The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1880-06-26
A STORY OF THE WAR.
CLOSE QUARTERS.
"Nou're hiding rebels in the house
Wi'out the leave o me-"
!


the South during those four crucial years
which one side calls "our late struggle
Cor Independence, and the other stigma
ties as 1.-The rebellion In a skirmish
before Fredericksb urg | was taken pris
oner, and was sent North with q squad
of fellow misfortunates to Point Lookout.
Thence, after awhile, a number of us We're
transferred to Fort Delaware. During
the Journey, while the train was running
ut slack speed. about fifteen miles from
Baltimore, managed to jump off of it.
| took the leap literally in the dark, not
knowing where l was going to land, for
it was growing dusk, and the day was
the end of February. There was snow
upon the ground, and slipped as struck
the track, rolling over and over until |
brought up in a snow-drift below steep
embankmcnt, and saw the lights of the
receding engine flashing round curve
in the road. AS soon as could rally my
wits, | gathered myself up and turned
my face toward Baltimore.
After walking Il few miles | saw the
hazy glow that hangs at night over a
large city. had never been i'll Mary |
land. | had no friends and no acquaint- |
ancc there. | had no money, and felt |
faint for want of food: but | knew that |
Baltimore was sort of outwork to the |
Southern Confcderacy and that | was
likely to find aid and sympathy amongst |
its women: while | knew likewise that | |
had better steer clear of any men | met, |
as most of those who favored the Confed- |
crate cause had gone already into the
Southern army.
At Point Lookout | had observed sew
eral letters directed by some of our pris-
oners to Miss Fanny Lewis, 1Si Reade |
street, Baltimore. AS walked on kept |
repeating this address over and over. |
had no idea who Miss Fanny Lewis was, |
nor, for that matter, had my friends at |
Point Lookout, though they were in the |
habit of addressing her, according to the |
prison etiquette, as ''My Dear Cousin.
They only knew she was a charitable lady |
who sent boxes Of good food and cast-otl |
clothing to the prisoners, while they in |
turn made rings for her out of their coat |
buttons, and inlaid them with mothcr-ot- |
pearl cut from their shirt studs.
| / entered Baltimore toward the east. |
and prcsuming on the universally of that |
great law, westward the course of fash
ion takes it's way" | walked on until | |
found myself about $50 o'clock, i'll what |
seemed a fashionable quarter of the city. |
Presently reached church-a Roman |
Catholic church, | presumed, from the
cross upon its front-and | observed that |
several ladies who came out of it had |
prayer-books with gilt crosses in their
hands. | knew well enough that the |
Roman Catholic population of Baltimore |
was Southern to q ~oHtaR, and almost to
| a man. followed these ladies' and con- |
trived to stop them without frightening |
them. l conclude they felt was gen
tleman by my dress, and We're not intlu-
enccd by the clothes philosophy. lasked |
them to tell me the way to Reade street. |
They gave me clear but brief directions. |
l raised my hat and walked on, striking
into shadow whenever | could, and fear
ing the glance of Il policeman. | made |
my way to Reade street, and pulled the
bell of 1874. 1t was house standing in |
a garden Il little back from the street, |
and an alley ran along one side of the lot.
An Irish servant girl answered my sum-
mons. That was Il good omen. Irish
servant girls were all sympathizers in
their way.
Can | see Miss Fanny Lewis for Il
momcnt?'
"No: Miss Fanny's sent otl,-gone
away. The master is come home. May
be our other Miss Fanny would do for
ye.'
"Let me see hsr,' | said.
She opened the door of a sort of library
OF side sitting room, turned up the gas.
and left me there. I looked at my torn
clothes, my Drowned hands, my haggard
face. and unshorn beard and hair: for
there was a large mirror over the fire
place. AS | stood waiting, | wondered
what impression should produce on that
other Miss Fanny when she came.
Presently the door opened. y small
blonde woman entered. She was about
twenty-five, with a very pleasant face.
She looked as frightened as | felt myself
to be. Closing the door carefully, she
came up close to me, without a word.
'Who are you?" she said, trembling.
"Madam,' | answered, - am Major
Dangercld. of the Confederate service.
| know Miss Fanny Lewis to be Il lady
very good to our poor fellows at Point
Lookout. know nobody in Baltimore
| come to ask your advice and protec-
ton And told her my story.
"Oh," she cried, 81 am the wrong
lady: you expected to see my sister-in-
law You have run yourself into the
greatest danger My husband, Colonel
Lewis, has just received staff appoint
ment here, under the Man or- General
commanding in Baltimore. He does not
allow ne to have anything to do with
treason or dissatisfaction. He is Fed
eral officer.
Il beg your pardon, madam" said,
taking my hat; :" Twill go away at once"
"No, no. she cried, wildly, running
to the window as the bell rang 1T is
too late; hear my husband. That's
him on horseback. with bis orderly. He
has only been in Baltimore few hours
and Fanny was sent away South before
he came. Go in there-quick" she add
ed, as Il mans footsteps sounded in the
hail.
She opened an inner door, and entered
a sort of large closet or store room. 1t
had no window but was lighted by a
kind of fancy lattice work at the top of
the partition that divided it from the sit
ting room. Besides the door through
which | entered. it had two others. |
softly tried them both, and found them
fastened. The place was sort Of ante
room, now used as store closet. 1t had
shelves i'll it, and trunks and packing
eases, broken articles of furniture, linen
laid up in lavender, and ladies' dresses