Vicksburg, Monday, Sept. 7. To break the monotony of camp, Evie and myself obtained permission to go outside the lines. We mounted our steeds and passed through a port hole in the line to evade the guards, as we had no pass. We rode out about three miles before we saw a house.
House No. 1, stopped to get a drink; three women, no men around. She had lost four cows and wanted to know who stole them, suspected a one legged nigger, she “would be dagged if she wouldn’t cut off his other leg.”
House No. 2. We were looking for horses, examined one tied at the door. “The old woman came out haggling, excited, claiming protection by her papers. We told her it was all right and rode on, leaving her to hate the Yankees.
House No. 3. Two fine looking young ladies there. Inquired for milk to drink. A little black girl brought us some buttermilk—good, tasted like home. Gave the blushing Confederate miss a quarter and left.
House No. 4. Examined a negro, pretending him to be a suspicious character, but finally concluded he was all right. Pound plenty of nice tomatoes in the old secesh camp growing wild. Picked lots of muskatines and grapes, and returned via old position. Arrived in camp 3 P. M. tired but well pleased with our adventure. Company had received marching orders.
