Carpenter's, and march through the cedars, and cross Duck river at Davis' ferry, on pontoon bridges, near Lowell's mill.

We pass on, and cross Rutherford creek, near Burick's mill, about three o'clock in the afternoon.

We had marched through fields in the heavy mud, and the men, weary and worn out, were just dragging themselves along, passing by the old Union Seminary, and then by Mr.Fred Thompson's, until we came to the Rally Hill turnpike-- it being then nearly dark--we heard some skirmishing, but, exhausted as we were, we went into bivouac.

The Yankees, it seems to me, might have captured the whole of us.

But that is a matter of history.