We sat down, and but a few minutes elapsed before breakfast was ready, when we were invited to sit up with the family. The Sergeant was seated next to the lady, and I next to him. I had finished my breakfast, and was about shoving back, when the lady of the house said: "_Don't be in a hurry, my dear soldiers; eat all you want_; we have got plenty. You don't know when you will get any thing to eat again." I thanked her, and shoved back. When the Sergeant had finished, she said: "_Now, dear soldiers_, fill your pockets with those nice wheat biscuits. The Lord only knows when you will get any thing more. _How I do pity you!_" The Sergeant declined, but she insisted. "You _must_ take some. As likely as not you won't get any thing again for several days; _do_ take some. Here, take these," (and she began to stuff them into his pockets, which she continued until she had filled them full.) "_There_; how nicely they will relish." "Partner," said I, "we had better be getting back to the woods again, for the Yankees might come along and find us." "Yes," said the lady, "_do be very careful_. Don't let them take you if you can help it, for you don't know how much you might have to suffer. _How glad I am to help you!_" Thanking her for her good wishes and kindness, we proceeded on our way. That lady was a _noble, generous-hearted_ woman, and her eyes sparkled with crystals of sympathy while she was bestowing upon us those little acts of kindness. So full had she filled the Sergeant's pockets with cakes, that they rendered him uncomfortable while walking, and he was obliged to throw part of them away. The next house that we stopped at was occupied by an elderly lady, who, when we entered, was engaged in churning. She invited us to be seated, and then said: "Have you been in the fight?" "Yes, we were in the fight and were captured, and have made our escape." "Dear me! how anxious I do feel about my husband!" "Was he in the fight?" "Yes, he took his gun and went down to help whip the Yankees; I am so afraid that he is killed that I don't know what to do! What a dreadful thing it would be if he should get killed!" We listened to the lady's expressions of anxiety about her husband until the churning was finished, when she gave us some buttermilk to drink, which, with some of our nice wheat cakes, made us an excellent lunch.