The National tribune., 1904-03-24

me, and told her what she must do, to
carry out the plan 1 had in mind
My scheme was to dress her In Miss
| Carriers clothes, if they could be procured.
II not, il the old darby should fail me. l
would take her across the James. myself,
| at night, and place her in the care OF ne
groes at or near Palmyra, until she could
procure the necessary clothes. l had no
| fear of the u. S. greenbacks arouSing any
suspicion; at this period Of the war they
were eagerly sought-$1 being worth $50
OF Confederate paper: The negroes
| would help-money would do the rest.
On the other hand, il my scheme
| worked out, as planned. with the help of
the old darky, all would be smooth sailing.
| He would drive her to Palmyra there
was no overseer, and but little to do on
the plantation at this season Of the year,
| leaving the negroes practically without &C.
| cupation. When once in town, with Car
| ter's slave, she could buy what supplies
fshe would need, allowing suspicious or in
quisitive persons to suspect she was q Wis
| itor at Carriers! She might have to do
! some walking before she reached Char
| lottesvile-15 miles further. To reach
that point she would have to rely on ne
groes and her own wits. She was clever
and resourceful, and believed she could
get through to her home without word
| from me. From Charlottesville she could
| easily go anywhere in Rebeldom-she was
| clever enough-by boldly impersonating
| planters daughter, assuming the name of
| should be apprehended? There was no
terror in the thought. What could they
| suspect her OLA mere child! They could
prove nothing. Anyway, captivity would
at least mean she would be taken care Of
She would be put under the care of
| women.
From that point she would probably go
to Gordonsvile, Orange, Culpeper, Wash
ington, and Philadelphia. her home. felt
no anxiety about her. further than for her
/ comfort, until she should try to pass into
the Union lines. Had she been well and
strong, l should have planned differently.
She was sick. Would it not be wise to al
sent to some hospital. Ii she grew worse,
l would try to bring that about.
1t was now about 2 o'clock, and / be-
gan to suspect the old colored man.
Miss Cecil told me OF her movements
up to the time she joined our company at
Chambersburg. She had been to Carlisle
early in June, and could find no record of
her brothers enlistment; then she went to
| Washington, and learned that no man of
that name had enlisted within the time
he had been absent from home. She again
went to the War Department and applied
for pass to our lines in Virginia, but was
refused. AS last resort she applied per
man put his hand on her head and said
mo, my dear, l can not let you go
South, but will inquire and try to locate
your brother, for your sake and your
mothers sake"
While she knew the great man was sim
cere, she knew also that these troublesome
times, and the great responsibilities at
mortal man. She set off by train to Get
tysburg, after obtaining her invalid moth
er's consent, but without telling her of the
disguise she would take; then across the
mountains to Chambersburg, determined
to go to the front, in spite Of the War De-
partment. Here in Chambersburg she dis
guised herself as a boy and walked to our
camp.
We had talked an hour or more when
| the twigs began to snap as of some one
walking. We hid in the great masses of
twining honeysuckle and waited with
my pistol ready. Presently an old colored
"auntie" appeared, putting and blowing,
| with huge package.
She went direct to the cabin. l told
! Miss Marjory to join her, while | went
higher up on the hillside to watch every
| approach to the retreat. -st
| It seemed an age before they appeared
agan-but. then, it always did take a
woman some time to dress, You know, and
realizing that Plain John Jones was fem
| mime and doubtless subject to that pecu-
liarity, I curbed my Impotence and
waited.
| The sun was yet three hours high when
there appeared the sweetest little girl
had ever seen. She was bedecked in
fluffy. white Summer toggery. What .
John JONES'" the chrysalis was no more;
dainty Miss Marjory Cecil, the butterfly,
| stood before me.
l gave her the money she had intrusted
to me- kissed her good-by, and sat silent;
the good old "auntie' led the way down
through the valley. climbed tree to get
a last look at the fair white object. She
reached the road; the old uncle was wait
ing for her, with q mule hitched to di-
lapidated buggy, according to my instruc-
tions. I watched the two ford the river
and they were lost to view on the road
to. Palmyra.
I had promised to find her brother.
took out the daguerrotype and looked al
it. It seemed big task to find an un
i posed Meade's army-but / had no,
reached Meade's army yet! said to my
self: "Tme to move-you must get Q
move on! You will never reach the Army
of the Potomac sitting here"
/ l was impatient to be on the move
again. The sun had set. however, before
i I mounted my horse and rode out OF thu
woods. lonely and meditative What .
comfort Plain John Jones-Miss Cecil
) had been to me. l sighed. 1t was We
light. "Uncle'' had told me that Mead,
was south of the James. Could that b,
possible? I doubted it; yet, / decided t
not cross the James, but shift my cours
toward the east and south. I came t,
the road and started across.
"Halt!' came a challenge.
Il I saw two rebel soldiers run toward MI
with rifles pointing. They had come from
clump Of bushes by the roadside. VIVA
fool had been-to not use more eau
ton.
II Again came the challenge.
1 went at full speed, jumped the Low
fence and into the tall grass beyond. A
rifle ball whistled SO near my head that
lodged. There were trees and hill.
ground beyond. l would try for it, ridin;
at gallop. My horse stumbled. I wen
| sprawling over his head and landed be
. side a log on soft, grassy ground, m!