The sick -- except those who were manifestly dying--were loaded into wagons and hauled over.

The dying were left to their fate, without any companions or nurses.
The train started off in a northeasterly direction, and as we went through Florence the skies were crimson with great fires, burning in all directions.

We were told these were cotton and military stores being destroyed in anticipation of a visit from, a part of Sherman's forces.
When morning came we were still running in the same direction that we started.

In the confusion of loading us upon the cars the previous evening, I had been allowed to approach too near a Rebel officer's stock of rations, and the result was his being the loser and myself the gainer of a canteen filled with fairly good molasses.

Andrews and I had some corn bread, and we, breakfasted sumptuously upon it and the molasses, which was certainly none-the-less sweet from having been stolen.
Our meal over, we began reconnoitering, as much for employment as anything else.