the detail, and when we left camp that evening, it was dark and dreary
and drizzling rain. After a while the rain began to come down harder
and harder, and every one of us was wet and drenched to the skin--guns,
cartridges and powder. The next morning about daylight, while standing
videt, I saw a body of twenty-five or thirty Yankees approaching, and I
raised my gun for the purpose of shooting, and pulled down, but the cap
popped. They discovered me and popped three or four caps at me; their
powder was wet also. Before I could get on a fresh cap, Captain Field
came running up with his seven-shooting rifle, and the first fire he
killed a Yankee. They broke and run. Captain Field did all the firing,
but every time he pulled down he brought a Yankee. I have forgotten the
number that he did kill, but if I am not mistaken it was either twenty
or twenty-one, for I remember the incident was in almost every Southern
paper at that time, and the general comments were that one Southern man
was equal to twenty Yankees. While we were in hot pursuit, one truly
brave and magnanimous Yankee, who had been badly wounded, said,
"Gentlemen, you have killed me, but not a hundred yards from here is the
main line." We did not go any further, but halted right there, and after
getting all the information that we could out of the wounded Yankee,
we returned to camp.

One evening, General Robert E. Lee came to our camp. He was a fine-
looking gentleman, and wore a moustache. He was dressed in blue
cottonade and looked like some good boy's grandpa. I felt like going up
to him and saying good evening, Uncle Bob! I am not certain at this late
day that I did not do so. I remember going up mighty close and sitting
there and listening to his conversation with the officers of our
regiment. He had a calm and collected air about him, his voice was kind
and tender, and his eye was as gentle as a dove's. His whole make-up
of form and person, looks and manner had a kind of gentle and soothing