On the 13th day of October, 1862, I reported to General Lauman for orders to go out on a scout. I received instructions to take with me a squad of ten men, and reconnoiter thoroughly a strip of country that lay south of Bolivar, between the road to Grand Junction, which would be on my right, and the road to Pocahontas, which would be on my left. I was ordered to kill all the guerrillas that I could find, bring in all that I had strong suspicions were guerrillas, and capture all the straggling rebel soldiers and arms that I could find. The General also told me that he would send out cavalry on my right, on the Grand Junction road, and, on my left, on the Pocahontas road. He did not limit me in time, or the distance to go, nor instruct me to take rations. I have usually, when out as a scout or spy, got my subsistence wherever I went. The men that I selected to accompany me were Sergeants W. G. Downs and Thomas Watson, and eight privates, all of them from the 20th Ohio Infantry. It was nearly noon of the day I received my instructions before we were ready to march. The day was extremely warm, and we made but slow progress. We did not follow any road, but took our way across the fields and woods, and examined all the valleys that lay along our route for any signs that might exist of cavalry or guerrillas. At 5 o'clock in the afternoon, we called at a house about eight miles from Bolivar, which we found to be owned and occupied by a widow lady by the name of Cheshire, who, by the way, is what might be called a Confederate widow. Her husband had belonged to the Confederate army, but had deserted. He came home and took the oath of allegiance, but, unfortunately for him, was captured by the Confederate authorities, and the oath found in his pocket. He was carried back to the rebel army and hung. In my scouts in the Southern Confederacy, I found that _widows_ were of frequent occurrence, and the proportion of them to the population remaining at home was _astonishingly large_. I am inclined to think that many of the ladies chose to call themselves widows, rather than admit to Union soldiers (if they knew them to be such) that their husbands were in the rebel army. I call them all, whether real or professed, that have become such on account of the war, _Confederate widows_. At Mrs. Cheshire's we procured our supper, which was provided and served up by her with a cheerfulness and willingness not characteristic of an enmity to the Federal Government. I offered to pay her, but she positively refused to receive any compensation.