On May 17, 1863, I called at Dr. Warrener's office on my way to General Veach's office for transportation to Cairo, but designed calling at Island No. 10 and Columbus, Kentucky. The doctor kindly offered to take my papers and get transportation and pass from the provost marshal for me, and allow me to rest the while. I was glad to accept the favor; but he soon returned, rather discouraged, and said, "I think the general rather cross today, and I don't know whether you'll get transportation or not. After reading your papers he asked where you were, and I told him you looked tired and were resting in my office, and I offered to do this errand for her, as it would save her a mile of walk. 'I'd like to see the lady,' he said, as he handed back your papers; and you'll have to go and see him." Here was another narrow place. I took my papers to General Veach in haste, as there was a boat which I was anxious to take going up the river that afternoon. I entered his office and handed him my papers, telling him I hoped to receive the favor of an order for transportation to Cairo, with the privilege of stopping at Island No. 10 and Columbus. He neither asked me a question nor opened my papers, but threw them to his clerk, with directions to give the order. Then he sent it to the quartermaster to fill. On my return I called on the provost-marshal and secured my pass. Said the doctor, "What did the general say?" "Nothing," I answered; "he only looked at me when I gave him my papers, and passed them over to his clerk to make the order." "I think he might just as well have sent them by me; but the general hadn't seen a Union woman for so long, he just wanted to take a look at one." I was soon on the steamer that took me from this city of many exciting scenes. Here I learned the sequel of my Tennessee correspondents, formerly mentioned, and was shown the house where they had both lain dead men. I found on the island many waiting for the remainder of my supplies. The number in camp had now reached about 3,000. I also spent a little time at Fort Pillow, where a company of ex-slaves, thirty-seven in number, had just made their escape from their old home. They had traveled all night to get to our lines. They took two mules and two carts to bring their bundles and little folks. Men, women, and larger children walked twenty-five miles, to get to Fort Pillow. "What time did you start?" I asked one of the tired women. "Early moonrise," was the reply. That was about 11 o'clock P. M., and they had made all possible speed to get to our lines, and seemed very much pleased to get clear of pursuers, as some in their neighborhood had been shot and killed in their attempt to come. The officers took charge of the mules and carts, and sent the people to Island No. 10. Here I took a steamer for Columbus.