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Union raid at master’s farm.

During the time the Union headquarters were at Helena, a Union gun-boat came down the river as far as Boliva, and stopped at Miles McGee’s.  The soldiers made a raid through the farm, taking chickens, turkeys, meat and everything that they could lay hands on.  During this raid Miles McGee came out of the house with a gun, and shot the commanding officer of the party.  He became alarmed over what he had done, and hid in the cabin of one of the servants.  He never came near the house.  The Union soldiers came three different times to catch him, but never succeeded.  The last time they came, he made for the canebrake, and hid himself there until they were gone.  But though he had escaped their righteous vengeance, he became so nervous that he left his hiding place in the canebraker, and went to Atlanta, Ga., and staid there among friends until things became more quiet.  At last wearying of this, he determined to return to old Master Jack’s, but not to his own home.  Word had been received of his coming, and great preparations were made for his reception.  After he had started on his return, he was taken ill on the train, and was left at a small town called Jackson, where he soon died.  I drove the family to the depot upon the day of his expected arrival, and as the train came in, the women waved their handkerchiefs; and, when the conductor stepped off, they asked him if Mr. McGee was aboard.  He said no—­“I have his remains.”  The scene that followed, I can not describe—­such wailing and screaming!  I could not but feel sad, even though they had treated me so meanly, causing the death of my children, and separating me from my wife.  Their grief was indeed great.  The sad news was conveyed to his mother, old Mrs. Jack McGee, at the house by an advance messenger, and we soon followed with the body.  He was the favorite son of his mother, and her grief was very great.  But for his wanton shooting of the Union officer, he would probably not have met his death as he did.

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Union soldiers pass the Panola home.

One winter night, while I was at old Master Jack’s, I was awakened by a rumbling noise like that of heavy wagons, which continued steadily and so long a time that I finally concluded it must be an army passing, and such I found to be the case, upon getting up and venturing out, the rumbling which had awakened me being caused by the passing artillery.  I was afraid to go out straight to the soldiers, but would take a few steps at a time, then stop and listen behind a tree or the shrubbery.  All seemed quiet—­there was no talking.  I had listened about twenty minutes when there seemed to be a halt at the creek, some distance from the house.  Soon afterwords I heard the command given:  “Forward!” I at once made up my mind that they were Yankee soldiers.  I got