While passing along the street, looking for an inhabited house, where we might get our meal cooked, we met other three of our comrades, who had gone to the country in quest of provisions, but could get nothing but milk, of which they had their canteens full. We agreed that we would give them a share of our meal for a share of their milk. We then went into a house, in which was a woman with one child. She said her husband was a blacksmith, and that the insurgents had forced him to go with them, to forge their pikes.[3] We told her that we wanted her to make us some porridge, and that she should get a share of it for her trouble. She instantly cleaned her pot, (which was but a small one,) and got it on the fire. We procured some wood for fuel; and, the first pot full being soon made, and poured into a dish to cool, we desired her to make haste and get the second ready, for we were very hungry, and what was in the dish would do little to fill us: we then sat down, all six, to satisfy our hunger. What was in the dish would have been a very scanty meal for three; yet, after we had eagerly swallowed a few spoonfuls, we began to slacken our speed, and (although the milk and porridge were exceedingly good) to swallow them slowly, and with difficulty; and we were all reluctantly compelled to leave off before our little mess was nearly finished, and the poor woman got the remains, and the second pot full for her trouble. We told her, that we would call back next day after parade, to get another meal. On returning to our quarters, we found that our provisions had arrived in our absence; but as we could not know that they were to arrive that night, we felt satisfied with what we had done. We did call back at our cook's next day; and, after taking a little more porridge, desired her to make use of the rest of that meal as she needed it, for that we had now got plenty of other provision, and were not likely to require it. The town and adjacent country were in a most distressing state. Numbers of the cattle were going through the corn-fields, and destroying more than they were eating. The milk-cows were lowing most piteously for want of being milked. And as the town had been more than once in the hands of the insurgents, the alternate movements of the army and the insurgents created always fresh alarm to the peaceable and helpless, who were liable to suffer by every change. The insurgents harassed those who did not join with them; and when the insurgents had to fly, the soldiers harassed those whom they found at home, on pretence that they were friends or favourers of the insurgents: so that it was next to impossible, for even those who were unable to take any part on either side, to escape being involved in the distresses attendant on the quarrel.