CHAPTER XX.THE ESCAPE FROM COLUMBIA.

Under siege. — Charleston Jail. — The Stars and Stripes. — Federal compliments. — Under the guns. — Roper Hospital. — Yellow Jack. — Sisters of Charity. — Rebel Christianity. — A Byronic stanza. — Charleston to Columbia. — "Camp Sorghum." — Nemesis. — Another dash for liberty. — Murder of Lieutenants Young and Parker. — Studying topography. — A vaticination. — Back to reality.

The next we see of Lieutenant Glazier is in the city of Charleston, South Carolina, on the twelfth of September, 1864. Coming Street on the morning of that day was crowded with people of every variety of calling, from the priest and sister of charity, out on their merciful errands, to the riff-raff andsans-culottesout on no errand at all but to help the excitement. The city was under siege.

At the end of the street a body of six hundred emaciated, broken-spirited, ragged men, escorted by a strong guard, marched along, and the busiest of the pedestrians paused to gaze upon them as they passed. Coarse and scurrilous was the greeting the captives received from the motley and shameless groups. A few of the more respectable citizens, however, spoke words of grace to them, and some added hopeful predictions of the final triumph of the Union cause. The prisoners were hurried forward to the yard of Charleston Jail, where for the first time in many weary months they beheld the glorious flag of their country floating in the breeze over Morris Island. Weak as they werethe patriotic sentiment was still strong within and they gave one rousing cheer! Some, despite the curses of their guard, dancing like children, while others wept tears of joy.

Charleston Jail—charleston, South Carolina.CHARLESTON JAIL—CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA.

CHARLESTON JAIL—CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA.

The jail, as Captain Glazier describes it, was a large octagonal building of four stories, surmounted by a tower. In the rear was a large workshop, in appearance like a bastile, where some of the prisoners were confined. As a lugubrious accessory to his own quarters, he had a remarkably clear view of a gallows, erected directly in front of his fragment of a tent. "The ground floor of the jail was occupied by ordinary criminal convicts; the second story by Confederate officers and soldiers, under punishment for military offences; the third by negro prisoners, and the fourth by Federal and Confederate deserters, and it is complimentary to the good sense of the rebels that deserters fromeitherside were treated by them with equal severity." He gives a sad account of the terrible condition of the negro soldiers and their officers who were captured at Fort Wagner, and says the hospital at this place was "a lazar-house of indescribable misery."

On the twenty-second of September, Glazier makes the following note on the progress of the siege:

"Shelling is kept up vigorously. From sixty to a hundred huge, smoking two-hundred-pounders convey Federal compliments daily to the doomed city."

It appears, however, that, for the most part, the destructive effects of this bombardment were confined to what was known as the "burnt district," and caused little damage to the inhabited portion of the city.

Seven days after the above entry in his journal hisheart was gladdened by an order for removal, with his fellow-prisoner and messmate, Lieutenant Richardson, to Roper Hospital; a place much more tolerable as to its situation and appointments, though still within shell-range of the bombarding force. Prior to the transfer, a parole was obtained from each, by which they pledged themselves, while in their new quarters, to make no attempt to escape.

Here our prisoner found opportunity under the usual restrictions for writing the following letter home:

[Only one page allowed.]C. S. Military Prison,Charleston, South Carolina,Roper Hospital,October 4th, 1864.My Dear Mother:For a long time you have doubtless waited with anxiety some intelligence of your absent son, which would tell you of his health, and his prospects of release from the disagreeable restraints of prison life; and I am now delighted to find this opportunity of writing to you. Since my last letter, which was dated at Libby Prison, I have been confined at Danville, Virginia; Macon and Savannah, Georgia; and at this point. My health for the most part has been very poor, which I attribute to the inactivity of prison life. I have also suffered much for want of clothing. I have a pair of shoes on to-day that I bought more than a year ago; have run about barefoot for days and weeks during the past summer; many of my comrades have been compelled to do the same. I do not look for ageneral exchangebefore winter, though I hope and pray that it may take place to-morrow. There is now an opportunity for sending boxes to prisoners. I should be glad to receive one from home if convenient. Please give my love to all the family circle. Remember me to my friends, and believe me everYour affectionate son,Willard.

[Only one page allowed.]

C. S. Military Prison,

Charleston, South Carolina,

Roper Hospital,October 4th, 1864.

My Dear Mother:

For a long time you have doubtless waited with anxiety some intelligence of your absent son, which would tell you of his health, and his prospects of release from the disagreeable restraints of prison life; and I am now delighted to find this opportunity of writing to you. Since my last letter, which was dated at Libby Prison, I have been confined at Danville, Virginia; Macon and Savannah, Georgia; and at this point. My health for the most part has been very poor, which I attribute to the inactivity of prison life. I have also suffered much for want of clothing. I have a pair of shoes on to-day that I bought more than a year ago; have run about barefoot for days and weeks during the past summer; many of my comrades have been compelled to do the same. I do not look for ageneral exchangebefore winter, though I hope and pray that it may take place to-morrow. There is now an opportunity for sending boxes to prisoners. I should be glad to receive one from home if convenient. Please give my love to all the family circle. Remember me to my friends, and believe me ever

Your affectionate son,

Willard.

The days passed anxiously with Glazier, when the yellow fever began its inroads upon the prisoners.He had now, at the same moment, to face death at the hands of man, and by the pestilence—a condition of things to which the bravest spirit might succumb. One great source of consolation was derived from the visits of the Sisters of Charity, who were always found where suffering and peril prevailed. Writing of these angelic women, Captain Glazier says:—"Confined as we are, so far away from every home comfort and influence, and from all that makes life worth living, how quickly do we notice the first kind word, the passing friendly glance! Can any prisoner confined here ever forget the 'Sisters of Charity?' Ask the poor private now suffering in the loathsome hospital so near us, while burning with fever, or racked with pain, if he can forget the kind look, the gracious word given him by that sister. Many are the bunches of grapes—many the sip of their pure juice, that the sufferer gets from her hands. They seem, theyare'ministering angels;' and while all around us are our avowed enemies, they remain true to every instinct of womanhood. They dare lift the finger to help, they do relieve many a sufferer. All through the South our sick and wounded soldiers have had reason to bless the 'Sisters of Charity.' They have ministered to their wants and performed those kind womanly offices which are better to the sick than medicine, and are so peculiarly soothing to the dying. These noble women have attended their sick-beds when otherChristianladies of the South looked on unpityingly, and turned away without even tendering the cheap charity of a kind word.Theyhave done what others were too scornful and cruel to do—they have done what others did not dare do. Theywere, for some inscrutable reason, permitted to bestow their charities wherever charities were needed. Their bounties were bestowed indiscriminately on Federal and Confederate sufferers, and evidenced a broad philanthropy untainted by party-feeling or religious bigotry. Many a poor soldier has followed them from ward to ward with tearful eyes.... Were other Christian denominations in the South as active in aiding us as the Catholics have been, I might have some faith in 'Rebel Christianity.'"

This is no mean tribute to the beneficent influences of the Catholic church, albeit the pen of a Protestant records it; but the facts fully justify him. Protestant England hadone—the Church of Rome has herlegionsof Florence Nightingales. They are found in the camp, and the hospital, and the prison—wherever human sympathy can palliate human suffering; they are to be found where even wives and mothers flee before the dreaded pestilence, and these ministers of divine love, like light and air, and the dews of Heaven, visit alike the rich and poor, the sinner and the saint; the only claim they recognize being the claim of suffering and misfortune.

Willard Glazier remainedunder the gunsof his friends until the fifth of October, and during his sojourn here had various opportunities of forming an acquaintance with vagrant shot and shell that struck or exploded near the hospital building, but fortunately did no greater damage to its inmates than create "a scare."

What was much more serious was the prevalence of the deadly fever, which was of a most malignant type, and carried off, among its many victims, the Confederate commander and his adjutant. The prisoners therefore were removed—the authorities assigning as their reason for the step, the "danger to which they would be exposed on account of the fever;" and although, at the time, it appeared an anomaly to the prisoners, "after bringing them there to be murdered by their own guns, to remove them for the purpose of saving them from death in another shape,"—yet it is possible such was the case. At all events they were removed, and their "Poet Laureate"—Lieutenant Ogden, of Wisconsin—wrote a farewell poem, containing among others, the following "Byronic" stanza:

"Thy Sanctuaries are forsaken now;Dark mould and moss cling to thy fretted towers;Deep rents and seams, where struggling lichens grow,And no sweet voice of prayer at vestal hours;But voice of screaming shot and bursting shell,Thy deep damnation and thy doom foretell.The 'fire' has left a pile of broken walls,And Night-hags revel in thy ruined halls!"

Who will say that a dread Nemesis has not overtaken the metropolis of the Palmetto State? Streets, once the busy scene of commerce and industry, now covered with grass, in this city of secession—formerly the head and front of treason and rebellion and the defiant advocate of human slavery!

Escorted by the Thirty-second Georgia Volunteers, Glazier and his fifteen hundred companions were marched through the principal streets of the city to the depot, where they took the cars for Columbia, the State capital. None will ever forget the parade of ragged and bearded men through King Street. But the Georgian guards, while strictly attentive to duty,showed the politeness and demeanor of gentlemen. He says of them, at this point in the history of his imprisonment, "the Georgia troops seem to be by far the most civil and gentlemanly of all the Southern army. They were the most respectable in appearance, most intelligent and liberal in conversation, and to a greater extent than others, recognized the principle that a man is a man under whatever circumstances he may be placed, and is entitled to humane treatment. They very generally addressed the prisoners as 'gentlemen.'"

The same kind of unventilated and filthy cattle-cars were employed in their transportation as had been used in their various previous removals. All suffered from want of water, air and space. The arrival of the captives at Columbia took place in the midst of a drenching rain-storm, and during the entire night, with scarcely any clothing, no rations, and no shelter, they were exposed to the merciless elements, while not twenty yards off, in front of their camping ground, glared the muzzles of a park of loaded artillery. The prisoners, being in a starving condition, looked the picture of despair. A discovery however was made of some bacon suspended to the rafters of the building that enclosed them, in one corner separated by a partition. As the famished men looked through the bars of a window and saw this tempting food, their eyes watered, and their inventive faculties were aroused. Hooks, strings and poles were brought into requisition, and in a short time most of the meat, by Yankee talent, was transferred from the rafters of the building to the stomachs of the prisoners!

The day following, they were moved to a spot abouttwo miles from the town, and bivouacked in an open field, without any shelter whatever. Surrounded by the usual cordon of sentries, and menaced with the customary "dead-line," they were turned loose to provide for themselves, neither axe, spade, nor cooking utensils being supplied them. Two days after their arrival some corn-meal andsorghumwere issued, the latter a substitute for molasses. A great many suffered from diarrhœa and dysentery in consequence, and the place from this circumstance acquired the sobriquet of "Camp Sorghum."

They had no quarters to protect them from the cold November storms, only huts constructed by themselves of brush and pine boughs. The treatment at "Camp Sorghum" was so exceptionally brutal, that almost every dark night starving men would run the guard and risk their lives to escape dying by inches. Sometimes as many as thirty or forty would run in one night. Generally some daring fellow would act asforlorn hopeand rush past the sentries, drawing their fire, at the imminent risk of forfeiting his own life, his comrades joining him before the guards could reload their rifles. The latter would then fire a volley into the camp, killing or wounding some of the prisoners. Lieutenant Young, of the Fourth Pennsylvania Cavalry, was thus shot dead whilst sitting at his hut, and according to Captain Glazier, "no reason for this atrocity was apparent, and none was assigned by the guards." The poor young fellow had been a prisoner twenty-two months. About this time the guards accidentally killed two of their own men, in their reckless and savage shooting, and afterwards observed more care in firing at the prisoners.

Hounds were kept near the prison to track escaped fugitives. Lieutenant Parker, while attempting to escape, was so much torn and bitten by these dogs that he died the day after his recapture.

Mingled with thoughts of home, and the friends gathered around loved firesides, there had by this time arisen in young Glazier's mind a stern determination to win his freedom, or, in the effort, forfeit his life.

As the weather grew colder, the possession of wood became a matter of necessity, and some of the prisoners were paroled to pass beyond the lines, and gather such broken branches and pieces of bark in the neighboring woods as they could carry back into camp. Glazier availed himself of this privilege, and stored up an abundance of fuel. But a more important acquisition than fuel to him was the knowledge he obtained of the topography of the surrounding country. One great difficulty he foresaw in getting away arose from the sorry condition of his shoes, which were nearly soleless. He succeeded, however, in obtaining the rim of an old regulation-hat, and out of this fashioned a serviceable pair of soles for his worn-out brogans, and thus removed one obstacle from his path.

We need feel no surprise that he and many of his companions thought no risk too great to run for the chance of effecting their escape. Their treatment by this time had become so bad as to be almost unendurable. For example, to avoid being frozen to death, they were compelled to run around all night, and only when the sun arose in the morning dare they venture to recline themselves on the ground to sleep. The truth is, that our friend, in common with many of his comrades, had arrived at the desperate conclusion that nofate, even death by shooting, or by hounds, could be worse than the misery and suffering he was now enduring. It was not alone that they were starved and shelterless, sick and unattended, nearly naked, with no hope of being clad; it was not alone that they were immersed, day and night, in filth and squalor like hogs, with no prospect of relief to cheer them; but, in addition to all this suffering of their own, they were compelled to witness the sufferings of others—to hear their sighs and groans, and look upon faces that hard usage and despair had made ghastly and terrible. They would greet in the morning a man sick and emaciated perhaps, but still a human being, erect and in God's image, who, in the evening of the same day, would disappear from among them, making a desperate dash for freedom. The following day a broken, nerveless, shivering wretch would be dragged into their midst, blood-stained, faint, and with the gashes of a blood-hound's teeth covering his face and throat.

Thus it was that existence became unbearable. Their own sufferings were hard, but to continue for many long months looking upon the sufferings of others added to their misery beyond endurance. Accordingly, when Thanksgiving-day arrived, and the excitement created by Sherman's "march to the sea" had reached its highest point, Glazier and a fellow-prisoner, named Lieutenant Lemon, determined thattheywould wait no longer the slow process of tunneling, but make a bold effort for liberty—or die in the attempt.

"It was customary," says the former, "to extend the guard-line in the morning for the purpose of allowing prisoners (as previously stated) to collectfuel on a piece of timbered land just opposite the camp, and it was our intention this morning to take a shovel, when permitted to pass to the woods, and make a hole in the ground large enough to receive our two 'skeletons,' and then enlist the services of some friend, who would cover us up with brush and leaves, so that, when the guard was withdrawn, we would be left without the camp." The plan looked feasible, and, if successful, it would not be a difficult matter to reach Augusta, Georgia, at which point they hoped to find themselves within Sherman's lines. The fates, however, decreed otherwise. Their scheme was rendered abortive by the simple fact, that upon that particular morning, the line was not extended at all. Why it was not, is purely a matter of conjecture. Possibly, "the morning being unusually cold and raw," the guard did not care to leave their own snug tents along the line of the encampment, with no greater inducement than that of increasing the comfort of their Yankee prisoners, who, for that day, were left without any fires at all; but, be this as it may, the guard-line was not extended as was usual, and thus the plot of our young friends was frustrated for the time being. They agreed to "watch, prayand act" at the very first opportunity that presented. It was not long before that opportunity came.

Early upon the day following that of their disappointment, the conspirators arranged that each should make a reconnaissance of the lines, discover the weak points of the enemy, and, that being accomplished, rendezvous at a given spot, ready to act upon any likely plan that might suggest itself to them. Glazier had become a tolerably expert physiognomist, andsingled out an unsophisticated-looking giant, who was patrolling a certain beat, as the best man among the line of sentries on whom to practise an imposition. This individual was evidently a good-natured lout, not long in the service, and very much resembling our conception of "Jonas Chuzzlewit," in respect to his having been "put away and forgotten for half a century." It is only necessary to add that his owners "had stuck a musket in his hand, and placed him on guard." Yet there was some pluck in him. He was just the sort of man who, led by a good officer, would fight like a lion, but whose animal instincts had so befogged his intellect that, if left to his own resources, he would be as likely to ruin friend as foe.

The Escape From Columbia—crossing The Dead Line.THE ESCAPE FROM COLUMBIA—CROSSING THE DEAD LINE.

THE ESCAPE FROM COLUMBIA—CROSSING THE DEAD LINE.

When Glazier rejoined his comrade, he described this man, and the friends agreed that they would boldly cross the "dead-line" immediately in front of him, be ready to answer promptly his challenge, and, by the audacity of their movement, attempt to deceive him in regard to their real character and purpose. With such a man as they had to deal with, this scheme was certain to result in one of two things: he would let them pass, or he would kill them both; therefore, courage andsang-froidwere matters of first necessity.

Accordingly, with the utmost coolness, and laughing and chatting together, they sauntered up to and upon the fatal line. The sentinel looked at them in amazement. He then brought his piece to bear upon Glazier completely covering his person, and, with the usual order to "Halt!" added: "Whar in hell are you going, Yanks?" As if his dignity was seriously offended by this demand, our hero answered thisquestion by asking another: "Do you halt paroled prisoners here?" "His meek 'No, sir!'" Glazier relates, "was not yet lost in the distance when I boldly crossed the dreaded line, adding: 'Then let my friend in the rear follow me;' and so we passed, while the sentinel murmured 'All right!' And right it was, for now we were free, breathing the fresh air, untainted by the breath of hundreds of famishing, diseased and dying men."

They could not proceed very far without falling in with numbers of the paroled prisoners. This they did, but their presence excited no suspicion or comment, as they assumed to belong to the party. They applied themselves to gathering wood and piling it apparently for transportation, and gradually crept on and on until they reached a point beyond the vision of the gray-jackets, when off they started at the top of their speed; and although before long they were compelled to reduce their pace, they put several miles behind them in a space of time that at any other period of their lives, or under any other circumstances, would have seemed impossible. Pausing to regain breath, they turned, andColumbiawas no longer within sight. This, in itself, was a relief, for the place was associated in their minds with the intense misery they had suffered within its boundaries.

Could these men haveforeseenthe not very distant future, they would have known that every sigh and groan that cruelty had wrung from them in that place of torture would be avenged; they would have seen loyal soldiers swarming in its streets, their old comrades in misery torn from the grasp of their merciless jailers, and the soulless "Southern Chivalry" thrust intotheir place; they would have seen red-handed vengeance doom that city of blood to destruction, and the glaring tongues of fire lap up the costly goods and edifices of its vile and relentless citizens; and those who had no mercy for them in their wretchedness and famine, now awe-struck on finding that the men they had so barbarously trampled upon had now the power and the will to retort upon them with interest; they would have seen brothers in arms, who until now had been merciful to their enemies when in their power, suddenly transformed into ravenous wolves, fierce and terrible in their righteous wrath at the treatment their less fortunate brothers had met with in this city of blood. The Avenger had come! and not one house but would fall a smouldering heap of ruins. They would have foreseen this city ablaze with burning homes for its sins against humanity; its men, so lately drunk with pride and satiated with cruelty to their countrymen; its women divested of all womanly attributes, and invested with those of demons,nowall cowed and humbled in the dust! They would have seen one noted instance of the interference of a just Providence that occurred amid all this dreadful saturnalia—a woman, pale, but beautiful of feature, delicate of form, madly rushing to and fro in front of her blazing house, crying for her child that lay within it. They would have seen a poor, emaciated prisoner, roused to exhibit strength and courage by the hope of saving life, rush in and drag the cradle and its innocent living freight from the very jaws of death, while burning rafters crashed and fell upon him; they would have seen him place the babe in its mother's arms, and they would have seen that mother turn with streamingeyes to thank the saviour of her child,and then start back conscience-smitten, and scream and fall, seeing in her child's preserver a man who in the prison had once implored her for a piece of bread because he was starving, and she spat upon him because he was of Northern race!! Could they have seen the future of the coming months, they would have seen all this and more. But no such prevision was vouchsafed them. Their thoughts were now of themselves. They felt that the shade of a deadly peril encompassed them. Columbia and its prison were hidden from their sight, but still they were so near that at any moment the hounds might scent them, and if recaptured, all the horrors they had undergone would be light compared with the fate they must submit to in the future.

Fortunately for the purpose of our fugitives, the settlements, whether towns or villages, in that part of the country, were "few and far between." The residences of the planters were also distant from each other and few in number, and the ravines and swamps which abound there, while in many respects disagreeable and dangerous lurking spots, were still the safest refuges for hunted men. The wilder the country, the better it promised to Glazier and his comrade fleeing for their lives. Their greatest fear was the dreaded blood-hound. Our friends knew they could defeat most of the devices of human ingenuity in tracking them, but they were apprehensive that the instinct of the brutes, which a depraved humanity had enlisted in its service, might render abortive all their plans and precautions. They did their best, however, to baffle their canine foes, and nightfall found them hurrying forward on the Lexington Court-house Road.

Mysterious voices. — "I reckon deys Yankees." — "Who comes there?" — The Lady of the Manor. — A weird spectacle. — The struggle through the swamp. — A reflection on Southern swamps in general. — "Tired nature's sweet restorer."

The attention of the fugitives was suddenly arrested by the sound of human voices in their immediate rear. It occurred to both at once to discover as quickly as possible if the speakers were white or black, and they accordingly listened in the hope of learning their color by their dialect. This was by no means easy, the vernacular of the poorer class of whites in that section of the country very much resembling the ordinary dialect of the negroes. The comrades, however, concluded to risk a halt until the strangers came up. Glazier then saluted them with the remark that it was "a pleasant night," with the view of drawing them out before committing himself. "Indeed 'tis!" was the reply. This failed to convey the desired information as to the color of the strangers, and they thought it wiser to hurry forward than prolong the conversation at some risk to their safety. Before they had advanced many steps, however, they were agreeably surprised by hearing one of the same party remark to another, "I reckon deys Yankees," followed by the response, "Golly, I hope to God dey is!" Glazier immediately turned and inquired, "Do youknow who I am?" "I reckon I dunno yer, massa," was the reply. "Have you ever seen a Yankee?" asked Glazier. "Lord bress yer, marser, I've seen a right smart heap ov um down at Clumby." "Well," said Glazier, "do we look like them?" "How'n de debbil can I tell dat in de dark, marser?" answered the now unmistakable negro, "but I spec' yer talk jest like' em." "We are Yankees," responded Glazier, "and have just escaped from Columbia. My good fellow, can't you do something for us?" "Ob course!" said our colored friend, promptly. "I'll do all I can for you, marster. I no nigga if I didn't 'sist de Yankees."

The Escape—fed By Negroes In A Swamp.THE ESCAPE—FED BY NEGROES IN A SWAMP.

THE ESCAPE—FED BY NEGROES IN A SWAMP.

The fugitives had heard so much from their fellow-prisoners of the sympathy exhibited by the colored people of the South for Federal soldiers, that they hesitated not for a moment to place the fullest confidence in these humble friends. They thereupon explained their precise situation, and told them the story of their recent escape. They also learned from the negroes that they were returning to their masters, having come from Columbia, where they had been working upon a new prison stockade, now abandoned on account of the expected approach of General Sherman.

The name of their "Master" was Steadman, and, slave-fashion, one of the men was named "Ben Steadman." They were directing their steps to Mr. Steadman's plantation on the Augusta Road, and the fugitives therefore decided to keep in their company and use them as guides. In the nature of things, unless guided by some one accustomed to traveling in a country so bare of landmarks, they would lose ground continually, even if they ever reached their destination.

One of the negroes with that shrewdness engendered by slavery, in which cunning is the only protection against injury; and strength and courage count for nothing; suggested that so large a party would attract attention, and the safety of the two officers might be endangered. It was therefore finally determined that Ben should act as guide, and the other darkies take a different route home. Another advantage to be derived from dividing the party was that in the event of the fugitives being pursued, the double trail would mystify the hounds. Ere long Ben reached a bridle-path, which plunged into the wood, and as it offered superior advantages on account of its narrowness and privacy, and from the fact of its leading to the plantation of a well-known planter and therefore less likely to be suspected of being the road taken by escaped prisoners, the little party concluded that this was their safest route. They therefore hurried forward upon their way, Ben preceding them in the double capacity of guide and scout. A few miles from its commencement this path led to a blind road, which Ben informed them was seldom traveled by any in the night-time but men of his own race, so they turned into it, and had become quite joyful and careless, when suddenly the challenge, "Who goes there?" rang out in the stillness, and the next moment Ben was halted by the sentry of a Confederate picket consisting of eight men, who had bivouacked just off the road. Ben boldly advanced, and our two friends, it must be admitted, with more discretion than valor, started off like lightning, their "guide" meanwhile amusing the guard with a description of how "Dem two oder dam niggas got skeered, kase dey thought Mars Sentinel must be a dam Yank!"

No harm could come to Ben, as he was in a condition to prove that two other negroes had left Columbia with him, and the fugitives therefore feeling thathewas safe, concealed themselves among the brush and awaited events. Ben shortly passed their place of hiding, in custody,en routeto the Reserve, and our friends were not a little amused, despite their danger, to hear Ben's vigorous denunciation of "dem two cowardly niggas," who had taken to their heels!

A few moments only elapsed before they were made aware, by certain unmistakable tokens, that they were in dangerous proximity to the Confederate encampment, and although nearly famished, for they had eaten nothing since morning, it was deemed safest to lieperdu; so, thanking the good Providence which had sped them thus far on their journey, they lay down and slept.

The enemy's camp, which upon closer inspection, turned out to be simply the resting-place of a local patrol, unconnected with any regular command, broke up early in the morning, and Glazier and his companion once more had a clear road. Although hungry from long fasting, they ran swiftly over the swampy ground, and felt so elated to find themselves again in a state of freedom, that they laughed and joked like boys released from school, and pushed on until the verge of an extensive morass was reached and passed, and they found themselves in a section of country well wooded and watered, the alternate hills and vales presenting a pleasing variety to the eye.

Pursuit Of Knowledge Under Difficulties.PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE UNDER DIFFICULTIES.

PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE UNDER DIFFICULTIES.

There was here also a public road, but it would have been dangerous to travel thereon, and they therefore strode on beneath the trees and umbrageous undergrowth of the wood. Having had no breakfast,"blueberries" were not precisely the diet they would have selected for dinner, but asnecessitas non habet leges, they quietly munched their berries, and we may hope felt grateful that matters were no worse. After a while they made a sudden detour, crossing the high-road, and by so doing, again broke the trail. Next they came to a clearing, but the sight of a planter leaning against a fence, soon sent them back to the friendly shelter of the wood. Late in the afternoon they came to a large plantation on the border of which was a copse, in which they lay down and watched for the opportunity of communicating with some of the house slaves. At the expiration of about an hour, a lady, probably the mistress of the estate, passed within a few yards of them, accompanied by a troupe of merry children. They however went on their way, utterly unconscious of the close proximity of two terrible Yankees!

Here our fugitives remained quietly concealed until night, and then cautiously crept away. They proceeded onward until they found themselves near a junction of cross-roads. Arrived at this junction, matters looked serious. Unlike mariners, they had no compass; unlike Indians, they were inexpert at discerning a trail; and what was more appalling, they distinctly saw reared up against the moonlit sky—a gallows! Our two friends approached this object very cautiously. It was not an unusual thing to hang spies, and not unfrequently thosemistakenfor spies, but to hang them on a regularly constructed gibbet was not usual; and therefore while Lemon insisted that the black and skeleton-like object that loomed against the horizon was a gallows, he still entertained some doubtupon the subject, and determined to satisfy himself by a closer inspection.

The weird object before them proved to be an innocent guide-board—the article of all others they most needed at that moment. Like the celebrated laws of Nero, however, thedirectionswere posted very high, but Lemon being tall, our hero mounted on his shoulders and by the light of the moon deciphered the inscription. They had now no difficulty in choosing their way. On they pushed therefore; and during the black darkness of the night, crept through the tangled underwood, and over swamps where loathsome, crawling things that shun by day the presence of man, now seemed to seek his acquaintance. How mysterious are these dense untrodden forests of the South! The very air one breathes is living. Throughout the day a million chirping, whirring, twittering sounds, salute the ear. The short grass beneath the forest trees moves, writhes, and creeps with microscopic life, until the brain grows dizzy at the sight. At night it is no less marvellous to hear the myriad denizens of the swamps and woods; and terrible when your tread on some soft, velvety substance reveals a sleeping snake, who, at the same moment, attacks you with his poisonous fang, mayhap, fatally.

It is a singular, but well-accredited fact, that these great Southern swamps have been yearly deteriorating, while the surrounding country has been growing in civilization. Old writers tell us that the reptile life now infesting them in such rank luxuriance had scarcely any existence one hundred years ago. Colonel Byrd writes of the "Dismal Swamp:" "Since the surveyors have entered the Dismal Swamp they haveseen no living creature; neither bird, beast, insect nor reptile, came to view. Not even a turkey-buzzard will venture to fly over it, no more than the Italian vulture will venture to fly over the filthy lake of Avernus; or the birds of the Holy Land over the Salt Sea where Sodom and Gomorrah once stood." And yet, in the present day, insect and reptile life swarms there in every form through all the hours of the day and night!

Our fugitive friends, however, felt little inclination to philosophize upon this subject. The hope of coming liberty strengthened their limbs, and they bent all their energy to the task of moving forward; walking, running, creeping, until the dawn of day approached, when weary and footsore they sought some secure spot and lay down and slept—perchance to dream of "Home, sweet Home"—perchance of "Camp Sorghum," and its "chivalric" guards—perchance of the dreadful blood-hounds whose fatal scent might even then be on their trail!

Startled by hounds. — An unpleasant predicament. — A Christian gentlewoman. — Appeal to Mrs. Colonel Taylor. — "She did all she could." — A meal fit for the gods. — Aunt Katy. — "Lor' bress ye, marsters!" — Uncle Zeb's prayer. — Hoe-cake and pinders. — Woodcraftversusastronomy. — Canine foes. — Characteristics of the slave. — Meeting escaped prisoners. — Danger. — Retreat and concealment.

It is the morning of November twenty-eighth, 1864. The sun has just risen above the eastern hills, and his slanting beams fall upon the goodly heritage of Colonel Alexander Taylor, "C. S. A." There are, as yet, none of the usual features here of a war-stricken country; everything around is rich and substantial. The residence is a stately mansion in the Elizabethan style, and the lady who, accompanied by two sweet children, walks the broad piazza, is evidently a refined gentlewoman. The colonel himself, like a gallant (but mistaken) knight, has "gone to the wars."

She marvels what makes "Rupert," a noble hound, that but a moment ago stretched himself at full length across the hallway, rise and bound over the lawn, barking loudly and fiercely as he runs. She calls him—at first gently, and then peremptorily, until the old hound with evident reluctance obeys the summons, and crouches at her feet. She then directs a negro, whose tokens of age and long service are as pronounced as those of his canine rival, to find out what there isin the clump of trees beyond the north hedge, to excite "Rupert's" anger. The venerable negro, with the deliberateness of his race, proceeds in the direction indicated, but is saved the necessity of much exertion, by the startling appearance of a young soldier in a motley uniform of gray and blue—his coat of one color—his nether garments of another! He advances boldly toward the house, and the lady scrutinizes the intruder. The result of her examination shows her visitor to be a slight, but sinewy young man, with a frank and honest expression, and seemingly not more than eighteen years of age. The motley stranger drew near, and bowing gracefully saluted her with, "Good-morning, madam."

The lady at once returned the salutation with a genial smile, that sent a thrill of pleasure and confidence to his heart. Without further ceremony he thereupon frankly and fearlessly informed Mrs. Taylor that he and his companion were escaped Union prisoners; that they were in a condition of starvation; and appealed respectfully but most urgently to her as a woman, for humanity's sake, to assist them in their sore need by giving them food. She at first hesitated, startled by such a request from such a source. Her husband, she said, was an officer in the Confederate service, and if it became known that she had assisted those whom his government counted enemies, it would possibly bring reproach upon him. Our young hero (for he it was) then addressed her somewhat after the fashion of the unfortunate Ulysses in his appeal to the goddess Calypso; recounted his misfortunes briefly, touched on the terrible fate that awaited him and his companion, should they be recaptured, and all doubtless in such moving terms that, like Desdemona, the lady must have thought, if she did not exclaim:

"'Twas pitiful—'twas wondrous pitiful!"

This is evident from the fact that she scarcely awaited the end of his story, before assuring him that "she would do all she could," following up that assurance in a few moments by offering the manly and polite youth before her an abundant supply of fresh and excellent food; which, she took the precaution of adding, was for himself and his comrade, fearing possibly, from Glazier's famished look, he might consume it all himself! She further assured her visitor that she would keep the secret of his having been there; while he, in return, protested that should the varying fortunes of war give him the opportunity of serving her husband, he would do so at the risk of his life. With his haversack amply replenished, an appetite like a wolf, faith in the goodness of God strengthened, and belief in the perfection of some, at least, of the fairest portion of creation greatly confirmed by this interview, he rejoined Lieutenant Lemon, and the comrades proceeded forthwith to their meal which was enjoyed with a zest known only to the starving. Before reclining himself under the glittering stars, Glazier made this entry in his diary: "Oh! ye who sleep on beds of down, in your curtained chambers, and rise at your leisure to feast upon the good things provided ... you never knew the luxury of a night ofrest, nor the sweets of a meal seasoned by hunger, and the grateful remembrance that it was provided by woman's kindly heart, which, wherever it may beat, sooner or later responds to the tale of misfortune."

After a sleep so profound as to extend several hours beyond the time they had agreed upon as best adapted for the resumption of their journey, they found themselves much refreshed and strengthened, so much so that by sunrise they had reached a small stream known as Black Creek, one of the tributaries of the North Edisto River. Here, in crossing a bridge, they very opportunely encountered a colored laborer, who was on his way to work, and who cheerfully turned aside to guide them to a hut, where he assured them they could remain in safety throughout the day. The proprietor of this refuge for hunted wayfarers was a certain "Aunt Katy"—an aged negress, whose heart and hut, and such fare as her scanty larder contained, were always at the disposal of the distressed. Hearing that the strangers were Union soldiers who had escaped from Columbia, she approached them with the following salutation: "Gor A'mighty bress yer, marsters; dis is de yeah ob jubilee, shua, when de Yankees come to Aunt Katy's. Come in, marsters, come in!"

Accordingly they entered, and, by some occult process, the fact of their presence soon became known to the entire slave population of the neighborhood, who came flocking in throughout the day. Such an important occasion would have been incomplete without a prayer-meeting, Aunt Katy herself being a pillar of the Colored Methodist Church, and it was not long before the whole assemblage were on their knees, invoking every imaginable blessing upon the cause of the Union and its defenders, and every evil upon its opponents. Among other things Captain Glazier records, as a feature of this impromptu prayer-meeting, is the petition of a venerable prototype of "UncleTom," named Zebulon, "who appeared to be a ruling spirit in the party." This good man's enthusiasm burst forth as follows:

"Oh Lor' Gor A'mighty! We'se you-ah chillen as much as de white folks am, and we spec yo to heah us widout delay, Lor'; cause we all is in right smart ob a hurry. Dese yere gemmen has runned away from de Seceshers, and wants ter git back to de Norf! Dey has no time to wait! Ef it's 'cordin' to de des'nation of great heben to help 'em et'll be 'bout necessary for dat ar help to come right soon.

"De hounds and de rebels is on dar track. Take de smell out ob de dogs' noses, O Lor'! and let 'Gypshun darkness come down ober de eyesights ob de rebels. Comfoozle 'em, O Lor'! dey is cruel, and makes haste to shed blood. Dey has long 'pressed de black man, and groun' him in de dust, and now I reck'n dey 'spects dat dey am agwine to serve de Yankees in de same way.

"'Sist dese gemmen in time ob trouble, and lift 'em fru all danger on to de udder side ob Jordan dry-shod.

"And raise de radiance ob your face on all de Yankees what's shut up in de Souf. Send some Moses, O Lor'! to guide 'em frue de Red Sea ob 'flickshun into de promised land.

"Send Mr. Sherman's company sweepin' down frue dese yere parts to scare de rebels till dey flee like de Midians, and slew darselves to sabe dar lives.

"Let a little de best of heben's best judgments res' on Massa Lincum, and may de year ob Jubilee come sure.

"O Lor'! bless de gin'rals ob de Norf—O Lor'! bless de kunnels—O Lor'! bless de brigerdeers—OLor'! bless de capt'ins—O Lor'! bless de Yankees right smart. O Lor'! eberlastin'. Amen."

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