r
Jack's farm fifteen miles away. It was expected that I would reach
Fryer's Point on the third morning, thus allowing me three days to go
sixty miles; but I could not make much headway, as the roads were so
heavy. The understanding was that I was to deliver the letters to the
same gentleman, at Fryer's, to whom I delivered the others, for
forwarding to Boss at Helena. I was then to go straight to the farm at
Boliver, and report to Smith, the overseer. But after I had got about
four miles away, I concluded that I would not go back to the farm, but
try to get to the Yankees. I knew I had disobeyed Smith by going down to
the madam's to tell her about Boss, because he told me not to go when I
spoke to him about it. And now if I went back I feared he would kill me;
for I knew there would be no escape for me from being run into the bull
ring, and that torture I could not think of enduring. I, therefore,
stopped, and, taking the bridle and saddle from the horse, hid them in
the corner of a fence in a cornfield. Then I went into the woods. The
papers which I had were in the saddlebag safe. The place where I stayed
in the daytime was in a large shuck-pen--a pen built in the field to
feed stock from, in the winter time. This pen was on Dr. Dandridge's
farm; and the second night I worked my way up near the house. Knowing
all the servants, I was watching a chance to send word to the coachman,
Alfred Dandridge, that I wanted him to tell my wife that I was not gone.
I went down to his cabin, in the quarters; and, after a short time he
came. I was badly scared, and my heart was heavy and sore; but he spoke
comfortingly to me, and I was cheered, somewhat, especially when he
promised to see Matilda, and tell her of my whereabouts. He gave me some
food, and hid me away for the night in his house. I kept close all the
next day; and, at night, when all was still, Alfred and I crept out, and
went to old Master Jack's. The distance was not great, and we soon
covered it. Alfred went in and told my wife that I was outside and
wanted to see her. She came out, and was so frightened and nervous that
she commenced sobbing and crying, and almost fainted when I told her, in
low tones, that I was going to try to get to Memphis, and that Alfred
was helping to plan a way to this end. The rebels occupied both roads
leading to Memphis, and I was puzzled to know how to reach the city
without coming in contact with them. Two days after I had talked with
my