top of the hill commanding a view of the depot and railroad track.  I ran with the rest. “The Yankees! the Yankees!” was the cry.  The firing continued for a few moments, then ceased.  When the smoke cleared away, our own troops could be seen drawn up on the railroad and on the depot platform.  The hill on the opposite side seemed to swarm with Yankees.  Evidently they had expected to surprise the town, but, finding themselves opposed by a force whose numbers they were unable to estimate, they hastily retreated up the hill.  By that time a crowd of impetuous boys had armed themselves and were running down the hill on our side to join the Confederates.  Few men followed (of the citizens), for those who were able had already joined the army.  Those who remained were fully occupied in attending to the women and children.

It was evident that the fight was only delayed.  An attack might be expected at any moment.  An exodus from the town at once began.

Already refugees from all parts of the adjacent country had begun to pour into and pass through, in endless procession and every conceivable and inconceivable style of conveyance, drawn by horses, mules, oxen, and even by a single steer or cow.  Most of these were women and boys, though the faces of young children appeared here and there,—­as it were, “thrown in” among the “plunder,”—­looking pitifully weary and frightened, yet not so heart-broken as the anxious women who knew not where their journey was to end.  Nor had they “where to lay their heads,” some of them having left behind only the smoking ruins of a home, which, though “ever so lowly,” was “the sweetest spot on earth” to them.  McCook, by his unparalleled cruelty, had made his name a horror.

The citizens simply stampeded, “nor stood upon the order of their going.”  There was no time for deliberation.  They could not move goods or chattels, only a few articles of clothing; no room for trunks and boxes.  Every carriage, wagon, and cart was loaded down with human freight; every saddle-horse was in demand.  All the negroes from the hospital as well as those belonging to the citizens were removed at once to a safe distance.  These poor creatures were as much frightened as anybody and as glad to get away.  Droves of cattle and sheep were driven out on the run, lowing and bleating their indignant remonstrance.

While the citizens were thus occupied, the surgeons in charge of hospitals were not less busy, though far more collected and methodical.  Dr. McAllister, of the “Buckner,” and Dr. S.M.  Bemiss, of the “Bragg,” were both brave, cool, executive men.  Their self-possession, their firm, steady grasp of the reins of authority simplified matters greatly.  Only those unable to bear arms were left in the wards.  Convalescents would have resented and probably disobeyed an order to remain.  Not only were they actuated by the brave spirit of Southern soldiers, but they preferred anything to remaining to be captured,—­better far death than the horrors of a Northern prison.  So all quietly presented themselves, and, with assistant-surgeons, druggists, and hospital attendants, were armed, officered, and marched off to recruit the regiment before mentioned.