Wood River times. [volume] (Hailey, Idaho) 1882-1915, 1893-10-17
The FORTUNE Of WgR.

The room was comfortable enough. II
was the gucst-room Of an old Virginian
farm house on the James river; but the
farmer was away, fighting in Lees army
for the defense of Richmond, and half
squadron Of Sheridan's Horse, on out
post duty, occupied the building. The
furniture of the room was old fashioned.
solid and substantial. The bed had cur.
tains; the floor was carpeted and prints
hung upon the walls. The last place in
the world that the room resembled or
suggested was Il prison. Yet the man
who walked perturbedly up and down
the floor was prisoner Confederate
prisoner of war; and the other man,
who paced the courtyard outside, be.
meath his window, was Federal soldier
guarding him.
The prisoner had made no attempt to
sleep. From 10 at night, when they had
locked him there, till three in the morn
ing, he had been fevcrishly striding to
and fro almost without break. When
he had thrown himself, from time to
time, upon the bed, it was to think
and not to rest Partly he was weighing
chances, and wondering whether it was
possible that Stuart's Cavalry would
swoop down suddenly and rescue him
but his mind mainly dwelt upon the one
paramount horror of the position in
which he found himself.
His lamp was still burning, and there
were pens, ink and paper lying on the
table. He had asked for this favor, and
his captors had granted it without de-
muir. AS they were going to shoot him
at daybrcak, they could scarcely grudge
him so trivial an indulgence.
There was something which he wanted
to write before he died, a last message
to his mother IN South Carolina, who was
praying for his safe return. Three times
already he had begun the letter, and
then stopped and torn up what he had
written. 1t was difficult to write with
out telling either too little or too much
At first he had intended to suppress all
that was really essential in the story.
But within the last hour something had
happened which had changed his mind.
and resolved him to write down the
plain truth about the things that had
befallen him. Cruel as the truth was, it
was not dishonorable. Better, he
thought, that his mother should hear it,
than that apocryphal, and perhaps cal
luminous, tales should reach her ears.
So, with an effort, he Gained himself,
and took up his pen and wrote:
''MY DEAREST MOTHER: Whether this
letter will ever reach you l cannot say,
Is shall have to trust to the kind offices
of the enemy for its safe transmission. In
any case, before you receive it you will
have heard the worst. You will have
heard that am dead. At the moment
when write this have only two or three
more hours to live, as l am sentenced to
be shot at sunrise. If these lines reach
you you will also know that you have nc
reason to be ashamed of me, or of my
brother Jefferson, who is sleeping in the
next room to me, and whose prisoner
am.
"Jefferson's prisoner? That puzzles
you understand. 1t has happened very
simply.
~ was serving, as you know, with
Stuart's cavalry. General Stuart wanted
some information which could only be
obtained by passing inside the Federal
lines. Happening to know the country
better than most, volunteered for the
service, and, disguised as farm hand,
made my way in the direction of Rich
mond l obtained my information, but
on the road back was taken by two OF
Sheridan's troopers. They searched me,
and, unfortunately, had concealed about
me some plans had made of the Federal
defenses at Bermuda Hundred. So they
brought me along to this farm house on
the James river, where they are stationed
under the command of my brother Jeffer,
son Captain Jefferson Langley OF
the Federal Army.
II didn't know any more than you did,
that Jefferson was fighting for the North.
hadn't seen him, any more than you
have, since that day he ran away from
home five years ago. didn't even know
he was alive. But when the Sergeant
marched me in front of him l recognized
him ut once.
.'He wasn't so quick at recognizing
me; but that's no wonder, for, as told
YOU, ] was disguised, and had ten
days beard on my face. He began
questioning me- =,
...You have been arrested within the
Federal lines. Compromising documents
have been found upon your person. You
are accused of being Confederate spy.
Have you anything to say in your de-
fense?
Nothing l said.
Jefferson looked up. My voice
seemed to remind him of something-he
didn't quite know what. Then he went
on:
"'By military law the punishment OF
the crime of which you are accused is
DEATH
"'I know it, ] said.