which I
finished, and forwarded to her at Montgomery, Alabama, in the month of
June, through the assistance of Mrs. Emory, one of her oldest and best
friends.

Since bidding them good-by at Washington, early in the year 1860, I have
never met any of the Davis family. Years of excitement, years of
bloodshed, and hundreds of thousands of graves intervene between the
months I spent in the family and now. The years have brought many
changes; and in view of these terrible changes even I, who was once a
slave, who have been punished with the cruel lash, who have experienced
the heart and soul tortures of a slave's life, can say to Mr. Jefferson
Davis, "Peace! you have suffered! Go in peace."

In the winter of 1865 I was in Chicago, and one day visited the great
charity fair held for the benefit of the families of those soldiers who
were killed or wounded during the war. In one part of the building was a
wax figure of Jefferson Davis, wearing over his other garments the dress
in which it was reported that he was captured. There was always a great
crowd around this figure, and I was naturally attracted towards it. I
worked my way to the figure, and in examining the dress made the
pleasing discovery that it was one of the chintz wrappers that I had
made for Mrs. Davis, a short time before she departed from Washington
for the South. When it was announced that I recognized the dress as one
that I had made for the wife of the late Confederate President there was
great cheering and excitement, and I at once became the object of the
deepest curiosity. Great crowds followed me, and in order to escape from
the embarrassing situation I left the building.

I believe it now is pretty well established that Mr. Davis had on a
water-proof cloak instead of a dress, as first reported, when he was
captured. This does not invalidate any portion of my story. The dress on
the wax figure at the fair in Chicago unquestionably was one of the
chintz wrappers that I made for Mrs. Davis in January, 1860, in
Washington; and I infer, since it was not found on the body of the
fugitive President of the South, it was taken from the trunks of Mrs.
Davis, captured at the same time. Be this as it may, the coincidence is
none the less striking and curious.

CHAPTER V

MY INTRODUCTION TO MRS. LINCOLN

Ever since arriving in Washington I had a great desire to work for the
ladies of the White House, and to accomplish this end I was ready to
make al