fought a few days before, and another attack was-daily threatened. The driver and brother Reed were doubting the propriety of crossing the river. "For if the lines are closed," they said, "the President himself would not be permitted to pass." But I told them as they did not positively know that the lines were closed, we had better cross. "It is your load, and if you say go we shall go," said brother Reed. "I say go," was my decision. Soon we were in front of the provost marshal's office. But he was not there, and no one knew where he was. After a long search, in accordance with my plea, some of the guards discovered and brought him back, reeling, with his head of long hair thoroughly decorated with feathers and straws. I met him in his office and read to him my papers, holding, them before his face as I would exhibit a picture to a two-year old baby. After explaining all, I made my request to pass his lines with my load of supplies. "Who--who's there?" I told him who he was that so kindly offered to aid me in disbursing these supplies just as I was starting; and that a general advised me to take him with my load, as he would pass him, if in command. "Well, well, I don'--don't--li-like--this--whole--whole-sa-sale business." But I pleaded for those suffering women and children with all the politeness I was capable of mastering, with disgust boiling over. With stuttering and mumbling his dislikes, and shaking his head, with the feathers and straws waving and nodding in every direction, he took his pen and scribbled a pass that was difficult to decipher. The next line of guards hardly knew what to do with it until I told them the provost marshal was drunk. "O, yes, and it's no new trick; go on." And without further difficulty we reached the group of sufferers, who were shivering as if in an ague fit. I threw to each family two blankets or quilts, and more than forty children were crawling between them within three minutes. I gave to each of those twenty women a suit of men's clothing that day to help them out of this intense suffering. I gave them also three rag-carpet blankets out of the four that were sent me by a woman who took up a new rag-carpet she had just put down, and cut it into four pieces after listening to the recital of the great suffering in these camps. She said she should put no more carpets on her floor as long as the war lasted.