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Famous Adventures And Prison Escapes of the Civil War by Various
page 53 of 286 (18%)
it drives me off. Sometimes while I read the bright room fades and a
vision rises of figures clad in gray and blue lying pale and stiff on
the blood-sprinkled ground.

_Nov. 15._--Yesterday a letter was handed me from H. Grant's army was
moving, he wrote, steadily down the Mississippi Central, and might cut
the road at Jackson. He has a house and will meet me in Jackson
to-morrow.

_Nov. 20._ (_Vicksburg._)--A fair morning for my journey back to
Vicksburg. On the train was the gentleman who in New Orleans had told us
we should have all the butter we wanted from Texas. On the cars, as
elsewhere, the question of food alternated with news of the war.

When we ran into the Jackson station, H. was on the platform, and I
gladly learned that we could go right on. A runaway negro, an old man,
ashy-colored from fright and exhaustion, with his hands chained, was
being dragged along by a common-looking man. Just as we started out of
Jackson the conductor led in a young woman sobbing in a heartbroken
manner. Her grief seemed so overpowering, and she was so young and
helpless, that every one was interested. Her husband went into the army
in the opening of the war, just after their marriage, and she had never
heard from him since. After months of weary searching she learned he had
been heard of at Jackson, and came full of hope, but found no clue. The
sudden breaking down of her hope was terrible. The conductor placed her
in care of a gentleman going her way and left her sobbing. At the next
station the conductor came to ask her about her baggage. She raised her
head to try and answer. "Don't cry so; you'll find him yet." She gave a
start, jumped from her seat with arms flung out and eyes staring. "There
he is now!" she cried. Her husband stood before her.
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