It was lots of fun to Fatty and Lanyard, but for my part I'd rather get into a real battle than to become mixed up in an Irish fist fight.

There were some horses in camp belonging to the several officers who were quartered out there. Our Captain had his own, a finely-bred animal, which he rode to town and back every day. On account of the deformity of his limbs or hips, it was necessary that he should be almost lifted into the saddle, which was made of a particular shape suited to him. Because of this necessity for having someone always with him, I was selected by the Captain, with whom I had become a favorite, to accompany him nearly every day on a second horse. He almost always rode straight to the War Department, and I went along with him as far as I could. In this way I was able to keep up safely my silent watch on the Rebel War Office, rarely missing a day during our stay in Camp Lee on which I did not get to town with the Captain.

My gray uniform had been neatly fitted by the "juke," and my way of wearing my blouse coat-tails tucked inside my trousers had so pleased the Captain that he had ordered every man to wear his clothes as I did.

This style of dress gave me a sort of Garibaldi appearance, and I fancy that, as I rode my horse fairly well, from an early training in Western Texas, I made a pretty creditable appearance on the streets of Richmond as a Rebel soldier boy.

It was in this disguise that, I may safely assert, I openly visited _every single point of interest in and around Richmond_.

I felt so perfectly secure and safe, that I had again become reckless and careless.

By reason of my close association with the Captain, as his private secretary or company clerk, I was able to secure from him his written permit to visit town in the evening. The Colonel (or Sergeant), Mr.

Lanyard and myself had naturally gravitated toward each other, and visits to town after dark were usually made by this congenial trio in one group, but we didn't always return together.

The old Colonel and Lanyard were the real Philistines, and I may safely put all their night raids upon them. Whenever the Colonel or Lanyard wished to go to town, one of them would come to me, as the "Adjutant of their Corps," as the Colonel used to say, and in their seductive manner ask me to write out a pass for three and get the "old man" to sign it.

The Captain had gotten into the way of signing so many of the blank forms, that it was my daily duty to submit to him, his signature was easily obtained to further our little schemes.

Of the great number and variety of troops, probably the most popular, as a general thing, were the refugees from Maryland.

For some months after the first battle, the ladies of the very best old families of Richmond were in the habit of making daily visits to the camps of the troops about the city.

There was a crack battalion of "gentlemen" soldiers from South Carolina that came to town during my stay, whose regiment I've forgotten, but my impression is that it was Hampton's South Carolina Battalion. Their presence created quite a furore among the ladies of Richmond, and the dress-parade in the evening seemed to bring half the town out in carriages and in droves of pedestrians. These fellows wore a fancy uniform, and, without a word of exaggeration, I may say every private in the battalion was provided with a body servant--in most cases a likely boy, perhaps one of the slaves with whom the soldier had played as a child, was now sent along with him to the war to take care of the young master.

Our Colonel didn't like the attention that was being given to the South Carolina boys; perhaps he felt a little bit envious or jealous, as he observed to a lady:

"These fellows have brought along their niggers to carry umbrellas over them while they fight."

While Lanyard thought: "It's most likely the nigger is there to fix up their cocktails."

I have, myself, seen refined ladies in our camp, with sleeves rolled up and huge aprons covering their fine dresses, assisting the troopers to bake their biscuit and bread. The younger and better-looking ladies were often to be seen at camp, with baskets in hand, laying out bountiful spreads in the barrack "dining-room."

The appearance of these ladies at camp always put the Colonel on his mettle--he would go about our part of the quarters, his actions totally altered from his usual slow and quiet manner.

Our sailor-boy chum, whom we called Lanyard, had not enjoyed the society of ladies so much as the Colonel, probably on account of his sea-faring life, and was rather inclined to resent the intrusion of the ladies.

Through the Colonel's gallantry and cheek, our little mess was pretty well remembered by the visiting sisters.

It was through visits of this character that we became acquainted with a nice young lady, whom we will call Capitola, because that wasn't her name. She was a typical Southern girl. I can not describe her, except to say that she was a beautiful brunette, who had attended boarding school somewhere near Baltimore, and probably through this fact she became interested in the Maryland refugees. As I have said, the Colonel was a gallant fellow, and also a good manager, who was not slow to take advantage of the opportunity this pretty girl's visits to our camp afforded. She, of course, made her visits in company with a bevy of other pretty girls, some of whom were equally as handsome as herself, but Capitola is _the_ girl of this part of our story.

One day our fair visitors made a special call on our officers to notify us, in their charming way, of an entertainment which was to be given at one of the halls in the city, to which Marylanders especially were invited. The Colonel in his courteous way accepted the invitation for us.

When the ladies were ready to return, the Colonel persistently escorted them to the gate--as he always did--while we bashful boys stood back and envied his easy manners, as he escorted them away from us. He always came back to us with a broad grin on his face, but, kept a taunting silence as to the conversation that seemed to be so interesting and amusing.

We put in the balance of that day preparing for the evening's entertainment. As a general thing, we were demoralized after the visit and could do nothing else. It so happened that it rained one of those cold, misty, half-rain and half-sleet storms, that are so disagreeable always, and especially so when they interfere with one's efforts to get himself up in his best shape. The storm did not, however, prevent a full attendance at the ball, for it was a sort of ball or reception, after some introductory addresses, accompanied by the music of "Dixie" and "Maryland, my Maryland."

Mrs. President Davis was present. Though I had frequently seen her, she never looked to my eyes other than a very ordinary matronly lady.

It was a tableau, in which our girl was representing "Maryland enslaved." She was attired, not exactly in the costume of the Greek slave, but in a sombre mourning garb, with her head bowed as if in great sorrow and distress. She walked on to the stage, and, with a pathetic appeal, lifted toward heaven as beautiful a face as I have ever seen, stretching out her bared arms, which were shackled by chains. It was a beautiful and a striking picture, presented with great effect, and I don't suppose there was a person in the vast crowd who did not feel ready to make a desperate effort to release the pretty Maryland girl from those dreadful chains. I'm quite sure I should have done so if I'd had the opportunity, and would have been glad to have picked "Maryland"

up and carried her away from such dreadful people, but we were not to be given this privilege.

At the proper moment, Mr. President Davis stepped forward, and, like an accomplished actor, played his part excellently well, wrenching the chains from "Maryland" and setting her free. "Maryland" horrified all the battery boys by immediately throwing her arms around her rescuer.

"We three roughish chaps together," came away from that show with our empty heads in a whirl. It was still sleeting and quite cold. Lanyard, with an assumed shudder, proposed that we go to some saloon to get something hot to prevent our taking cold.

I have never been drunk in my life. I say this here, because a good many persons who will read this will naturally think that any person who has "been around" as much as I, must at some time have been full. Especially as I am an old soldier, I know that some persons will laugh at this statement as a joke; but it's a sober fact. I never was drunk, but I came mighty near it that night in Richmond.

Lanyard was familiar with all the best places to "get something," and took us into a cozy, warm room, where there was a good, cheerful fire blazing. On one side of the room was the bar--one of those old-fashioned high counters--but you all know what a bar is like, so I won't attempt a description of such a place to old soldiers. On this counter was a large china bowl beautifully decorated on the outside, while within was floating a mixture that I had never seen before. On inquiry, I was informed by the bartender, with a significant grin at the Colonel, which I afterward recalled, that the mixture was Virgina apple-jack.

You don't know what that is? No, I think it has gone out of date, or perhaps its concoction is one of the lost arts. There were apples--roasted apples--floating in a sea of foam, that gave forth a most delightful fragrance. I was curious about the stuff, and being assured by Lanyard that it was a sort of cooked cider, that was made in Virginia as a temperance drink for those who were opposed to hard cider, I, in my unsuspecting innocence, partook of a mug full of the hot stuff.

It was not hard to take, being quite pleasant to the taste, and, the evening being so cold and wet, I was prevailed upon to poke my nose into another mug of the apple tea, "just to keep from taking cold."

We all sat down at an adjoining table to await our order of fried oysters, the two companions becoming quite hilarious over their gin, in a way, which I recalled afterwards, as quite significant.

The room was quite warm, and, as I began to dry out in its atmosphere, I became, I thought, too warm, and said as much, which my companions passed off in their careless way with a laugh.

When I attempted to get on to my feet, for the first time in my life my head felt a little bit dizzy, and I had to support myself as I stood to get a proper balance. The table began to move, as if impelled by some unseen power; in looking up, the fire had grown into three or four different fires in as many different places; there were several hundred bottles behind the bar, and realizing in an instant what was coming, I made a sudden rush for the door, staggering through the room, amid the laughter of the Colonel and Lanyard, who urged me to sit down; but I had not yet lost my head, and refused to stop until I got outside, when I leaned against the door until I cooled off.

It was a close call, but the Federal Spy didn't lose his head in Richmond that night.

CHAPTER XIX.

RICHMOND, FALL, 1861--DAILY VISITS TO THE WAR OFFICE, MECHANICS'

HALL--EVENINGS DEVOTED TO VISITS IN TOWN--MIXED UP WITH MARYLAND LADIES--FORT PICKENS OPENS FIRE ON PENSACOLA BATTERIES--GENERAL WINDER, OF MARYLAND--JEFF DAVIS INAUGURATED PRESIDENT--SHAKE HANDS WITH JEFF DAVIS.

While it may very often become expedient for a spy, while perambulating in an enemy's country, to drink socially with those with whom he desires to communicate, it is always a dangerous expedient, because, of all persons, a spy requires a cool and clear head.

Although these Confederate soldiers, with whom I was that night associated, had not the slightest suspicion of my true character and purposes, yet, if I had been made foolishly drunk by them, there is no telling what my loosened tongue might have done for me. We were--all three of us--very much "gone" on the enslaved beauty, and under such softening influences, at this particular time, a very light dose of Virginia "apple-jack," added to the "Maryland" influence, would have completely upset us all.

In fact, I was in greater danger of losing my heart than my head. The beautiful tableau which we had just witnessed, coupled with the presence of refined and lovely ladies, accompanied by the sweet music of Maryland, had more effectually intoxicated my senses than the seductive "apple-jack."

It will be remembered that in our set was the Lieutenant, who was supposed to have been a staid married man at home in Maryland, and it would hardly be fair now to print his desperate efforts to cut out the boys of his company, simply because he was an officer. We were only able to defeat his intrigue by bringing to our aid the gallant and handsome Second Lieutenant, a dark-eyed Mississippi gentleman, but he, with base ingratitude, took unfair advantage of the opportunities we had afforded him and used his big black eyes and seductive smiles to capture _our girl_--and she, the beautiful but uncertain Capitola, the friend of the Maryland refugees, surrendered to our Mississippi Lieutenant, and there was great trouble and heart-burning in that Rebel battery ever after.

My undertakings and surroundings in Richmond were not exactly adapted to the production of humorous or funny effects, but I had lots of fun, all the same, though I was not sent there for that purpose.

I went about the city during daylight in the garb of a Confederate soldier, carrying in my pocket the pass of the commanding officer at Camp Lee, which was furnished me freely through my Maryland Captain's influence.

General Winder, who became afterward notorious as the Provost-Marshal-General of Richmond and keeper of Libby Prison, was a Maryland man, and it so happened that he had known our Captain intimately while the two lived together in Baltimore. This was a most fortunate circumstance for my schemes, as the first endorsement I had taken General Winder was of a personal character from his friend, our Captain, and thereafter I became solid with General Winder as long as I remained in Richmond.

I was frequently tempted to go home; indeed, I had several times come to the conclusion, from my own observation, that there was to be no advance into Maryland, and that I might as well quit and go home; but, again, I really felt as if I must accomplish _something_ first. I had stayed away so long, and had done nothing of importance, that I began to feel that it would be a degradation to crawl back home and have to explain to every person I knew where I had been and why I had been there.

I wanted to go back when I should be made welcome. I confess right here that, since our pleasant acquaintance with the ladies of Richmond had been formed, I was becoming more content to remain longer in exile. The presence, and particularly the bright smiles and winning ways of our "Capitola" was a very great attraction.

I did not go about Richmond as a tramp or a peddler, as is the usual method of spies we read about in novels, but, instead, I personated a high-toned Maryland youth--dressed myself in the grayest of gray uniform, adding all the red trimmings that my rank as Corporal permitted. I rode a good horse, and, in my capacity of Private Secretary or Orderly to our lame Captain, enjoyed unusual facilities. During the daytime I took advantage of all these circumstances, and had my eyes and wits about me, while the night, in the company of our trio, was usually spent "about town," where I met some of the best people, who welcomed us to their houses as Marylanders exiled from our homes. I also encountered among others some of the very worst class of citizens.

As I have before stated, our Captain frequently visited the War Office, and I was nearly always taken along him, as he, on account of the stiffness of one of his legs, was unable to mount or dismount his horse without assistance. I learned, through this association with him, that the influence which he controlled at headquarters, and which enabled him--a cripple--to obtain such a good and much-sought-after position in the army over the heads of others, was derived, in part at least, from some relationship with Mr. Judah P. Benjamin, the Secretary of War for the Confederates.