tle Star" and two verses of "On Linden When the Sun Was Low," much to
mother's delight. So equipped, or so not equipped, I began my duties as
Assistant Provost Marshal.

Confederate mail carrying, spy promoting, blockade promoting, recruiting
for Confederate service, were being engineered right from among these
prisoners. I "under-grounded" it all. Through this channel I enlisted
for the Confederate service. Of course you know that when I enlisted in
the service of our enemies, I did so to discover their actions, and was
what most people call a "spy." I had often read the story of Nathan
Hale, the splendid patriot of the American Revolution who was a spy in
the service of General Washington and who gave up his life to the
service. (The Sons of the Revolution of the State of New York have
erected a fine monument to him in the New York City Hall Park). Perhaps
there would be less danger in being a soldier in the ranks who goes
forward with arms in hand and fights openly in battle and dies thus,
than to be a spy and constantly in the shadow of death, night and day,
and no soldier's death for him, but the death of the hangman's noose;
yes, I knew all this.

I worked a blockade running outfit, involving General Morris's adjutant
general, Capt. E. W. Andrews (of whom I will tell more later on), and I
captured Confederate mail carriers, none of which were any part of my
duty, but all contributed to the general good of the service. Strictly
speaking, my duties were completed by caring for the safe keeping,
discipline and comfort of the prisoners in our charge. To do more was
supererogation, and ought to be credited to zeal.

In a short time I found that these Confederates worked their escape
through the use of gold supplied them by their sympathizers in bribing
the guards. But we stopped that and thereafter the soldiers for sentry
duty at certain posts were selected for their known probity. Escapes
continued for a time (but they were always recaptured when they supposed
themselves safe outside our guards). When these escapes (?) were
accomplished there was great jubilation among the Confederates. They had
a great "laugh" on the Yankees; which laugh was changed to "the other
side of the mouth" when all the escaped (?) ones were marched back into
camp, one bright morning. About a mile down the road leading from our
exterior gate to Baltimore was a hotel called the "Vineyard." I engaged
the upper floors of it in which to domicil