Colonel Woods, who had been called into the room and heard with surprise of my refusal to be released on such a "technicality," merely laughed as he escorted me back to quarters, fully satisfied in his own mind, no doubt, that I was a "case."

The Englishman and Belle Boyd had, of course, heard one side of his story of my "bribery," and, in consequence, became, if possible, more interested than ever in the development of my interesting case.

Realizing from this interview that I was simply at Mr. Stanton's mercy, and that he was most probably influenced by the War Department suckers whom I have mentioned, and who were envious or jealous of my independent and important telegraph or secret communications, I made up my mind that it was going to be a long siege in O. C. P. for me. The more I thought about it, and as each day's scanty news brought us fresh and exciting intelligence of the military doings in front of our army, I concluded impulsively that I _wouldn't_ stay very long; that I _must_ be on hand and once more outside. I would vindicate myself independently of Mr.

Stanton's advisers.

Our mess was served by a caterer from the outside, as I have already explained. The meals were brought in three times a day, on a tray, by a colored boy, or a contraband. I had noticed from my room window that this colored boy came from that direction, and had, in consequence, learned to look out for his appearance as regularly as we got hungry, at each meal time, so that it became a daily question in our mess: "Is dinner in sight yet?"

The same boy brought it every day. He had to pass the quartette of guards in front of the house, and his basket was "subject to inspection"

inside the hall before it could be admitted through the house.

But, as a matter of fact, the inspection became somewhat of a fraud, because the hungry guards selected the best bits of everything by way of sampling the contents, so that we held so many indignation meetings and bothered Colonel Woods so much with protests and complaints, that he was glad enough to arrange with a "trooly loil" cook, whom he could trust to not pack any papers in our grub. In this way our boy was permitted to pass unquestioned, as he became so well known to the regular attendants.

It occurred to me that it would be a good scheme to personate the colored boy, and walk out with the empty dishes, past the guard unquestioned, and so escape from the prison.

Looking up into the colored boy's face, I noticed that his ragged, old, white, straw-hat, always worn well pulled down over his curly head, half concealed a black face that, while it was not exactly similar to my own features, may be set down as being (with the exception of the black) about my "style," in age and general appearance, if I should black my face.

Playfully at first, I suggested to Belle Boyd a scheme of exchanging places with the boy, coloring my face, dressing in his coat and hat, and attempting to walk out with his tray.

She looked at the boy, then at me, and, with a hearty laugh, declared: "It's the very thing; let's do it."

Mr. English was, of course, consulted, and graciously gave his assent to the undertaking, provided he was allowed to "make me up," and to boss the job generally.

This suggestion was fully discussed between us during that and the days that followed; indeed, we talked of little else for a while. How to conceal the boy, inside, until I should get safely out of reach of the guards, was the most difficult part of the problem. The trouble that would ensue from my friend's complicity, if he should be detected, was also fully discussed, and a plausible way out of all these difficulties was arranged.

I was to borrow or buy from the boy, his old hat and coat, and the patched pants and torn shoes I would manufacture.

I was to be already blackened when he should come in, at a certain evening meal, that was usually served nearly at dark. While he was waiting on our table I was quickly to don his hat and coat, and, with the empty basket of rattling dishes, to boldly march out, as he had been in the habit of doing, into the street, and then trust to my legs for the balance. We were a long time in arranging all the details. Indeed, the occupation it gave to us all helped to pleasantly pass hours that might otherwise have been distressing.

Belle Boyd was as much interested in my outfit as any school-girl is over the dressing up of her new doll, while the Englishman gave me enough instructions and orders to carry me around the world. He was certainly an adept in the business.

During my three weeks at the Old Capitol Prison, I made a number of peculiar acquaintances that were quite interesting in the year which followed. As I am only to furnish that which pertains to myself personally, I will omit the mention of any other except to record my first acquaintance with a most universally-known war character.

The party to whom I refer will be recognized by every soldier, I may say without a single exception, in all the armies. I regret very much that I can not give his name in Latin, but in war talk it was the "Greyback,"

or, in plain United States--lice.

These detestable things were in Old Capitol as thick as they only can be, and, after my first contact, I may say frankly, they stuck to me closer than a brother "for three years or during the war." This was one of the "things" that "animated" me to get out of that dirty old building, that I might rush down to the Potomac and drown myself.

Old Capitol is now a beautiful block of fine residences, containing, to-day, probably as fine and as luxurious furniture and occupied by as refined people as are in the country, but, personally, I wouldn't live in it for anything, because I feel sure the bugs are in the walls yet.

The plan I proposed was entirely feasible; we all agreed on that; not one of us doubted but that I would be able to successfully accomplish the dangerous undertaking. It was dangerous only if I should be detected in the attempt, as it would certainly end in my being sent off to Fort Lafayette in New York Harbor, where I would probably be ironed and placed in a dungeon as a dangerous character, and be kept there, too, during the war. It never once occurred to me that to have been caught in attempting to escape, or to have succeeded in doing so, would have reacted against me disastrously, to the satisfaction of those who were so anxious that I should afford them some proof by which they might be able to more fully substantiate the charges of supposed disloyalty, that they had whispered into the ear of the Secretary of War. It was quite an easy matter in those days for the suckers, like Woods, Eckert, and the gang of Pinkerton suckers, and others, who were around the War Department, to poison the mind of the powers that were against any persons they may have selected as a target for their contemptible and cowardly persecution. It's a true story, well known among historians, that this was being done--in many cases where the victims were often men of great prominence and rank, that subsequent events proved to have been as loyal as the Secretary himself.

The Englishman's story, that I gathered from his continual gabble, would make a chapter in itself. I will only mention now that he was apparently in the service of at least some official of great prominence in the English Government. He told us of letters of introduction he brought to President Jefferson Davis and a number of the leading officers of the Rebel Government at Richmond; from ever so many "my lords" of high degree in England.

It was while endeavoring to reach Richmond through the Potomac blockade that he was captured, and, to his great disgust, all of his papers were "seized," as he said, "by some brutal soldiers, you know," and the vulgar officers absolutely declined to return his papers, and had actually been so preposterous as to send him under guard to "a vile prison."

That's about the style of his everlasting chin--from morning until night--and the fact that his accent, as well as his foreign airs of superiority and of contempt for the Yankees, necessarily accompanied the words, made him all the more disagreeable to me.

The most interesting part of his story is, as he in an unguarded moment, apparently, while talking with Miss Boyd, who had expressed a curiosity to know why he did not attempt to escape, too, confessed that the real object and purpose of his mission in this country, as he had been instructed before leaving England by his friend, was to purposely place himself in the way of arrest and imprisonment by the United States Government.

His papers were not of an incendiary character exactly, I suppose, and my recollection of it now is, that they were principally letters of introduction, which were prepared by English lords with the avowed purpose of being used by the bearer in making a "case," or difficulty, on account of his English citizenship, which would give them some grounds to make a claim for his release, that would create a breach, and bring about a war, all in the interests of the Southern people. This, in effect, was the story, and I took it all in very carefully.

One day, to my disgust as well as personal discomfort, Colonel Woods brought a gentleman to my door, whom he introduced as a fellow Rebel who would be compelled to share my room with me for awhile; because, as he explained, they were getting a little crowded. The party introduced to me, I recognized at once--that is I remembered seeing his face some place, but couldn't exactly place him; when Colonel Woods in a little further chat, intimated that my associate would no doubt be a boon companion, as he was an original Rebel, he left us alone.

My new room-mate was a man of thirty-five or forty years, with a face that I should now denominate as hard. He was pleasant; indeed, his manner was made especially agreeable to me. The story he told me of the cause of his imprisonment served to satisfy me--for the time being--that I had been in error in having supposed that I had ever seen him before.

He said he was arrested for having been implicated in an attempt to recapture and return to Virginia some fugitive slave whom he had caught in the District of Columbia. He gave me a long account of the law, as it then existed--which, by the way, is the fact--that in 1862 there was a fugitive slave law in the District.

As soon as my two comrades in distress heard of this associate having been thrust upon us, and dropped into our exclusive mess to become our company, their suspicions were aroused.

The Englishman declared that the object of putting "this person" in among us was to ascertain what we had been so thick about lately. I confess this had not once occurred to me. I was simply annoyed at being obliged to have the constant company of another person in my cramped little hall room; not that he was at all disagreeable personally, but probably because we three had become rather exclusive and wanted to select our company from among the convicts. It is likely enough that we would have resented any person's society from outside just then.

When the others expressed their conviction that it was a scheme to entrap us, my eyes became opened, as I recalled again my first impression, that I had certainly seen the man before. When I mentioned this fact to Miss Boyd, she at once jumped to the conclusion that he was a spy on us, which opinion was shared by the Englishman most decidedly, who gave us our orders as our commander to be on the _qui vive_ for him.

It was thought best that we should treat him with the greatest possible coolness, but of course with decency. Indeed, our Englishman was so exceedingly polite and gracious to the new-comer that his assumed airs and comic actions were so amusing to Miss Boyd and myself that we could scarcely keep up our show of dignity. Miss Boyd performed the chilling process, and she acted the part so well that the poor man was frozen on to me, as the only one to whom he could talk sensibly. I talked lots to him when we were alone. The opinions, the very decided opinions, he got from me, on Mr. Stanton and his clerks, if repeated to his employers, would have made things more interesting for him and me too.

When I became satisfied, or thought I was, and imagined that I had for my room-mate or companion a Pinkerton man, who had been purposely sent in there by some of the War Department officials to manufacture testimony against us, we all took the greatest delight in filling him up.

The first night, when alone, I talked him to sleep. I told him all my grievances; at least, that part that I wanted the War Office to hear officially.

I was careful to only tell one story correctly, and that was the exact character and object of the Englishman's business in this country. I saw that my listener was interested in it from his actions and questionings, so that I gave him the full details, for a purpose. I knew, or suspected very strongly, that he would make a report of it to the Secretary, and I, as a victim of the Pinkerton clique, was willing that they, as detectives, should have the credit from the Secretary of unearthing that story.

My desire was to defeat the Englishman's purpose, and to benefit this Government, whose officials were persecuting me when I knew that I was entitled to a reward.

We made him sick; at least, the following day he complained of feeling unwell, and, under this pretense, he was allowed to go, ostensibly to the hospital, which was located in another part of the building.

His name was Horton or Norton, I have forgotten which. I learned, in a couple weeks following, that he was the detective we had suspected him of being. When I mentioned to my brother, that I had seen him before, he told me that I had probably met him in Eckert's telegraph room, at the War Office, where he had been specially employed.

[Illustration: IN OLD CAPITOL PRISON--DISGUISED AS A CONTRABAND.]

When relieved of our unwelcome guest, we set about with renewed energy to put into operation the plan we had now about matured for my escape.

Miss Belle Boyd entered into the preparations for this scheme as school-girls plan their tableaux.

Her quick manner, or apt way of being able to change the subject of conversation, in case of occasional interruption was, to me, a source of great astonishment coupled with admiration.

One evening, by way of experiment, I was, with the assistance of Belle Boyd and the Englishman, completely rigged out in the colored boy's clothes. Corks had been gathered up and scientifically toasted, or burnt, over the lamp flame by our Englishman, who handled the business so familiarly that I am constrained now to think he was a disguised showman instead of a scion of a noble family.

I was dressed in the rags we had collected for the purpose, Belle managing this part of the job with as much glee and interest as if dressing a bride for a wedding. She would stick a pin in here, or tuck up a rag at another place, look at me critically, order me to turn around or walk off, as if I were trying on a new dress. The Englishman rubbed my face, and, after the manner of an artist, cocked his eye to get a better view of the effect of the last touch of shade, and then both would nearly explode with suppressed laughter at my ridiculous appearance.

I was instructed in the best way to show all my teeth at once, duly cautioned not to speak unless I was obliged to, and drilled in the broadest negro dialect, to which I was somewhat accustomed through my long residence in the South.

When all was satisfactory, after dark, the curtain was rang up and I was ushered out into the hundreds of assembled prisoners to try my disguise, by mixing promiscuously among them for a while. I entered boldly into the fun, and, with the feeling that, if detected, it would only be considered a good joke, as long as I was not attempting to use it as a means to pass the guard, I, in a happy, careless way, went through my part in such a satisfactory manner that even Miss Boyd and the Englishman, who were intently watching the play, involuntarily applauded me every time I happened to do a piece of silly business that tickled them.

As an amateur actor, my debut on that sort of a dangerous stage was satisfactory to the two patrons who were managing the "bringing me out."

I stepped up to Miss Boyd, who had been standing on the balcony watching the play, bowed low, and, in as broad a dialect as I could muster, requested her order for breakfast. She, in her quick way, had a smart reply:

"Sam, you ugly, good-for-nothing nigger, tell your master to use a scrubbing brush on you before you come to me again."