If I had uttered a word against the South at that time I would have been hung to the first limb. The Negroes were excited and scared nearly to death. Some one would set a house on fire and accuse a Negro of the crime, and arrest the first one he came across, taking him out and hanging him. I saw two hung in this manner. The next morning I said quietly to Mr. Clark, “I believe I will go back to East Tennessee.” “All right,” he said. I had, I think, the best saddle horse in the State; he was a fox trotter, only three years old, and his gait was smooth and easy. I bid Mr. Clark good-day, and started on my journey. The farther I got from Spartanburg, the better I felt. I believe I rode sixty-two miles from early in the morning until dark. It seemed to me that the horse was a Union animal, for he “pulled for the shore.” I never put a spur or whip to his flesh. I was young, and will confess I was afraid the rebels were after me. When I reached the top of the Blue Ridge, I looked back and it seemed to me that I could see the smoke of war. I then turned my face toward East Tennessee, and imagined I could see peace and harmony. I looked to my right and could see the Holston and Watauga Rivers running down through the valleys of East Tennessee, and the people going about their daily avocations; and next was the Nola Chucky, where I was born, with her beautiful bottom lands extending for miles. Next came the French Broad, on the banks of which I was raised. Next was the Big Pigeon, which was made from the little streams gushing from the Great Smoky Mountain and the North Carolina Mountains. I imagined I could see all these rivers making their way in peace to the Tennessee River, which emptied into the Ohio above its junction with the great Mississippi. I did not think at that time that there were preparations being made by the North and the South for the greatest war that was ever fought in the world. After I had rested on the top of this mountain, I continued my journey down through a part of North Carolina to Paint Rock, and then into East Tennessee. When I arrived at Newport, Cocke County, I found the people making preparations to sow wheat. I remember on my way from South Carolina I came to a farm on the banks of the French Broad. The men were plowing, some with mules, some with horses and others with yokes of oxen, turning over the land. They knew me, and asked how I had come out with my hogs, and how the times were over in South Carolina. I said, “H— is to pay over there; they are fixing for war.” They asked me who they were going to fight. “The Yankees,” I said. I told them that Fort Sumter had been fired upon. They asked me where Fort Sumter was. You see that the people in that locality had never heard of war, but in a short time they began talking about secession. CHAPTER II.