Secrets of the Late Rebellion

The two following days Lord Brewerton spent in New York attending to various business matters, and on the third day he and Mr. McLane went together to Baltimore. At Philadelphia Mr. C. C. Pollard joined them. At Baltimore they met Colonel Ralph Abercrombie, who chanced to be in Washington at the time, and who had been telegraphed for, through Major Weightman, to meet them at Baltimore. That night and the following day were spent in consultations with Messrs. Thomas, Grundy, Wilson, and others. In the evening McLane and Pollard returned to New York, while Lord Brewerton and Colonel Abercrombie went to Washington. They walked from the depot direct to Ben Beveridge's, where a scene occurred which is difficult to put upon canvas – a scene much easier imagined than described. When the two came into the saloon Ben was absorbed in conversation with some gentlemen, and did not see them enter. The Colonel, desiring to attract Ben's attention without calling upon himself the attention of others, stepped up to the bar and asked for "Bourben whiskey," putting special emphasis on the word Bourben, as this was the Confederate password which had been agreed upon between him and Ben. The clerk behind the bar sat a bottle of Bourbon whiskey upon the marble counter for the Colonel to help himself; but still Ben did not come up, and kept on chatting and laughing with his friends. The Colonel, determining to attract his attention, put the glass to his lips, and then, with an oath loud enough to wake the dead, smashed the glass into a thousand pieces on the marble counter, and declared that such BOURBEN as that was not fit for a dog to drink. Of course, Ben rushed to the counter to see who had dared commit such an outrage in his saloon; the Lord shrank back aghast, as though an earthquake was about to open under his feet; some Indians who chanced to be in the saloon at the time became very much excited and seemed about to raise a war-whoop, and, for a moment, confusion worse confounded prevailed; but so soon as Ben recognized the Colonel he comprehended the whole situation, acknowledged that his clerk had made a mistake in setting out some other bottle than "Bourben," made a thousand apologies for the mistake, and then, in a tone as mild as that of a sucking-dove, invited the Colonel and his friend "John" into a side room, where they might take a drink alone by themselves. The outsiders had been completely hoodwinked, while the insiders had a hearty laugh all to themselves over the incident and its happy ending. Major Weightman was then sent for, and when he came he and Lord Brewerton had a conference of some hours. When this had ended, a cab was called, and Lord Brewerton was driven direct to the residence of the British Minister, Lord Lyons, while the Colonel was driven to his sister's (Mrs. Professor Joseph H. Saxton), on Capitol Hill.

Lord Brewerton remained with Lord Lyons some days, and then returned to New York, with the expectation of returning at once to England; but, on reaching there, he found a cablegram awaiting him which required his immediate return to Washington to see Lord Lyons, and, if possible, to make his way from thence to Richmond, to see President Davis. He accordingly returned next day to Washington, saw the British Minister, saw Colonel Abercrombie, and finally succeeded in making arrangements with the latter for an overland trip to Richmond. The Colonel explained to him the hardships which he would have to endure in making the trip overland, and tried hard to persuade him to return to New York and go by the way of Nassau; but Lord Brewerton insisted that he could stand the hardships, and would much prefer it to a trip by sea. He was at this time about fifty years of age, a gentleman of high mental culture, of elegant manners, had spent all his life in the very highest walks of society, and had not probably ever endured one hour of real hardship; but his health was good, and he thought he would rather enjoy, than otherwise, the hardships of which the Colonel spoke. At all events, he insisted upon trying it, and so the matter was finally agreed upon.

Next night, about ten o'clock, Major Weightman and Colonel Abercrombie left Ben Beveridge's saloon in a close carriage; called at the English embassy for Lord Brewerton; then on to Thecker's, in Georgetown, where Ben was waiting with the disguises. Here, under Ben's skilful hands, Lord Brewerton underwent a complete transmogrification. His mutton-chop whiskers were cut off; his hair chipped and hacked as though done with a broad-axe; his fashionable suit laid aside, and a rough farmer's suit substituted; in place of his fine patent leather boots, a pair of negro clodhoppers were put upon his feet; in place of his fine beaver, a coarse slouch hat; all of which my lord enjoyed and laughed over as heartily as the others. The Colonel being in disguise already, it only took a rub or two here, and a scrape or two there, to make him ready for the trip.

By midnight all were ready. As before, in the case of Lamb and Waddell, Ben led the way, and, by playing drunk, and treating the sentinel with whiskey and cigars, got them safely by the first post. From there they walked about two miles to Widow Ennis' farm-house; thence rode to Hendrickson's, nine miles; thence walked to the Falls, one mile. Here Garrett and Morse received them with open arms, and furnished such refreshments as were needed. Mrs. Morse seemed specially impressed at the presence of a live lord, and honored the occasion by putting on her best silk dress before coming down-stairs to be introduced. The guide was in waiting, and within two hours all three left their friends to cross the Potomac. To reach the place where the boat for crossing had been concealed required a walk of about two miles; and, when across, it required a walk of another mile to reach the negro hut of old "Aunt Rachel." It was now so near daylight that the Colonel deemed it unsafe to go further, so that all that day the three remained concealed in Aunt Rachel's humble quarters. They could not venture outside the door even for a moment, and at times the lord seemed in great distress at such close confinement; but the day wore away at last, and soon after nightfall the three walked about four miles to Mr. Francis Latimer's. Here the Colonel had expected to get saddle-horses, as before, but the horses were away, and nothing remained in the shape of a conveyance but an old mule, blind in one eye, and a two-wheel dirt-cart. After some consultation and delay, it was decided to take these, and in a little while after the blind mule and two-wheeled cart, with an old darkey, "Uncle Jarrett," as driver, stood before the door. Some straw had been thrown in the cart, on which our travellers might lay; but Mr. Latimer thought this beneath the dignity of a live lord, and therefore had an old splint-bottom chair set in the cart, on which the lord might sit, while the Colonel could lay upon the straw at his side.

The night was very dark, besides which the age and blindness of the mule made him to stumble frequently. They had not gone half a mile before Lord Brewerton found that his seat was a very uncertain and a very uncomfortable one. Down would go one of the wheels into a deep rut. "Ha! hi! be careful, my man! be careful! What a bloody road this is, to be sure!" the lord would cry out. On a little farther, and down would go the other wheel into a deep rut. "Ho! ha! hi! here we go over, to be sure! Be careful, my good man; be careful! Why, Colonel, I never saw such bloody roads in all my life. Do they ever work them?"

"Yes, sometimes," the Colonel replied, as sober as a judge, though almost dying from suppressed laughter. Indeed such a scene would have made a dog laugh, and surely the blind old mule would have laughed outright could he have laughed at all. The Colonel, lying upon the straw on the bottom of the cart, felt no fear at all when it sidled over; but Lord Brewerton, on the chair, was indeed in danger of being spilled out every time the cart made a sudden lurch. A little farther and one of the wheels strikes and passes over a good sized stone. "Ha! hi! he! here we go sure this time! Be careful, my dear man, be careful! And did you ever see such a bloody road in all your life, Colonel? Are you sure, my dear man, that you are in the road?"

"Yes, massa, I'se sure. I knows'em well. I'se trabelled dis road many times, massa," replied old Jarrett; and then, turning to his mule, said, "Git along, Jack, git along! Lift yer feet high, Jack; lift yer-feet high! Git up, git along, Jack!" And thus for full two miles they trudged along, the lord in danger every five minutes of being thrown over the wheels, and calling everything "bloody! bloody! bloody!" while the Colonel could not help occasional outbursts of laughter, though all the while trying to suppress it, out of respect for the feelings of Lord John.

At length Lord Brewerton's patience gave way entirely, when he seized the old chair and hurled it from the cart, and then laid down in the straw beside the Colonel. The other six miles, to Wilson's mill, were made without any incident worthy of record.

Old Aunt Rachel's negro hut was probably the first in Virginia that ever gave shelter for a whole day to a live lord; and it is safe to say that no live lord ever rode behind a blinder mule, in a more rickety cart, or with a safer driver, than Lord Brewerton did that night. To show his appreciation of treats so rare, we may add, that before leaving Aunt Rachel he handed her two twenty-dollar gold pieces, and before bidding Uncle Jarrett goodbye, he made him happy for life by handing him five twenty-dollar gold pieces.

"God bless you, massa, God bless you!" was all the answer either of them could make to such unexpected generosity; but this, to one whose nature was nobler than his blood, was quite sufficient.

At Wilson's they procured horses, and rode about eight miles to a grove. There they dismounted, as it was dangerous to travel the public road farther, and sending the horses back with the guide, the two trudged along on foot, over fields and through by-paths for about five miles, until they reached Mr. Joseph Berry's. Here they stayed all day, and at night rode on horseback, about seventeen miles, to Mr. Frederick Hutchings. At this farm-house they again changed horses, and then rode six miles farther to Nathan Allen's. Again they changed horses, and then rode about fifteen miles to Budd's mill. It was now near morning, and for the balance of the day they remained concealed in Mr. Budd's house. When night came, they managed, as the Colonel had before, to pass the sentinel at the mill, and then walked four miles to Mr. Brisco's. Here they obtained horses and rode eleven miles to Dr. Charles Worthington's. Here one of the outside Union sentinels was stationed. The guide knew him personally, and slipped one hundred dollars in gold into his hands. The sentinel became suddenly stone-blind, and our travellers passed by without difficulty. They were now within the Confederate lines, and no longer in fear of arrest.. After a short walk they procured horses, and then a ride of nineteen miles brought them to Randolph's, at China Grove station. This route, it will be seen, varied some little from that taken by Messrs. Lamb, and Waddell. A change of Union troops and sentinel-stations made a change of route sometimes necessary. The conductors of the line, Colonels Abercrombie and Killgore, had no less than five different points at which they crossed the Potomac, and at each point, look-outs and guides were all the while in waiting and all the while in the pay of the Confederacy.

At Randolph's, Colonel Abercrombie laid aside his disguise and again assumed his uniform; Lord Brewerton brushed up as best he could; both took seats in the next passing train; and in a few hours thereafter were at the Ballard House, in Richmond. No sooner was Lord Brewerton in his bed-chamber than he kneeled (inviting the Colonel to do the same) and offered up a most earnest prayer of thanks to God for his deliverance from dangers, and for the safety which had attended him thus far in his travels.

Of course, the arrival of Lord Brewerton was at once made known to Mr. Davis, and on the following day the President not only called upon him, but insisted that he should make the Executive Mansion his home while he remained in Richmond, to which Lord Brewerton finally consented, and at once accompanied Mr. Davis to his home. For a day or two they were in close consultation. After that, members of the cabinet, army officers, and other prominent gentlemen commenced to call upon Lord Brewerton. It was soon after arranged that a reception ball should be given him at the Executive Mansion. The programme included the illumination of the grounds with brilliant fire-works, the attendance of military bands, with special invitations to all the leading civil and military officers of the Confederacy. The reception and ball came off, and was even more brilliant than had been anticipated. Among those present, were Generals Lee, Breckenridge, and Beauregard. The ladies, it had been arranged, should all dress in calico, from the President's wife down. This was observed to the letter, and the lord was given to understand that it was done as a compliment to the cotton manufacturing interests of England, though the fact was that but few Southern ladies had any of their silks and satins left to wear. Although the South, even in the very highest circles of society, was beginning to feel the pinch-ings of poverty in dress, food, and in almost everything else, yet this was carefully concealed from the eyes and ears of Lord Brewerton during the whole time of his stay in the Confederacy.

About two weeks after the grand ball, Lord Brewerton, accompanied by a few friends, started on a tour of inspection through the Confederate States, especially to places where cotton was stored in large quantities. They visited Wilmington and Newbern, N. C., Charleston, Savannah, Mobile, and many other points. The entire trip occupied about two months. On his return to Richmond, Lord Brewerton expressed to President Davis and others his entire satisfaction with what he had seen and otherwise learned, adding that he had not the shadow of a doubt as to the final success of the Confederate arms. He assured Mr. Davis that whatever money, arms, and provisions the Confederacy might need would be promptly furnished by himself and his associates, in exchange for cotton; and that the cause of the South would continue to receive, as it had all along received, the sympathy and moral support of all the upper classes of England. He also assured him that if the ministry of England could have the least possible excuse for interfering between the North and the South, they would be more than glad to espouse the cause of the South, as England's material interests all lay in this direction, and the moral sentiment of the nation could not stand for one moment in the way of its moneyed interests.

Lord Brewerton remained in Richmond after his return about one week, in consultation with President Davis and his cabinet; Colonel Abercrombie was then telegraphed for; all the needed arrangements were made; the two left Richmond, and in less than a week were at the English embassy at Washington. Their return was by the same route as that on which they had gone; walking and riding about the same, except that they missed this time a ride behind old Jarrett's blind mule; nor did they have the luxury of spending a whole day at Aunt Rachel's negro hut. Lord Brewerton told Lord Lyons all about the incidents of their trip (as well as all that he had seen and learned of the Confederacy), and the two had over them and their wine many a hearty laugh.

It so happened that on the evening following the return of Lord Brewerton and Colonel Abercrombie to Washington, there was to be a grand reception at the White House. The lord invited the Colonel to accompany him to this reception, and to be introduced as his friend. The Colonel hesitated at first, as he feared he might possibly be recognized by some of his old Washington acquaintances, or by some of Baker's secret detectives. He finally consented, however, and, in the disguise of a "French exquisite," did attend President Lincoln's grand reception, and saw and heard all that was to be seen and heard on such occasions. Of course, Lord Brewerton was the observed of all observers, and was recognized by all (save those who knew to the contrary) as a staunch friend to the Union. A few days after, Lord Brewerton and the Colonel went to Philadelphia, where they met a party of gentlemen at Dr. Charles Howell's, and where future business arrangements were talked over and agreed upon. From here the lord went to New York, while the Colonel returned to Washington and from thence to Richmond.

Thus we finish the record of the visit of one English peer to the Southern Confederacy; but this, by no means, constitutes the whole of such visits during the war. In January, 1863, Lord Talbot was at Charleston, having reached there by the way of Nassau. He had a son who was a colonel in the Confederate army, and who continued in the service until the close of the war. In November, 1863, Lords Harvey and Kartwright were at Richmond; they, too, having reached the Confederate States by the way of Nassau. Major Hodges, one of General Beauregard's staff, was the son of an English lord, and did faithful service until the war closed. Adjutant-General Cooper said that upon the army rolls were the names of scores who were either the sons of, or nearly related to, English peers. Lord Cavendish, who was in very bad health, remained at Nassau during most of the time that the war continued, rendering such aid to the Confederacy as lay in his power. Indeed, the immense hotel at Nassau was crowded with English and Northern sympathizers with the South nearly all the while, from the beginning to the end of the war, watching chances for running the blockade, and otherwise aiding the Confederacy in whatever way they could. These gentlemen, however, while friends to the Confederacy, were still more friends to their own pockets. With them "cotton was king," and of this king they were trying to get as much in their pockets as possible, while English ministers and English consuls were aiding them to the extent of their ability. This was true not only at Washington and at Nassau, but generally with British ministers and British consuls throughout the world, which fact, added to what we have related of Lord Brewerton, who, doubtless, represented many other persons besides himself, and many other interests besides his own, fully justifies, as we think, the caption given to this chapter, Nobility after the Nuggets – Diplomacy Prompting the Actors.

CHAPTER VI. IN TIGHT PLACES AND OUT. SHREWDNESS PULLING THE WIRES

THE plan of our work admits of only one more chapter on the subject of running the land blockade, though, if space permitted, the entire volume might be filled with incidents connected with this one service. This chapter, therefore, must embrace a variety of incidents.

On one of the trips, Colonel Abercrombie conducted Mr. Charles R. Dangerfield from Washington to Richmond, and return. Mr. Dangerfield was a large manufacturer, or the agent of manufacturers, of English arms, accoutrements, etc., and his object in visiting Richmond was to make contracts with the Confederacy in exchange for cotton. Nothing of special note occurred on the way to Richmond, except that, while lying at the negro hut all day, two men came to the door, and asked "Aunt Jemima" if Colonel Abercrombie was not there? This Mr. Dangerfield heard, and it frightened him almost out of his wits. "Now Grant's men have us!" said he, and, springing up from where he lay, he was ready to surrender at once; but the military experience of the Colonel made him cooler and more courageous than the Englishman, and he, instead of surrendering, was getting ready to sell his life as dearly as possible, when "Aunt Jemima" called out, "All's right, honey, all's right! dese be your guides, Mas'er Colonel; all's right!" Had a ten-thousand ton weight been lifted from Mr. Dangerfield's breast, he could not have felt more relieved. He was ready to dance a hornpipe then and there, and would have done it, had he not been too old, fat, and clumsy for such a youthful sport. From Richmond, Mr. Dangerfield visited all the larger cities, and all the cotton-storing places of the Confederacy. On his return to Richmond he made contracts with the government to his entire satisfaction, and in due time returned to Washington, New York, and thence to London.

At another time the Colonel conducted another English manufacturer, Mr. Francis Willis, across the lines and back. He, like Mr. Dangerfield, visited the principal points in the Confederacy, and, on his return to Richmond, made contracts to furnish arms, accoutrements, saddles, clothing, etc., in exchange for cotton.

There were others who were passengers on this line, at various times; but as their object was to see friends or attend to domestic affairs, and had no direct connection with the war, we think it unnecessary to particularize them.

On one of the trips Colonel Abercrombie was arrested as a spy – though his duties, and those of Colonel Killgore's, were as foreign to those of a spy as one thing can be foreign to another – and as there were incidents connected with the arrest and escape never heretofore known, we will now relate them.

The Colonel was on his way from Richmond to Washington. Had reached Great Falls in safety, and was about half way between that point and Georgetown, when a sentinel suddenly called, "Halt! stand, or I'll fire." The Colonel, who was in the disguise of a farmer, tried to explain to the sentinel that he was a farmer, living near Georgetown; that he had been up to Garrett & Morse's store to see a friend, and was now on his way back; that he was an uncompromising "Union man," etc., etc.; but the sentinel's only reply was that his orders were to halt and detain any one who attempted to pass his post, and that the Colonel must stand precisely where halted until the corporal came around, and not move a step forward or backward, or he would fire upon him. The Colonel saw that he had a sentinel to deal with who could not be either cajoled or bribed, and that he could do nothing else than await the coming of the corporal, and then try his arts upon him. Could he have got near the sentinel, he would have disarmed him and escaped, but this was impossible. When the corporal came around to relieve the guard the Colonel told him the same story he had told the sentinel; but he seemed to doubt the story, and told the Colonel he must "fall in" and accompany them to the Captain's headquarters, about a half-mile distant. On reaching there the Colonel repeated the same old story, to all of which the Captain listened attentively and respectfully. The Captain had just eaten his supper, and, learning from the Colonel that he had not yet had his, asked him to take a seat at the table and help himself. While the Colonel was eating, the Captain narrowly observed him, and pretty soon cried out, "Yes! I see you are a farmer from the way you handle your knife and fork! A pretty farmer you are, to be sure!" The Colonel was nonplussed for a moment and could make no reply; but after awhile managed to say that he "could n't see why a farmer could not handle a knife and fork just as well as anybody else." He was caught, fairly caught, by his "society manners," and the more he talked, the better satisfied the Captain became that he was not a farmer, and might be a spy. He was accordingly sent, that same night, to the headquarters of the Eleventh Pennsylvania regiment, and there put in the guard-house. Next morning the colonel of this regiment sent him to General Wilson's headquarters, near by, who, after some questions, sent him back to the guard-house. The next night Colonel Abercrombie made an attempt to escape, and nearly succeeded. This being reported to General Wilson, he ordered a heavy ball and chain to be strongly riveted to the Colonel's leg. Matters now began to look desperate; for, while the Colonel had no fear of being condemned as a spy, he was ready to do anything, rather than be brought before a court-martial and recognized. He bethought himself of some medicine he always carried with him. Of this he took a dose, and soon had a most violent diarrhoea. He now could ask, and did ask, to be sent to a hospital, and next day was sent to the Lincoln Hospital, near Georgetown. It changed that on the next couch to his in the hospital lay a Confederate captain, named Lawrence Norton, of Georgia. The two soon became acquainted. The Colonel told the Captain that if by any means the ball and chain could be taken from his leg, he could escape from the hospital. The Captain told his wife this when she visited him next day; the wife became immediately interested, and soon procured and brought to her husband a watch-spring file; the Captain that same night so filed the clasp, which held the ball and chain to the Colonel's ankle, that it could be slipped off at any moment. The Colonel watched the surgeon when he came into the hospital next day, and managed to slip a pass from the surgeon's overcoat pocket while it lay upon a stand near his bed. With this pass and two empty bottles in his hand, he rushed by the sentinel at the door, on the plea that he was in great haste to bring medicines which the doctor had just sent him after. Once outside the building, he sprang over a cemetery fence, and from thenceforth allowed no grass to grow under his feet until he was safe at Ben Beveridge's hotel. Here, of course, there was great rejoicing at the Colonel's wonderful escape; but, fearing pursuit, it was thought best that the Colonel should proceed at once to Baltimore, and from thence to Philadelphia. It was deemed best, too, that he should not start from the Washington depot, lest detectives be on the watch there for him. Accordingly, Ben ordered up his own spanking team of bays, and before daybreak had the Colonel at the Bladensburg station, where he took the first train that came along for Baltimore. Fearing, however, to go into the Baltimore depot, lest detectives might be there on the watch for him, the Colonel got off the train at the Relay House, and gave a man a twenty-dollar gold piece to drive him into Baltimore, a distance of about thirteen miles. He went direct to the Fountain Hotel, in Light Street, where he remained carefully concealed for several days, only seeing Mr. Thomas, Mr. Wilson, and such others as he knew to be firm friends of the Southern cause. Then he went to Philadelphia and remained at Dr. Howell's for about two weeks.

Meanwhile the newspapers of Washington and of the whole country were publishing accounts about the "wonderful escape of a rebel spy," and all sorts of guesses were made as to who he was, how he had managed to escape, who had helped him, where he had gone, etc., etc. Of course, the whole of Baker's national detective force and all the police and detective forces of New York, Philadelphia, and of every other Northern city, were specially charged to search out, arrest, and bring to speedy justice this "desperate rebel spy;" but not one of them all ever succeeded in arresting, nor even in ascertaining who this "rebel spy" was; and not until this shall appear in print will the world at large ever know who the arrested party was, how he managed his escape, or what became of him after his escape.

CHAPTER VII. JOHNSON IN A QUANDARY. THE HEART MASTERING THE HEAD

There was another incident connected with the running of the land blockade which, though hardly sufficient for an entire chapter, is too important and too interesting to allow to pass without notice: for not until this is published will it ever be known outside of some half-dozen persons. The incident was as follows:

On one of his blockade-running visits to Washington, Colonel Abercrombie learned that Senator Andrew Johnson, as it then was (though afterwards Vice-President, and still afterwards President of the United States), had rooms at Beveridge's Hotel, the very place that he was making his headquarters when in Washington. Knowing the Senator to be a fierce, uncompromising Union man, the news of his close proximity at first alarmed the Colonel; but, upon reflection, he remembered that Mrs. Johnson and his mother had long been on the most intimate terms, – that the Senator knew him personally, and had always treated him with the utmost kindness, – that he was a man of generous heart, and even though he should learn of his being there, the danger of his interfering with him was next to nothing. He therefore decided to stand his ground and take the chances.

As proximity to danger is always exciting, and, after a time, becomes attractive, so in this case, what at first seemed alarming, after a time became so attractive that the Colonel had a longing desire to see and converse with his old friend, Andrew Johnson. He communicated this desire to his friend and co-associate in the blockade-running business, Ben Beveridge, and asked him what he thought of it. Ben, at first, thought it would not do at all; but, like the Colonel, after thinking over the matter some time, concluded that it would be a capital joke, and advised the Colonel to try it.

The Colonel was disguised – so disguised, indeed, that even his own sister would not have known him, had she met him in the street – and the arrangement was, that Ben should await in the entry, near the Senator's chamber-door, while the Colonel went in to talk with him; and that, if the Senator did not receive him kindly, or if he showed any disposition to arrest him, the Colonel should at once quit the room, and Ben would help him to escape.

Everything thus understood, the Colonel went to the Senator's door and knocked gently. A deep, stentorian voice replied, "Come in but the Colonel pretended not to hear this, and knocked again, as he wanted the Senator to come to and open the door, that he might at once step within the room, whether the Senator invited him to do so or not. The second knock brought the Senator to the door, which he opened far enough to face his visitor, when he said:

"How do you do, sir?"

The Colonel replied, and, while replying, stepped within the room, when the Senator shut the door, and invited his visitor to take a seat. The Colonel did not sit down, but, taking hold of the back of the chair offered him, he said to Mr. Johnson:

"You seem not to know me, Mr. Senator. When did you leave Greenville? and where is Mrs. Johnson and Bob?"

This confused the Senator more than ever, as the visitor seemed to be familiar with his wife and son, as well as with himself, and yet he could not recollect to have ever seen him before.

"Well, no," replied the Senator, "I really cannot place you, or call your name. By jingo! who are you, any way?"

"I guess you don't want to know me," replied the Colonel, "and I had better be going."

"Oh, no, sir; oh, no," replied Mr. Johnson; "sit down! sit down! When did you come from Greenville? But really, sir, I cannot recall your name – I cannot."

The Colonel observed the Senator's confusion, and so enjoyed the joke that it was some time before he would let himself be known. Then, suddenly tearing the false whiskers from his face and putting on a natural expression, he stood revealed before the Senator.

"My God! is this you, Ralph?" was all that Mr. Johnson could say for some moments; and then added, "Why, Ralph, ain't you in the rebel service?"

"Well, what if I am?" replied the Colonel; "you don't propose to arrest me, do you?"

"No, no; but, by jingo! what under heavens brought you here?" said the Senator; and, going to the door, locked it before the Colonel had time to reply. "Sit down! sit down!" he added, "and tell me all about it. What under heavens could have brought you here, or induced you to call upon me?"

The Colonel then took a seat and explained to Mr. Johnson why he was there, the nature of his business, and that he had only called upon him as a good joke, and to renew an old acquaintance; to all of which the Senator listened attentively, though trembling meanwhile from excitement. When the Colonel had finished, Mr. Johnson sprang from his chair, walked hurriedly across the room two or three times, went to the front windows and pulled down the shades, and then, turning to the Colonel, said:

"Does anybody know that you are here with me?" Just then Mr. Johnson heard a tittering in the entryway, and, turning to the Colonel, asked him if he had any companions waiting outside. The Colonel replied, that he thought it might be Ben, as he alone knew of his visit. Immediately Mr. Johnson stepped to the door, and, seeing Ben, asked him to step in. Ben did so, and now the Senator became more in a quandary than ever. He scolded both Ben and the Colonel pretty severely, and told them they did not appreciate the awkward position in which they were placing him; that, if the Colonel's visit to him were known, it would, under the circumstances, compromise him in a most serious manner. Ben tried to soothe the Senator by telling him that the Colonel's call upon him was only intended as a joke; that it could never be known outside of their three selves; and that it should never be repeated, if annoying to him. The Senator replied, that while he was glad, personally, to see Ralph, yet the fact that he was known to be an officer in the rebel army, and in his business of blockade-running might by some be regarded as a spy, made it doubly awkward for him, and, if it were known to the Senate, might cost him his seat, as well as his reputation as a consistent Union man; that nearly every one would say that he ought to have had the Colonel arrested and detained, at least as a prisoner-of-war, if not as a spy; and that, in holding communication with him without attempting his arrest, he made himself a party to his crime, whether as a rebel to the government or as a spy. The more the Senator talked about it, the graver he became over it, until the Colonel and Ben saw that what had been intended as a comedy might prove a serious tragedy with all concerned, and that the sooner they got out of the way the better. Before leaving, the Senator exacted from each a solemn promise that they would not repeat the joke under any possible circumstances.

There is no kind of doubt that Senator Johnson felt greatly troubled at receiving such a visit from an officer in the Confederate service, and in learning that his landlady's son, Ben, was just as much of a rebel at heart as the Colonel himself. He knew, too, that his official duty as a United States Senator was to have both of these men arrested, tried, and, if possible, convicted, while his heart prompted to a course directly the contrary. He had long known, and had high regard for, the mothers of both; the men he had known from childhood upward, and always liked them, as boys, as young men, as men in active life, and he would as soon have thought of having his own son, "Bob," arrested as either of these, and yet his duty plainly pointed in that direction. It was a conflict between his head and his heart, in which his heart gained the mastery.

That the Senator did not hold any ill-will against the Colonel or against Ben for this wild prank of theirs against his Senatorial and official dignity is proven from the fact that he still continued to board with Ben's mother at the "Washington House," and within two years after he became President he appointed the Colonel as one of three commissioners to reopen and establish mail-routes throughout the late Confederate States.

CHAPTER VII. PRISONERS, HOW USED AND HOW ABUSED. CRAFT AND CRUELTY PROMPTING THE ACTORS

IN General L. C. Baker's "History of the United States Secret Service," four chapters are devoted to the subject of bounty-jumpers. In these chapters the startling facts are disclosed that on investigation, it was found that only one in four of the enlisted men reached the front that, in some instances, the entire quota of a township was filled with the names of bounty-jumpers, not one of whom ever really enlisted or went to the front; that desertions from the army became so common that to "even attempt to show, by actual figures, the number would be impossible;" that "to aid the soldier to desert was deemed to be as much the legitimate business and calling of the professional bounty broker as to enlist him;" that in one investigation it was shown, "out of 5,284 enlisted, only 2,083 actually entered the service;" that out of this number – less than one-half who really enlisted – not more than three-fourths ever reached the front, and of these probably one-fourth deserted and returned to the States, to reënlist and receive bounty again; that of one hundred and "eighty-three who enlisted in one day at Hoboken and were credited to the quota of Jersey City, every one was a bounty-jumper;" that case after case came to light where a single bounty-jumper had enlisted three times, and received three separate bounties, in one day, and that even gipsy-like gangs were organized, who travelled from city to city, enlisting such of their number as they could, assisting such as enlisted to escape, and then on to the next city or recruiting station to repeat the same thing. Of one such gang it is related that "in a trip of thirty-two days their total profits amounted to $32,000."

It is also a matter of record that while skirmishes and battles were in progress, Union soldiers in the front ranks, and especially if sent forward as skirmishers, would sometimes throw down their muskets and run over to the enemy; and it not unfrequently happened that sentinels on the outposts were missing and never heard of more, or, if heard of, it would be found they had gone within the Confederate lines and surrendered.

These matters have all been told, and well told, by other historians, but not until these "Secrets of the Rebellion" have been published will it be generally known what became of those who thus threw down their arms, and of those who thus abandoned their posts, to go over to the enemy, and that to encourage bounty-jumping in the North, and thereby promote desertions from the Union army, became, after August, 1863, a part of the masterly diplomacy or tactics adopted by the Confederate Government.