were a few other travelers bound northward who were eager to
continue their journey. Two of these--young men from
Charleston--approached me cautiously with a proposal that we three
should hire a carriage to take us to York, Pa., and we arranged to go.
Before we were ready to start, an elderly gentleman asked to be
permitted to join the party. He was a large, handsome man, and was
anxious to get to Philadelphia as soon as possible, to see a daughter
who lay at the point of death. The new comer would be a serious addition
to the weight in our carriage, but I had reason to be thankful that we
accommodated him, as will appear later.

After starting, it was determined--why I cannot now say--to go to Havre
de Grace, instead of York. On our arrival in the evening, we found the
ferry boat had been taken to convey troops to Annapolis, and there was
nothing to be done but wait. We all found comfortable lodgings at a
small hotel, and in the morning a flat boat took us across to
Perryville.

Among the passengers were several men and women who, as soon as the boat
landed, collected on the piazza of a little country hotel near the
landing and began singing patriotic songs. They were apparently
overjoyed at their escape from the south-land.

At Perryville there was a large wooden shed which served as a railway
station; employees were standing about, but none could give any
information concerning the trains, all of which, they said, had been
taken by the Government. Before noon, however, a long train came
thundering into the station, and immediately men in uniform poured out
of the cars and ran to the water-side, where they bathed their faces and
hands. They were going to the front. The same train was soon ready to
return to Philadelphia and all who desired to go were accommodated.

It was impossible to get farther than Philadelphia that day. The next
morning, on taking my seat in the train, I recognized the gentleman
directly behind me as the Hon. Caleb Cushing. I did not accost him, not
caring to meet acquaintances just then, and, moreover, I had no reason
to think that he knew me, for although we were born in the same
town,--Newburyport, Mass.,--he was a distinguished public man when I was
a boy.

The route from Philadelphia to New York was by the way of Camden to
South Amboy, and thence by steamboat. The latter was a ferry boat with
room for teams on each side of the engine. There were no teams on board,
and, as I had been si