None of our regiment got a Whitworth, but it has been subsequently developed that our regiment had some of the finest shots in it the world ever produced. For instance, George and Mack Campbell, of Maury county; Billy Watkins, of Nashville, and Colonel H. R. Field, and many others, who I cannot now recall to mind in this rapid sketch.
UNCLE ZACK AND AUNT DAPHNE.
While at this place, I went out one day to hunt some one to wash my clothes for me. I never was a good washerwoman. I could cook, bring water and cut wood, but never was much on the wash. In fact, it was an uphill business for me to wash up "the things" after "grub time" in our mess.
I took my clothes and started out, and soon came to a little old negro hut. I went in and says to an old negress, "Aunty, I would like for you to do a little washing for me." The old creature was glad to get it, as I agreed to pay her what it was worth. Her name was Aunt Daphne, and if she had been a politician, she would have been a success. I do not remember of a more fluent "conversationalist" in my life. Her tongue seemed to be on a balance, and both ends were trying to out-talk the other—but she was a good woman. Her husband was named Uncle Zack, and was the exact counterpart of Aunt Daphne. He always sat in the chimney corner, his feet in the ashes, and generally fast asleep, I am certain I never saw an uglier or more baboonish face in my life, but Uncle Zack was a good Christian, and I would sometimes wake him up to hear him talk Christian.
He said that when he "fessed 'ligin, de debil come dare one nite, and say, 'Zack, come go wid me,' and den de debil tek me to hell, and jes stretch a wire across hell, and hang me up jes same like aside of bacon, through the tongue. Well, dar I hang like de bacon, and de grease kept droppin' down, and would blaze up al]’round me. I jes stay dar and burn; and after while de debil come 'round wid his gun, and say, 'Zack, I gwine to shoot you,' and jes as he raise de gun, I jes jerk loose from dat wire, and I jes fly to heben."
