He surveyed us carefully for a few seconds, and then said: "Yes; I bleav you is Yankees." He paused a second, and added: "Yes, I know you is." I asked him how he knew it, and he said that we neither looked nor talked like their men.

I then acknowledged that we were Yankee prisoners, trying to make our escape to our lines.

This announcement put new life into the old lady, and, after satisfying herself that we were really Yankees, she got up from her seat, shook hands with us, and declared we must have a better supper than we had had.

She set immediately about preparing it for us.

Taking up a plank in the floor, she pulled out a nice flitch of bacon, from which she cut as much as we could eat, and gave us some to carry with us.