the 23rd of September our battery crossed the Tennessee at Loudon by the aid of a single flat boat large enough to take over only one team and carriage at a time. It took all day and most of the night to effect the crossing. Soon after crossing, we took up the march for Sweetwater, a station sixteen miles south from Loudon, on the east Tennessee and Georgia railroad. We had no sooner arrived at Sweetwater than we were ordered to countermarch, and away we went back to Loudon. On our arrival there, we were ordered into a rebel fort to the right of the village facing south. This hill was in a bend of the river. A pontoon bridge had been laid across the river and troops of all arms were continually crossing to the south bank. There strong lines of battle were formed, and in expectation of a severe conflict, we awaited the approach of General Forrest, who was steadily driving back our cavalry and mounted infantry upon Loudon. We were all anxious for a brush with the famous General Forrest, and had he assailed our position he would have met with a hot reception. This was the 28th of September, 1863.

Forrest was reported to be advancing with a large mounted force, estimated by citizens and negroes from 3,000 to 15,000 men. We supposed that on the morning of the 29th we would have a royal battle on the banks of the Tennessee. But day dawned and no attack was delivered, and soon word came from our mounted force that Forrest had commenced his retreat down the valley during the night, while we were watering and feeding our horses and mules and inspecting ammunition. From October 1st to the 5th, we were busy collecting forage. In our wagons, and carefully covered by the forage, were carcasses of hogs and sheep. Our company cooks served up rations which could only be fully appreciated by eating. Men, horses and mules were growing fat, sleek and handsome.

On the 6th of October, we received orders to report to our first division of the Ninth Army Corps at Blue Springs, in the valley of the Holston, distant about ninety-eight miles from Loudon. The enemy were reported to be threatening our communications with Cumberland Gap, and the Ninth Corps had been ordered to prevent all interference with this line. The infantry were transported by rail, but the battery was sent forward on foot. In order that the battery should arrive as soon as possible after the infantry it was forced along at the rate of about thirty miles per day. We found the roads in very fair condition. At dark, on the 9th, we arrived at Bull Gap, a gorge in one of those spur ranges of mountains that extend out from the main chain, and which, at a distance, resembles somewhat a large windrow of hay. On the next day we passed through the gap and soon came up with our division, posted in lines of battle along Lick Creek.

Our arrival was duly reported and we were ordered to hold ourselves ready to take position and open upon the enemy. Here we found General Burnside, and he gave us a hearty greeting, calling us his Rhode Island boys. We responded sincerely and vociferously. Soon after this the general gave the order for our line to advance, as the enemy made no diversion against us. Someone facetiously said that probably the general had waited for our battery before he ordered the attack. We replied to such remarks by retorting that this showed the general's good judgment. A Colonel Foster was in command of a brigade of cavalry, and General Burnside sent him around by the enemy's right flank to seize and hold his lines of retreat. As soon as it was probable that Colonel Foster had reached the desired position, a charge was made upon the enemy's position. A sharp and hotly contested fight ensued. We drove the enemy from his position about dark. We here formed a new line and lay upon our arms for a renewal of the fight at dawn. The advance was duly made, but the enemy had fled, and Colonel Foster, as it usually happens in such cases, had not got into position to intercept them. Our battery had been in position all day, but was not called upon at all until about dark to fire a few shots at a battery of the enemy that soon withdrew. We pursued the enemy twenty miles up the valley. At noon, we passed through the village of Greenville, and read the sign over a building, with the simple legend, "A. Johnson, Tailor." A mile beyond Rhea Town we went into camp. On the 12th, the cavalry reported the enemy to be so scattered that further pursuit was useless. On the next day, we started back for Knoxville, and arrived there on the 16th of October, 1863. From Loudon to Rhea Town, and from Rhea Town to Knoxville, made a distance of 226 miles, a daily average of a little more than 22 miles. For two days we lay at Knoxville.

On the 20th, we marched again for Loudon. We camped that night at Campbell's Station, seventeen miles from Knoxville. We next encamped at Lenoir's Station. This was a very large plantation owned by a Dr. Lenoir. Its lands were very extensive and beautifully situated. The village consisted of a railroad station, the owner's mansion, large farm buildings, yarn factory, houses for overseers and a hundred or more cabins for his slaves. He, the doctor, was a large slave owner, and a violent rebel. He had extensive fields of maize; one of which was estimated to be four miles in length. The width was considerably less. Most of the corn was as high as a man could reach on horseback.

On October 22nd, we marched to Loudon and crossed the river. The village of Loudon is on the left bank of the Tennessee. Soon after the retreat of General Forrest, referred to above, the writer was detailed to open a recruiting office in the village of Loudon, as our several batteries were all short of men. I duly opened the office in a small building contiguous to a hotel owned by a Mr. Hoss, called by our men "The old hoss." I had two men with me, one a corporal, I appointed clerk; the other man acted as guard and orderly. Handbills were printed and distributed in the vicinity, and on the morning of the second day, as I looked out of the office, I had an idea that a large squadron of cavalry was drawn up before the hotel. The men were thin and lanky, also their horses were the same. All carried guns, some double barrel shotguns; some ancient rifles, and a few modern carbines. I remained in my office, and soon two of the riders dismounted and presented themselves before the guard, who, with drawn saber and revolver in belt, upheld the dignity of the United States Government in the eyes of these horsemen. The United States flag was duly floating in the morning air, and all around were nailed the handbills asking for recruits for the U. S. Volunteer Military service. The men who dismounted represented the whole squad. They inquired of the guard if they could "jine" the Union army, and the guard referred them to me for an answer. They came inside and said "Howdy." I responded by a dignified nod of the head. I at once entered upon business, and told them the conditions upon which they could become Uncle Samuel's volunteer soldiers. I stated that I would call a surgeon in order to ascertain if they were physically qualified to enlist. I asked them what they proposed to do with their horses, suggesting that if they were serviceable, they would be bought for our service. They then said that they came from the mountains that lay partly in North Carolina and partly in Tennessee; that they wanted to keep their horses and go home upon them once a week. I explained that if they enlisted in our service they could go home only at times when furloughs might be granted them, and that meantime they would be expected to be in camp or with their commands at all times, day and