ll
overpowering with their gratitude, when I pooh-poohed their fear of a
great Northern invasion, and said that the people of the North were just
as innocent of any participation in this business as they themselves
were. Our line of march resumed brought us to the prison, and I was not
sorry to have the shock of an enforced visit somewhat lessened by a
general invitation from mine host of an adjoining tavern to liquor up.
Of course I was noways chary of invitations to the crowd, and the
bar-room being full, I made the bar my rostrum, and indulged in a piece
of autobiography that was intended to gain the general consent to return
to my fellow-travellers, who were reported still at Martinsburg. If I
cannot boast of great success _at_ the bar, I am as little proud of my
eloquence _on_ the bar. One of the Kennedys, brother to my guard, did
suggest taking me to his house, half a mile off; but to that Colonel
Davenport, a bustling great man of the village, answered, that, as there
was sure to be some hanging at night, it would be safer to be in the
prison, as well from the mob as from any escape on my own part, and it
was better to stay contentedly where I was. Doctor Marmion, my
acquaintance of the morning, rode over to find me and to explain his
part in my visit to the Ferry, hoping that such a confirmation of my
story would secure my immediate release. But by that time I was in the
custody of the sheriff, by some military legal process; and while that
officer was kind and civil, he refused to do anything, except promise me
an early hearing before the court-martial, which was to reassemble the
next day. Finally, I was hustled through a gaping, pot-valiant crowd,
into the prison, where the mob had violently taken possession; and it
was a good while before I could be got up stairs and safely locked into
my cell. The bolts were shot pretty sharply, but the sense of relief
from the threats and impertinence of the bullying fellows outside quite
outweighed my sensation of novelty on finding myself in such strange
quarters. My supper was sent up, my friendly guard gave me cigars, and a
buxom daughter of the jailer lent me a candle. I lay down on a rough cot
and was soon asleep; my last recollection was of my sturdy guard, armed
and wakeful, in front of my cell; and I woke after several hours of
sound, refreshing slumber, startled by the noise of his angry answers to
some still more angry and very drunken men. They had, so I learned