Secrets of the Late Rebellion. Freese Jacob R.

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!