Etowah Bridge, Saturday, Oct. 15. Called out at 4 A. M. to go a-foraging. Went out on the Canton road about fifteen miles through broken country such as middle Georgia affords. Only about one-tenth of this area tillable land. Loaded up in small pockets. Our wagon capsized so we barely got off with half a load. On our way back the rebs hung in our rear, but did not molest us. Reached camp 9 P. M., hungry as a wolf. Found our shebangs all torn down and new quarters started.
