I did not eat any rat.

It was my first and last effort to eat dead rats.
SWIMMING THE TENNESSEE WITH ROASTINGEARS The Tennessee river is about a quarter of a mile wide at Chattanooga.
Right across the river was an immense corn-field.

The green corn was waving with every little breeze that passed; the tassels were bowing and nodding their heads; the pollen was flying across the river like little snowdrops, and everything seemed to say, "Come hither, Johnny Reb; come hither, Johnny; come hither." The river was wide, but we were hungry.

The roastingears looked tempting.

We pulled off our clothes and launched into the turbid stream, and were soon on the other bank.
Here was the field, and here were the roastingears; but where was the raft or canoe?
We thought of old Abraham and Isaac and the sacrifice: "My son, gather the roastingears, there will be a way provided." We gathered the roastingears; we went back and gathered more roastingears, time and again.