowing cocks, gossiping geese, and the new-made fire snapping and crackling in the next room.

The morning was very cold. The earth was covered with white frost, like snow. We had breakfast at the usual hour. "Farmers commonly get their breakfases by sun-up," said mine host. At table (both doors open, and everybody shivering) Mrs. remarked that if it was any colder in my country she would not like to live there. I said to her, "We should call this cold weather, though we have some much colder. But, allow me to tell you, I have suffered more from the cold since I have been in Tennessee, than I have for ten years in the North. There, when we go out of doors in winter, we go clad to meet the inclemencies of the season; and we know how to make ourselves comfortable in our houses. Here your houses are open. The wind comes in through the cracks, and you do not even think of shutting the doors. My people at home would think they would perish, if they had to breakfast with the wind blowing on them, as you have it blowing on you here." In short, I said so much that got one of the doors closed, which I considered a great triumph.

I

Zeek brought our animals to the gate; and I called for my bill. Mr. said it appeared like he ought not to charge me anything; he had been very glad of my company. As I