The question is often asked, Where does the ammunition come from to supply the Southern army?  I would state in reply, that with the cargoes of arms, ammunition was supplied, at the rate of a thousand rounds for each gun.  While engaged in the Ordnance Department, I often issued boxes of ammunition, which were put up in London for the Enfield rifle.  The fixed ammunition of England is said by Southern officers to be the finest in the world.  But much was also made at home.  The largest laboratory for making cartridges, of which I had any knowledge, was in Memphis, afterward removed to Grenada, Mississippi.  Powder-mills were established at various points, one of the largest at Dahlonega, Georgia; and old saltpeter caves were opened, the government offering forty-five cents per pound for saltpeter, and exempting all persons employed in its manufacture from military duty.  Percussion caps were made in Richmond early in 1861, and great numbers were smuggled through the lines, in the early part of the war.  As to the supply of ammunition, my opinion is, that the South will not lack while the rebellion lasts.

On the 17th of December, I left Camp Beauregard with a car-load of ammunition, attached to a train of twenty-five box-cars, containing the 27th Tennessee regiment, Colonel Kit Williams commanding, for Bowling Green, where a battle was expected.  Colonel Williams’ orders were, to go through with all possible dispatch.  Here was a new field for observation to me, and one of great interest.  As soon as I saw my special charge, the car of ordnance, all right, I doffed my uniform for a fatigue dress, and took my position with the engineer, determined to learn all I could of the management of the locomotive.  The knowledge I acquired pretty nearly cost me my life, as will soon be seen,—­a new illustration that “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.”

We left Feliciana in the morning, and ran down the New Orleans and Ohio railroad to Union City, 18 miles, thence on the Mobile and Ohio road to Humboldt, which we reached by five o’clock in the evening.  It had now grown dusk.  During this time, I had mastered the working of the engine, when all was in good order; had noted the amount of steam necessary to run the train, the uses of the various parts of the engine, and had actually had the handling of the locomotive much of the way.  When we reached Humboldt, where we took the Memphis and Clarksville railroad for Paris and Bowling Green, the engineer, Charles Little, refused to run the train on during the night, as he was not well acquainted with the road, and thought it dangerous.  In addition, the head-light of the locomotive being out of order, and the oil frozen, he could not make it burn, and he could not possibly run without it.  Colonel Williams grew angry, probably suspecting him of Union sentiments, and of wishing to delay the train, cursed him rather roundly, and at length told him he should run it under a guard; adding, to the guard already on the engine, “If