All of them claimed to be innocent, and said they were quiet, peaceably-disposed citizens. I went through and back with my escort without being molested, and for three weeks after, I ran the line alone, without being disturbed. The disposition of the Southern people is very much like that of a butcher's Irish bull-dog. The more you try to coax and pet them, the more they will try to bite you; but take a fire-brand and run at them, and they will sneak off as cowardly as can be. The more the Government coaxed and petted the Southern people, the worse they acted. If a favor was extended to them, they would snap and snarl at the hand that held it; but go right at them, with a sword in one hand and a fire-brand in the other, and they cower down directly. So my barbarous threat proved a wholesome remedy. At the expiration of three weeks, General Leggett arrived at Clifton with the 3d Division of the 17th Army Corps, bringing with his command twenty-two hundred head of cattle for beef. The troops now prepared to march across to Georgia, to increase the force operating under General Sherman for the capture of Atlanta. Preparatory to the marching of the troops, General Force sent me out on the road to Florence, to ascertain the locality of Roddy's cavalry--which was known to be hovering around--to prevent any attempt it might make to stampede the cattle. I found out that the cavalry, 4,000 strong, was at Florence, and that Bill Johnson commanded 900 of Roddy's choicest men, and that he--Roddy--had heard of the arrival of the cattle, and had ordered Johnson to be on the alert for an opportunity to stampede them. This I learned from citizens who seemed to be well informed of the intended movements of both forces. Having satisfied myself that the information was reliable, I did not go into Florence, but crossed over to the Nashville and Florence military road, which I came to seven miles from the latter place. I then went toward Lawrenceburg, on my return to my command. Twelve miles from where I came into the road, I halted at a dwelling-house, and said to the man of the house, "Can I get my horse fed, and some supper here?" "Where do you belong?" "I belong to Bill Johnson's cavalry, and I'm going down to look up the Yankee beef-cattle." "Yes, yes; come in. The servant will feed your horse. I hope you'll succeed in finding the cattle." The servants were already engaged in preparing supper for the family. Just before supper was announced, a daughter of the planter came in. I should judge that she was about sixteen years old. "Mother," said she, "what are you doing with that man here?" "He's one of Johnson's men, and he's going down to hunt up the Yankee beef-cattle," was the reply. "Well, you had better watch him, or he'll steal something before he leaves." "Behave yourself, and not insult the man in that way," said the mother.