Mamie
Dana, as the wife of an army officer at Fortress Monroe, I related the
Memphis incident. She did not in the least recall it.

V

I had one other adventure during the war that may be worth telling. It
was in 1862. Forrest took it into his inexperienced fighting head
to make a cavalry attack upon a Federal stockade, and, repulsed with
considerable loss, the command had to disperse--there were not more
than two hundred of us--in order to escape capture by the newly-arrived
reinforcements that swarmed about. We were to rendezvous later at a
certain point. Having some time to spare, and being near the family
homestead at Beech Grove, I put in there.

It was midnight when I reached my destination. I had been erroneously
informed that the Union Army was on the retreat--quite gone from the
neighborhood; and next day, believing the coast was clear, I donned a
summer suit and with a neighbor boy who had been wounded at Shiloh and
invalided home, rode over to visit some young ladies. We had scarcely
been welcomed and were taking a glass of wine when, looking across
the lawn, we saw that the place was being surrounded by a body of
blue-coats. The story of their departure had been a mistake. They were
not all gone.

There was no chance of escape. We were placed in a hollow square and
marched across country into camp. Before we got there I had ascertained
that they were Indianians, and I was further led rightly to surmise what
we called in 1860 Douglas Democrats.

My companion, a husky fellow, who looked and was every inch a soldier,
was first questioned by the colonel in command. His examination was
brief. He said he was as good a rebel as lived, that he was only waiting
for his wound to heal to get back into the Confederate Army, and that if
they wanted to hang him for a spy to go ahead.

I was aghast. It was not he that was in danger of hanging, but myself,
a soldier in citizen's apparel within the enemy's lines. The colonel
turned to me. With what I took for a sneer he said:

"I suppose you are a good Union man?" This offered me a chance.

"That depends upon what you call a good Union man," I answered. "I used
to be a very good Union man--a Douglas Democrat--and I am not conscious
of having changed my political opinions."

That softened him and we had an old-fashioned, friendly talk about the
situation, in which I kept the Douglas Democratic end of it well to the
fore. He, too, had been a Douglas Democrat.