“But yer ax me about close places. Wall, et warn’t allers a honeymoon. I b’lieves ’twuz in ’63, ennyway we wuz holdin’ back Gin’ral Blair’s corps, an’ Marse Josiah sont me through de enemy ter git ’im er new uniform. Bein’ a nigger, uv co’se I cud pass off fer ennything. I hed dem clo’es an’ wuz steppin th’u’ de ranks all right, when I run splank-dab up agin a reg’ment uv Yankees. I hed de good sense ter th’ow Colonel Josiah’s fine cloes ober in er thicket, an’ ’tend lak I wuz a Union nigger gwine ter meetin. Sez de colonel: “‘You damned pair uv brackets, whar yer gwine?’ “‘Gwine ter meetin’, boss,’ sez I. “‘Wall, we’re needin’ a teamster right now more’n you need salvation, so I guess we’ll get you to team a little for us.’ “‘Boss, I cain’t drive er waggin,’ sez I. “‘Yer cain’t? Wal, we’ll call up er drumhead cote martial in de mawnin’ an’ see erbout it. Yer knows whut dat means, don’t yer?’ “‘Boss,’ sez I, ‘dat’ll jes fetch on mo’ talkin’ an’ sputin, so I’ll do de bes’ I kin ter drive er team.’ “I noticed de colonel wuz mounted on be finest black hoss I hed eber seen, an’ ez dey hed treated me so bad, I concluded den an’ dar I’d swap fer ’im. Dat night dey tuck me to haidquarters an’ made me sleep jes’ outside de colonel’s tent. I’d seed whar dey hed tethered de hoss down by de fence, so ’bout ’leben o’clock, I laid out by de tent, jes outside, and made lak I’d gone ter sleep. When all wuz quiet, I run my han’ under de tent an’ pulled ez easy ez I cud, twell I pulled out de colonel’s bridle. Den I pulled er little at er time twell I got de saddle and holsters, pistols an’ all. I slipped ’em off, put ’em on dat hoss, struck up de crick so ez ter keep frum bringin’ on enny furder talk wid de pickets, an’ I rid dat hoss inter camp, twenty odd miles away, in jes two hours. O, he wuz er dandy, saddle an’ all. Marse Josiah rid dat hoss mouty nigh two years, but I kep’ on a-swappin’. “But de funnies’ thing happened down in Mississippi whilst we wuz fightin’ Sherman ’roun’ Jackson. Dar wuz er nigger dar named Torm. Torm, he wuz de body-servant ob de colonel ob er Tennessee reg’ment, an’ hed er mighty rep fer bein’ de bes’ furrager in camp. I didn’ ’fess ter bein’ much uv er furrager, but I know Torm cudn’ hold er candle ter me. Marse Josiah ’u’d laff an’ say: [Illustration: The Forks and the famous old home of Jas. Jackson. He imported Glencoe and owned many famous racers.] “‘When Rube goes er-furragin’ you’d think we’d done struck de valley ob de Nile.’ “Wal, Sherman wuz keepin’ us purty hot, an’ grub wuz hard ter fin’. In our marchin’ one day I seed a mighty fine mud-lark ober in a farmer’s orchard. “What’s a mud-lark,” I asked.