neighborhood; and next day, believing the coast was clear, I donned a
summer suit and with a neighbor boy who had been wounded at Shiloh and
invalided home, rode over to visit some young ladies. We had scarcely been
welcomed and were taking a glass of wine when, looking across the lawn, we
saw that the place was being surrounded by a body of blue-coats. The story
of their departure had been a mistake. They were not all gone.

There was no chance of escape. We were placed in a hollow square and
marched across country into camp. Before we got there I had ascertained
that they were Indianians, and I was further led rightly to surmise what we
called in 1860 Douglas Democrats.

My companion, a husky fellow, who looked and was every inch a soldier, was
first questioned by the colonel in command. His examination was brief. He
said he was as good a rebel as lived, that he was only waiting for his
wound to heal to get back into the Confederate Army, and that if they
wanted to hang him for a spy to go ahead.

I was aghast. It was not he that was in danger of hanging, but myself, a
soldier in citizen's apparel within the enemy's lines. The colonel turned
to me. With what I took for a sneer he said:

"I suppose you are a good Union man?" This offered me a chance.

"That depends upon what you call a good Union man," I answered. "I used to
be a very good Union man--a Douglas Democrat--and I am not conscious of
having changed my political opinions."

That softened him and we had an old-fashioned, friendly talk about the
situation, in which I kept the Douglas Democratic end of it well to the