[Illustration: GENO WAS NOT ONLY THE PRETTIEST, BUT THE SWEETEST GIRL I EVER SAW.]

It was decreed that Geno should sit near me that evening on a low sofa, located in a corner of the parlor. All the chairs were occupied by the rest of the company, either by accident or through Miss Sue's propensity to tease her younger sister and myself.

Geno, though but between fifteen and sixteen at that time, was, in her manner, quite as easy and winning as her elder sisters. She sat beside me on the sofa, her luxuriant, dark hair bewitchingly plaited in a roll over her head, wearing a low-neck dress, short skirts, while her bare arms gracefully held a guitar, on which she skillfully played the accompaniment and sweetly sang the old, old Spanish serenade, _Juanita_.

(I advise the young ladies to get a guitar and practice on this song; it will catch a boy every time.) It was that _song_, and the beautiful, large, dark, expressive eyes of this dear little girl that put me in Old Capitol Prison.

I was a "goner" from that moment, and have never gotten entirely over it in all these years.

I do not say it boastingly at all, but for a truth. I believe I should at that time have felt more at my ease if I had been "scouting" or sitting around a camp-fire with Rebels instead of beside the little girl whose dress touched me. It was a clear case of love at first sight.

The Wells family were natives of my own State, having been embargoed during the war because of the father's steamboat interests on the river; and thereby hangs another tale not pertinent to this narrative, which I hope, subsequently, to give to the world.

I had been introduced to the family as a civilian employe of the military railway, and had been able to present some flattering letters of introduction from Mr. John W. Forney, Mr. Covode, and other prominent Pennsylvania gentlemen. I was, of course, made to feel quite at home.

I may as well admit frankly I was about Geno's house more than duty warranted; so much so, indeed, that the amiable mother must have become tired of me. I seldom went to the railroad headquarters, and I had lost all interest in the capture of Richmond and in Capitola.

Of course, I felt obliged to make an appearance of reporting for duty to the railroad office occasionally.

With a desire to learn something of the probable advance to Richmond, I had spent considerable time about the Provost-Marshal's Office, where I had become quite well acquainted with a young officer on detached duty.

His interest probably sprung from having seen me in the company of the pretty girl, with whom he desired to become acquainted through me.

On the occasion of one of these visits, I was questioned quite closely by another of the Staff officers about the politics of the Wells family, and especially of the sympathies of the ladies for Confederate officers.

Perhaps I was not in proper frame of mind to dispassionately discuss this question of Geno's family affairs with a strange officer, and it is probable that I somewhat rashly resented the supposed impertinence.

I was informed that it was through the usual gossipy information volunteered, by some unfriendly Unionists of the town, that this officer at headquarters had learned that Captain Wells had been engaged in blockade-running for the Rebels. I exclaimed that I knew better; that my relations with the family were of an intimate character; that Captain Wells was a native of my own State; that all his daughters had been born and educated in the Wyoming Valley, and that he was in Virginia solely and only because his business of steamboating had embargoed him there, and he had chosen to remain himself and sacrifice his boats, rather than abandon his family. All this was said in a positive manner, and with probably a little more animation than the subject justified. It had, however, the undesirable effect of bringing out prominently a trifling affair that occurred in connection with the family, which I must relate, as part of my experience which soon followed, just to show that "trifles light as air, are to the jealous, confirmations strong as proofs of Holy Writ."

It will be remembered by the old soldiers that, early in the war, it was the custom to display flags promiscuously wherever they could find a place to string one in a Virginia town.

[Illustration: REFUSING IN HER VERY DECIDED MANNER TO WALK UNDER "THAT FLAG."]

Soldiers who were in Fredericksburg with McDowell, in 1862, will know that over the main streets of the town hung innumerable flags, so that the natives must either walk under the flag or stay indoors altogether.

Miss Sue Wells, like most bright girls of her age who lived in the South, was fond of tormenting our officers, "just for fun, you know."

She insisted, in the company of Union officers, that she was a Rebel, but I was quietly informed by the family that, when the Confederates first had possession of the town, she was a Union girl to them.

On this and several other questions Miss Sue and I differed quite decidedly. The sequence and truthfulness of this story compels me to say here that Miss Sue and I quarreled all the time (after I had become fairly established in the family). One day, while walking with her along the main street of the town, we encountered one of the numerous flags that were suspended over the sidewalk. Miss Sue put her little foot down (and I know positively that she had a little foot), refusing in her very decided manner to walk under "that flag!"

What could I do? The street was full of soldiers and officers, whose attention was being attracted toward us by my taking her arm and attempting to force her to accompany me under the flag. I explained that there were flags on the other side of the street,

Flags to the right of us, Flags to the left of us,

and flags every place; that we would not dare to go around it; but the more I talked and urged, the more contrary she grew, and to prevent a further scene on the street, we retraced our steps.

That little act on the streets of Fredericksburg, in the summer of 1862, is on record to-day in the war archives as part of the specifications in a charge of disloyalty against myself, on which I was subsequently arrested and confined in Old Capitol Prison.

It is a shameful fact, that my early record for the Union at Fort Pickens, and the subsequent year of service with a rope about my neck, was, for a short time, completely shadowed by this silly performance with a young lady in Fredericksburg. Not only this, but it was, perhaps, the indirect cause of this young lady's father's banishment from his home and the confiscation of his property.

The officer who had reminded me of this incident undertook to give me some advice as to my association or intimacy in a Rebel family.

He further astonished me by saying they had information of a piratical scheme being hatched, which had for its object the seizure of some of the regular line of steamers plying on the Chesapeake Bay, and Captain Wells was to act as pilot. The officer explained to me further that the plan, as they had learned of it, was for a party of Rebels, disguised as passengers and laborers, to board one of these steamers in Baltimore, and, after she was out in the bay, at midnight, they were to throw off their masks, seize the boat, confine the officers and, under the pilotage of Geno's father, run her into Rebel waters as a prize.

This was indeed startling intelligence, that for a moment staggered me.

I realized that a more suitable person to do the work could not have been selected than Captain Wells.

The officer said, as they had no proof of this at all, he had mentioned it to me with a view of having me look the matter up; that my relations with the family were of such a character as to enable me to get on to the real facts. I left the headquarters feeling very much depressed.

After another enjoyable evening spent at the Wells house following this conversation at Provost Headquarters, I went to my quarters quite disturbed in heart and mind as to my duty.

With the sweet voice of "Juanita" still ringing in my ears, and the memory of her beautiful eyes seemingly appealing to my tenderest sympathies, I went to bed with my head in a whirl, and dropped into a restless sleep without having settled the question in my own mind satisfactorily as to her father's guilt. There was no question as to the Captain's being entirely competent to pilot or even command such an expedition, and I may as well cut this story short by the frank admission that, had he not been the father of a very pretty girl, I would have jumped at the same conclusion as the officer.

I was, however, unwilling to believe that the father of such an interesting family, all of whom had been born and reared in Pennsylvania, would become the leader of a piratical gang. I concluded at last that I would postpone any action, for a while at least. I could do this with the better grace, as I was not specially engaged in secret service at that time. I rather relished the truth, too, that the failure of the Secretary of War to recognize my former services relieved me from any obligation to act as "spotter" for the Pinkerton detectives.

But after having slept over the matter, and while enjoying a walk the next morning among the neighboring camps, over which floated the "emblem," I suddenly regained my senses, for a little while at least, and made up my mind that it would be worse than traitorous for me, by my silence and apparent association, to permit those Maryland sympathizers to go on and mature a plan to hire a gang of Baltimore plug-uglies to play the pirate on unarmed vessels on the bay, within sight of our armies. I could, at least, put the officials on their guard. I walked back toward my "office," where I briefly wrote the rumor as it had, without my volition, been detailed to me, and at once put the letter in form to reach Mr. Covode through the improvised mail service then existing between Washington and the army of McDowell. I felt better for having done this much. I had also advised Mr. Covode that I was in a position to follow up the matter from this clew, and, if it could be confirmed, I would give the information directly to himself, and no one else. I expect, too, that I was indiscreet enough to have taken this opportunity to ventilate my own rather fresh opinions of Secretary Stanton; because just then I was smarting under his seeming indifference to and neglect of my services and claims. I am sure that my letter contained some unnecessary criticisms on Mr. P. H. Watson, Assistant Secretary, as well as the Secret Service Corps, which was under his direction, and Maj. Eckert, of the Telegraph Corps.

This letter was intended as a private communication to my friend Covode, and I had particularly cautioned him not to permit certain War Department influences to get hold of the rumors, as I wanted to work it out myself. I learned subsequently, to my sorrow, that this personal letter, containing both the information and the criticism, was sent to the War Office at once as an important paper. Anybody will see that it was not only a mistake of my own to have written in this way, but also of Mr. Covode's to have shown it; but it was one of that statesman's "privileges" to mix things up. It probably never occurred to him--as I afterward heard--that the principal effect of the criticisms, coupled with the "information," would be to impress upon the War Department officials the suspicion that Covode had employed me as one of his agents to play the "spy" on our own officials, for the benefit of the Congressional Committee of the War.

I was not very much bothered about the consequences of such things at that time. I was in love, which will account for a good many of my mistakes.

When I went to my newly-found home, at Capt. Wells's house, the evening of the same day on which I had written and mailed this letter, I was received so kindly and courteously into the house by the genial Captain himself, that I began to feel that I had been guilty of an awfully shabby trick in having reported, even privately to Mr. Covode, a private conversation with this Staff officer in regard to mine host.

Indeed, I was feeling so uncomfortable over what seemed to have been an ungracious return for favors received, that I took the first opportunity to get out of the Captain's presence, and, in the seclusion of my room that night, I inwardly resolved that I would, if possible, attempt to modify my report by another letter to follow the first.

The evening was spent in the little parlor, as on the many previous occasions. I was treated as one of the family, and entertained in the most agreeable manner by the accomplished ladies of this happy household. Each night we had music. Of course, Juanita, with the guitar, accompanied by Geno, became one feature of all others that was always so charmingly attractive to me. The Captain himself sang a number of comic songs with good effect, while the elder daughter, Miss Sue, exerted herself in a pleasant way to create a little fun for the company at my own and Geno's expense. Col. Hoffman, Mr. Wilson and myself furnished the only audience, while a happy-faced, brisk little mother supplied the refreshments, and made us all feel at home.

This general attempt at a description of one evening must suffice for the many, many happy days and evenings that I spent in Fredericksburg during the months of McDowell's occupation of that country. As I have previously stated, I could furnish the material for a romance based on wonderful facts connected with my different visits here that would make a large-sized book in itself. This is simply a blunt narrative of fact.

This is an absolutely "true love" story, and I am giving correct names and actual incidents, realizing that I may be talking to some of the survivors of McDowell's army, who may have been "thar or tharabouts".

The Colonel Hoffman referred to above was in command of the regiment that had control of the town at this time. The Colonel having known the Wells family in the North, was glad of the opportunity to meet them, and during his stay in town lived with them in the house with Mr. Wilson and myself. His regiment had been recruited somewhere in the neighborhood of Elmira, New York.

As soon as I could see the Colonel alone, I took the opportunity to tell him the story of the Captain's alleged complicity in the Chesapeake Bay piracy. To my surprise and gratification, he blurted out rather savagely: "I don't believe a word of it. Why, I've known Frank Wells all my life. No one at home ever accused him of any such traits of character as this. Why," continued the Colonel, with a show of disgust, "it's impossible. He couldn't be a disloyal man; he comes of Puritan stock, from away back. I've seen myself a family tombstone up in Long Island which shows that his ancestors were buried there as early as 1671. Why, boy, they came over in the Mayflower."

This seemed to settle it with Colonel Hoffman, but he added, in an explanatory way: "I suppose it's one of those 'Unionists' stories. Every dog who has a grievance against his neighbor, in war times, runs to the nearest Provost-Marshal to get the army on to his enemy. Wells came down here to run his boats on the Rappahannock; that was his business. He tells me that he, with a majority of the citizens here, did not believe there would be a war, or that Virginia would go out of the Union, and, therefore, he did not attempt to get away until it was too late. The Confederates wouldn't let him take his boats North. When our fellows got there, he ran his boats below town to prevent the Rebels burning them, as they did all the rest; and when the gunboats came up the river they allowed a lot of rough sailors to seize and confiscate his boats. Their object was prize money, and it is probably to their interest to create an impression that he was disloyal, that they may secure this money.

I've told Frank he ought to resist this, but he is mad about it; swears they are robbers and thieves; and it is likely he and the girls have given offense in this way to some of our officers."

The Colonel's decided talk fully confirmed me in the belief that the story of the Captain's complicity was the outcome of some personal grievance.

Feeling that I had been guilty of a mean action, in reporting the names to Mr. Covode, I sat down and wrote him the second letter, retracting all that the first contained, and added that the mistake arose from the desire of some enemies of mine, or the Captain, to get me mixed up with the War Department.

I do not remember just what I did write, but if the reader will put himself in my place at that time, or try to realize what an enthusiastic, love-sick boy would be liable to write under such circumstances, in defense of his intended father-in-law, you will be apt to reach the conclusion that I do now, that I put my foot in it badly.

Unfortunately, I did not mail the letter in time to overtake the first one. I was delayed by engaging myself to accompany the ladies the next day on a visit to the grave and monument of the mother of General Washington. As all know, the mother of President Washington lived, died, and is buried in this historic old town. The old house, or all that is left of it, still stands on one of the streets. The tomb and monument is situated on rising ground some distance in the outskirts.

Most of the soldiers of the Army of the Potomac have visited this spot, at least all who were interested in such matters did, who were about Fredericksburg, and it will not be necessary to describe it.

It was arranged that we should make a select picnic party of our visit to the tomb of the Mother of our Country, and, as we expected to make a day of it, one day's rations for a dozen, composed of the usual girls'