I would not be understood as saying that the boys did not confiscate things that were not included in the Government ration. Not at all. They relished extra dishes--such as ham and eggs, butter for their flapjacks, and milk for their coffee, and wherever they found supplies of this kind they foraged them. But the Yankees showed a good deal of discrimination. When they found a dyed-in-the-wool rebel who had a goodly store of provisions, they confiscated what they needed, but in cases where the supply was scant and the farm was worked by the women and darkies, the boys admonished one another to go slow, and only a small percentage of the crop was taken into camp. A foraging party went out to a plantation about a mile from the road on which our column was moving. We saw the planter's house on a gentle rise of ground, surrounded by magnificent shade trees. Everything about the place indicated that the proprietor belonged to the F. F. V.'s. As we rode up the broad avenue leading from the front gate to the residence, the sergeant in charge of the party said: “Boys, we've struck it rich. There must be something good to eat here.” Seated in an armchair on the broad piazza was the “lord of the manor,” his eyes fairly snapping with the hatred he could not conceal for the visitors. He was full threescore years and ten. His long white hair hung down upon his shoulders, and served to heighten the color in his cheeks--and the beet red of his nose. The planter arose at our approach, and demanded: “To what am I indebted for this visit?” “Firing on the old flag at Fort Sumter, primarily,” replied the sergeant, who seemed to enjoy the old Virginian's hostile attitude. “But, sir, I did not fire on Sumter!” “No? Then you're a Union man, I take it?” “No, sir! I'm a Virginian, loyal to my State and to the Confederacy. If I were able to bears arms I should be in Lee's army to-day, fighting the vandal horde that has invaded the sacred soil. Sir, we are enemies!” “I am sorry to hear you say that. If you were a Union man you could get pay for the forage we were sent to secure. But as you are a sworn enemy of the United States of America we will be obliged to confiscate some of your corn and other supplies.” “I knew you were a band of robbers when you rode through my gate. The Northern mudsills make war on private citizens and rob them by force of arms.” “It's the fortunes of war.” “You may call it war. We of the South call it the unholy attempt to subjugate freemen--to destroy the sovereignty of the States. But Abe Lincoln with all his vandal horde will never conquer the South!” “Well, stick to your State's rights, old man; but in the meantime we must have corn for our horses to brace them up so's we can ride into Richmond and hang old Jeff Davis----” “Jeff Davis! He's a saint, sir, when compared with your negro-loving railsplitter in the White House!” “All right; I don't propose to quarrel with you. Please show us where the corn can be found.”