This information of the threatened invasion of Maryland, and the capture of Washington and Baltimore, had apparently put new and fresh blood into my veins. I felt that I _must_ find out all about it, because I was in Richmond for that purpose, and if I failed or permitted so important an event to be planned and put into operation right under my own eyes, it would prove pretty conclusively that as a Spy, or scout, I was not reliable, and, after enduring so much hardship, I could not afford to fail in this important matter.

So I told the Colonel that I was most anxious to go with him and Elkton to Maryland as a Rebel soldier.

While they were arranging the details with the War Office, and some of the other Maryland refugees with whom we were to be consolidated, I put in my time scouring every avenue of information that I could think of, for some confirmation of the reported plan to advance. I was more deeply interested in this than I can explain; because, aside from my personal feelings and sympathies, I had, as will be remembered, a month or two previously advised our Government that an advance was impossible, on account of so much sickness and general laxity of discipline, etc.

But that information was based upon a condition of things which existed shortly after the battle of Bull Run.

It was now about the first part of October, I think, and during the time that had elapsed the condition of affairs at Manassas had changed very much, of course. The Rebel Army had been sick--like myself--but had now sufficiently recovered to carry the campaign further, and be in good shape for an offensive movement.

The Confederate authorities at Richmond were fully posted on all that was being done at Washington.

I am not sure but that there was a daily mail from the North. I wanted very much indeed to learn something about the manner of this system of communication, but I was always afraid to meddle too much about it while I was in Richmond, lest I should get picked up by some of the knowing ones among the Rebel spies and sympathizers, who were even in the employ of our own Government.

It was intimated in my hearing, while in Richmond, that the wife of President Lincoln was at heart in sympathy with the South; and that her brother, a Mr. Todd, who was in the Confederate service, was in communication with her. No person of good judgment ever believed in this story. I only mention it because some of the Rebel officers talked of the matter in a self-satisfied way.

One of my regular morning walks in Richmond was to go to the newspaper office, in Main street, to read their daily, which was posted on a file outside of their office. There was usually quite a crowd about the office early in the day, because paper was becoming quite scarce in Rebeldom and a daily paper was too expensive a luxury for every one to enjoy, especially in my circumstances. I found, too, while standing about in the crowds, that I could overhear a great deal of comment on the news--that was more satisfactory to me as a spy than the news the paper contained.

The Richmond press regularly quoted the principal New York papers of only a day or so preceding. Of course, all the unfavorable criticism of the Union military officers, and especially the opposition to the administration of Lincoln on the part of Northern Copperheads.

If some of these old Coppers could have been in Richmond while under the Confederate free government, and have experienced something of the "gratitude" extended to them in their words of comment, it would have been a benefit to the country, in this way--that it would have dried up a great deal of Northern sympathy.

It seemed to me to be the general sentiment among Southern people of the more intelligent class, in response to this exhibition of Copperhead sympathy, was oftenest expressed in words similar to this:

"Why don't they come over and help us now?" "What are they talking about so much; why don't they come on?"

If I heard that sentiment expressed once, I've heard it perhaps hundreds of times, in different forms; but it seemed to me, even then, that there existed a general contempt on the part of the better people South for those in the North who sent their sympathy and encouragement through the newspaper exchanges.

On Main street, nearly opposite the newspaper office, was the general telegraph office, through which all communications by telegraph was had to all parts of the Southern Confederacy.

Inside, the office was arranged pretty much in the same general way as a bank: There was a high counter dividing the room lengthwise; that is, from the front about two-thirds of the way back, where it turned in an L-shape across the room. The front door opened into this office. Around the walls were placed the usual conveniences for writing messages, which were to be handed in at the little windows through the glass counter. I called frequently at the office for a message, which I pretended to be expecting.

It never came.

But I was not discouraged, and kept up the visit until the delivery clerk got to know me so well that he would answer my question before I put it. I thought it would be well enough to try something through this channel, and every time I went inside the office, I lounged listlessly about long enough to hear the sound of the instruments, and I never failed to hear _something_ from the sound of the brass-tongue tickers, but that something always happened to be of no consequence. It would usually be some private message, or perhaps a long order from the army headquarters office about some commissary stores.

I remember that I was impressed at the time, from the amount of telegraphing going on on that subject, that there was certainly a war between the Commissary Departments at Richmond and the officers in the front.

I did not dare tarry too long at a time, for fear that my constant attendance at the office might excite some suspicion.

It was only while I was on the alert to get something tangible about the proposed movement of the army that I was willing to take some extra risks to obtain official information.

It was evident, from the increased activity about the offices of the War Department, that something was up. Since I had heard of this proposed advance, I was giving the Departments considerable attention, and rarely missed an opportunity to see as far as I could from the outside what was going on inside.

From my bench, under the trees in the park, I could see that the office was being besieged almost constantly by crowds of people, mostly members of their Congress, who had to pass my seat on their way from the Capitol building to the War Department.

They went in groups of two to four at a time; sometimes a Congressman would be accompanied by an officer in the gray uniform.

As they passed me, their conversation seemed to be animated--in short, there was a general feeling among the crowd, as far as I could gather anything, that something important was pending.

Yet I had no facts--simply surmises, and gossip.

I could not learn much at the telegraph office, and had about abandoned the attempt in that direction, until I struck a plan that was a little risky, but, under the circumstances, I felt justifiable in undertaking almost anything.

Noticing a messenger leaving the War Department, I followed him at a respectful distance. He went straight to the telegraph office; so did I.

I entered the door just a moment after him, and was carelessly edging toward the delivery clerk, to put my stereotyped interrogation to him, when he said in my hearing to the messenger:

"Shall we send dispatches _from the President_ to Mrs. Davis at her home to-night?"

"There wont be any; he is expected back to-night."

Jeff Davis was at Manassas then. I felt really as if I had been derelict in my duty, in thus permitting the President to go out of town without my knowledge and consent. But he was coming back; that was comforting to me. I felt sure now that the rumors of an advance had been confirmed. I knew something was in contemplation, and I should not leave Richmond at that time--certainly not until I had ascertained what it was that they proposed doing, and when it was to be done.

I went straight to my room, wrote a short dispatch--a rather crude one--the translation of which was that:

"Jeff Davis had been to Manassas; something up." And before I slept it was in Colonel J. B. Jones' postoffice.

CHAPTER XVIII.

RICHMOND ON AN AUTUMN MORNING--A GROUP OF GOOD LOOKING SOLDIERS--JEFF DAVIS PASSED BY--THE BATTLE OF BALL'S BLUFF--RICHMOND NEWSPAPERS.

While I felt that my "dispatch" would ultimately go through to its destination at Washington all right, I was yet quite uneasy about this talked-of advance of the Rebels into Maryland, fearful that it might take place at once, or before my information could reach the North, through the blockade mail service, which was necessarily a little bit slow and uncertain. This fear kept me awake long after I had gotten into bed; and as I lay there alone in my room, in a Richmond hotel, brooding over the dangers of a Rebel invasion into Maryland and the humiliation that would attach to the capture or flight of President Lincoln and his officers from Washington, I became, I expect, somewhat wild and frenzied, and again resolved to myself, while in this disordered and disturbed frame of mind, that I would "stand by Jeff Davis"--for awhile--that for one, _he_ should not go to Washington.

I had been away from home now since July, during which time I had heard only of the Union Army through the Rebel sources, and, of course, everything favorable had been suppressed, while all the weaknesses or shortcomings of our Northern forces had been greatly exaggerated.

I had heard so much of this sort of talk during these three months that I had, perhaps, come to believe in a great deal of it. I was young but not inexperienced.

We soon learned how to interpret the numerous war rumors and gossip of the soldiers of both sides--a little later on. Every recruit, perhaps, has suffered--in anticipation--more from the "chin" of old veterans about a camp-fire, who always knew more of the proposed movements of the generals than they did themselves.

So it was that I was compelled to listen to the wild talk of the enthusiastic refugees, my Colonel and Elkton, after they came into the room that night. It was late--they had been having some fun, and were feeling greatly exhilarated over the street rumors of the coming fight.

I do not mean to insinuate that they were tipsy, just because the Colonel got in bed without taking his clothes off, for he was able to talk plainly and volubly until he fell asleep from exhaustion.

The talk of those two fellows that night, about the dreadful things that were going to happen soon, had about set me wild, and I felt as if I should get out of bed and walk right straight up to Washington before daylight and tell Uncle Abe all about it. But I fell asleep, too, and dreamed, perhaps, as wildly as I had been planning.

There was one point settled in my mind, and that was that it was my best plan to remain in Richmond, at least, until something sure was discovered about the Rebel plans. Another was, that if I kept up my friendship with these two lively old boys, who thought they were taking care of me, that I should more easily get fuller and more satisfactory information. I was obliged, in order to prolong my stay, to go with them into their Maryland artillery. I could also more safely reach our army through the cover or disguise of a gray uniform. As they were to go to the front at once, I was willing to do anything that was necessary for the good of the Government, but I wanted very much to avoid as long as was possible the approaching necessity for joining the Rebel Army as a means to further my ends and objects.

I had already staved it off a long time. I could have returned to the North via the James river without trouble, and I had all my arrangements completed to do so, when the reported advance of Beauregard reached my ears, and I had delayed purposely to learn something about this.

While there had been no active operations, I had worked hard and faithfully in secret.

I had opened and kept up communication with our Government--through the rebel channels--that was one great success.

I was also on hand in their territory, and on the alert to discover and report any further information.

I had probably at last discovered something important was pending, and I decided to stay and see it out.