Tis a wonder I escaped with life and limb,--such a charging
of bayonets and clicking of gun-locks. Sometimes I tempted them by
refusing to give any countersign, but offering them a piece of tobacco,
which they could not accept without allowing me nearer than the
prescribed bayonet's distance. Tobacco is more than gold to them, and it
was touching to watch the struggle in their minds; but they always did
their duty at last, and I never could persuade them. One man, as if
wishing to crush all his inward vacillation at one fell stroke, told
me stoutly that he never used tobacco, though I found next day that he
loved it as much as any one of them. It seemed wrong thus to tamper with
their fidelity; yet it was a vital matter to me to know how far it could
be trusted, out of my sight. It was so intensely dark that not more than
one or two knew me, even after I had talked with the very next sentinel,
especially as they had never seen me in India-rubber clothing, and I can
always disguise my voice. It was easy to distinguish those who did make
the discovery; they were always conscious and simpering when their turn
came; while the others were stout and irreverent till I revealed myself,
and then rather cowed and anxious, fearing to have offended.

It rained harder and harder, and when I had nearly made the rounds I had
had enough of it, and, simply giving the countersign to the challenging
sentinel, undertook to pass within the lines.

"Halt!" exclaimed this dusky man and brother, bringing down his bayonet,
"de countersign not correck."

Now the magic word, in this case, was "Vicksburg," in honor of a rumored
victory. But as I knew that these hard names became quite transformed
upon their lips, "Carthage" being familiarized into Cartridge, and
"Concord" into Corn-cob, how could I possibly tell what shade of
pronunciation my friend might prefer for this particular proper name?

"Vicksburg," I repeated, blandly, but authoritatively, endeavoring, as
zealously as one of Christy's Minstrels, to assimilate my speech to any
supposed predilection of the Ethiop vocal organs.

"Halt dar! Countersign not correck," was the only answer.

The bayonet still maintained a position which, in a military point of
view, was impressive.

I tried persuasion, orthography, threats, tobacco, all in vain. I
could not pass in. Of course my pride was up; for was I to defer to
an untutored African on a point of pronunciation? Classic shades of
Harvard