He was a small-sized man, with a large, long set of black whiskers.

He was the captain, and I the corporal of the detail.

We were ordered to take a company of the Georgia militia on a scout.

We went away around to our extreme right wing, passing through Terry's mill pond, and over the old battlefield of the 22nd, and past the place where General Walker fell, when we came across two ladies.

One of them kept going from one tree to another, and saying: "This pine tree, that pine tree; this pine tree, that pine tree." In answer to our inquiry, they informed us that the young woman's husband was killed on the 22nd, and had been buried under a pine tree, and she was nearly crazy because she could not find his dead body.