what was called the Iron and Doe mountain. This mountain I would have to cross in order to get into our lines in Tennessee. So after a kind greeting and a wish for God’s speed he parted with me. I have often wished that I could have kept a diary of the names of the people who had befriended me on my journey. How many times have I thought of God’s hand being in my travels. I was instructed to be sure and keep in range of the mountains—that is, the Blue Ridge—and I would be sure to go all right. As I have said before, I had no intention of doing any traveling in the daytime. Thus far it had all been done nights, but after the old man left me and I had got on the Chestnut Ridge I found some of the largest chestnuts that I ever saw in my life. So I thought that I would pick up some of them and carry them along with me, and as I was doing so I heard a man down in the valley calling hogs, and it seemed as though he was looking in the direction I was in. He seemed to be armed with a gun, so I got on the other side of the ridge and hurried along for some distance, when I again stopped where the nuts seemed to be very thick, when I looked up to find the object of my pursuit holding his gun on me and not over thirty rods away. This was the first time that I had been caught in so close a place. I had now got some five or six hundred miles from Florence prison. As soon as I saw the rebel I thought I would run. Then I started to walk very fast, and it seemed that he would soon shoot me, judging from the way he acted. So I turned and spoke to him, and he told me that he reckoned he would have shot me if I had not stopped. We sat on an old log and talked for a long time, and I must say that this was the first time in my life that I ever talked politics, but it seemed as though I never had such power of speech before, for I told this rebel plainly that the South had seceded and rebelled from the best government on earth, and if Jeff Davis was hung that the war would close. The rebel would say the same about our martyred Lincoln, and at last this rebel home guard, or guerilla, told me that I would have to go with him. This seemed hard after having suffered what I had to get away from those rebel hell pens to be taken back. It discouraged me so much that I concluded to die rather than go where he would turn me over to any home guards, for I knew it meant almost certain death to any Yankee to be retaken after trying to get away from prison. Oh, how I plead for him to let me go, and told him no one would ever know except God if he did. I plead as I never plead before in all my life, and shed fountains of tears, but still it seemed all in vain. The rebel told me that he would have to take me to a home guard about four miles distant, and he ordered me to get up and go with him. Now when I saw that my entreaties would not prevail, I concluded that I would get away from him some way or die in the attempt. So I pretended to be very lame and could