It required only a short time to raise a large company of women, girls and little boys, who were ready to do service for themselves and their country by digging lead with case-knives from mines providentially furnished them. And was it not serving the cause of the Confederacy? I thought so; and never walked with more independent step than when acting as generalissimo of that band of devoted, patriotic women, _en route_ to the "lead mines" around Atlanta. Telitha, too, evidently felt that she was an important adjunct in the mining enterprise, and a conspicuous personage in the scenes being enacted, and emphasized her opinion by strong and suggestive gesticulation. On this occasion she playfully wrenched from my hand the small vessel with which I had supplied myself and which I carried on the former trip, and substituted a larger one, while for herself she got at least a half-bushel measure.
All who remember the month of December, 1864, know that it abounded in clouds and rain and sleet, and was intensely cold in the Confederate States of America; and in the latitude embracing Atlanta, such severity of weather had never been known to the oldest inhabitant. But what mattered it? Each one in that little band of women was connected by a bright link to the illustrious armies that were enduring greater privation and hardship than those to which she was exposed, and counted it a willing oblation upon his country's altar, and why should she not prove faithful to the end, and suffer the pangs of hunger and privation too?
The work of picking up minie balls began as soon as we reached the battle-field, and, consequently, we carried several pounds some distance unnecessarily. The "mine" proper, I doubt not, could have filled several wagons. As "a little fun now and then is relished by the wisest men," I found a grim smile asserting itself at the quaint and ready wit of those estimable girls, the Misses Morton, whose Christian names I have forgotten and who, alas! have long since joined the silent majority. One of them assumed the character of a Confederate soldier and the other that of a Federal, and the conversation carried on between them, as they "exchanged coffee and tobacco," was rich, rare and racy. The exchange having been effected, the signal of combat was given. "Look out, Billy Yank!" "Look out, Johnnie Reb!" were simultaneous warnings from opposing forces, and minie balls whizzed through the air, much to the merriment of the little boys who wished themselves men, that they might be with their fathers, whizzing minie balls from musket mouths.