Page:Memoirs of Henry Villard, volume 1.djvu/335

the scanty army fare we brought along. Notwithstanding the insufficient food, the troops bore the hardships of the long march — there was an average of about one hundred and eighty-five miles made by them between Nashville and Louisville — remarkably well. There was considerable straggling in search of food, but the percentage of footsore and sick was low. We were favored by magnificent fall weather, moderately warm during the day and not too cool at night. When within ten miles of Louisville, I rode ahead of the division over the familiar highway and drew up in front of the Galt House at 10 P.M. on September 27. The old night clerk was at his post, but he did not recognize me with my dust-begrimed countenance and full-grown beard, and, evidently distrusting my general vagabondish appearance, replied to my application for a room: “We are all full.” But he changed his tone at once when I mentioned my name, and had me escorted to a good bed room on the top floor. My trunks were sent up — nearly eight months had gone by since I had locked them — and I once more enjoyed the long-missed luxury of a choice of under- and upperwear. It was high time that I did, for my Memphis outfit was fast giving out, and I had not been out of my dust-crusted clothes for ten days. My first indulgence was a hot bath, and the next a hearty supper, followed by eleven hours' sleep.