to get home, would be on the Potomac river, an' he'd need a stout
canoe for such a voyage."

We were not coming to any understanding by this line of thought,
therefore I harked back to the belief that he might have followed the
Britishers to the upper end of the city, and proposed, knowing of no
better course, to walk in that direction.

The day was beginning to dawn. No soldiers were to be seen on the
streets, and I began to believe that the invaders, wearied with their
work of destruction, had returned to the encampment near the
burying-ground.

We came upon the ruins of the President's mansion; the fire had eaten
out the interior of the building, but the walls were yet standing, and
near about, apparently having neither purpose nor business there, were
an hundred people or more, all gazing at the evidences of the most
approved method of making war by the British standard.

We mingled with these idlers to make certain Darius was not among
them, and then went toward the other ruins on a like errand, but with
no success.

It was sunrise, perhaps a little later, when we stood near the ruins
of the barracks, where a number of negroes were digging amid the
glowing embers with the hope of finding weapons which might be
restored to a condition of usefulness after being subjected to such
great heat.

One of these searchers for useless treasure straightened up as we
approached, and I saw that he was an old man, who looked as if he
might have been a gentleman's servant.

"Do you live here in Washington, uncle?" I asked, and the old darkey
replied:

"I'se ain't noways conditioned fur to answer dat question, sah, kase I
dunno whar massa am ter be foun' dese yere queer days wha' we'se
habin'."

"Who is your master?"

"Massa Clayton, sah. He's foolin' 'roun' wid some ob dem militious
men; but I ain't foun' out wedder he whipped de Britishers, or ef dey
done gone got de bes' ob him."

"I reckon you can say that he has got the worst of it up to the
present time, for your 'militious' men didn't make any great showing,"
I said with a laugh, and then there came into my mind the memory of
Elias Macomber. "Tell me, uncle, where did the American soldiers keep
their prisoners?"

"Right hyar, sah; I'se done seed de barracks jail many a time."

"Were you around here when the building was fired?"

"Yes sah, I stood right hyar when de ossifers rode up."

"Did they set the prisoners free?"

"Sure enuf, honey, more'n twen