At the place where we lodged that night I first heard a slave-holder talk of hunting negroes with blood-hounds. In conversation after supper our host said to us, as a mere matter of news, "I saw some persons dodging about the back of the plantation just as it was getting dark, and in the morning I will take the hounds and go out and hunt them up. I will be glad to have you go along and see the sport, if you can afford the time. If they prove to be negroes I will make something." "What will you do with them?" I asked. "Oh, turn them over to the authorities and get the reward," was the answer. "I have caught a considerable number, and it pays to keep on the lookout." Of course we had to agree outwardly; but the idea of hunting human beings with the ferocious-looking dogs we had seen about his door, and that for money, thrilled me with detestation and horror. Soon afterwards we found that blood-hounds were not kept for negroes alone. After a sound night's rest we continued our journey, and were fortunate enough to find a man who was willing, for the good of the Confederacy, and for an extravagant price in money, to give us a short ride. The conveyance was an old wagon, with a wood-rack for a bed, four mules, with a scanty chain harness, ropes for bridles and lines, a driver black as ebony, who rode the lead mule, with a straw bag for a saddle, and flourished a fine black-snake whip,--the latter the only really good article in the whole "turnout." Seven or eight of our party were now together, and we rattled merrily over the stony road, holding on to the sides of the old wood-rack, and agreeing that this was much better than walking. About the middle of the forenoon we came in sight of the Cumberland Mountains. It was now Wednesday, our second day outside of our own lines. Never have I beheld more beautiful scenery. For a short time the rain ceased to fall and the air became clear. The mountains shone in the freshest green, and about their tops clung a soft, shadowy mist, gradually descending lower, and shrouding one after another of the spurs and high mountain valleys from view. But the beautiful scene did not long continue. Soon the mist deepened into cloud, and the interminable rain began again to fall. To add to our discontent, our wagon could go no farther, and we once more waded in the mud. At noon we found a dinner of the coarsest fare at a miserable one-roomed hut. One of our men, not belonging, however, to the squad I usually travelled with, managed to get possession of a bottle of apple-brandy, which he used so freely as to become very talkative. He was placed between two others, who kept him from all communication with strangers, and walked him rapidly on until he became sober. This was the only instance of such dangerous imprudence in the whole journey.