ning, and asked the charge for
breakfast. The woman kept a table set for twelve, and had provisions
cooked and ready for a like number. Being told that twenty-five cents
was the price, Tom paid the quarter and took his seat, calling for
everything in sight, until he had eaten all the cooked victuals the poor
woman had, when he demanded more food or the return of his money, saying
that he had paid for his breakfast and had not had enough. At this, the
widow began to cry, which attracted the attention of a fat, burly
policeman, who ordered the gluttonous brute to leave. Tom and the
policeman soon got into a dispute as to what constituted a meal, and
the negro offered to bet his opponent a guinea that he was yet
sufficiently hungry to be able to eat a bundle of hay as large around as
the fat policeman's body. The money was put up in my hands, the
policeman procured the hay--the nastiest salt marsh hay that he could
find--and compressed it to the required size by means of a strap. By
this time quite a crowd had gathered. The strap was cut and the hay
expanded so that it looked like a wagon-load, but the negro, with a
broad grin and without hesitation, commenced his task with apparent
relish, and soon ate up every particle of the hay. Being the
stakeholder, and an eye-witness, I was compelled to pay over the money
to Tom.

[Illustration: CAPT. CHARLES BURNBAUM.]

Our other two guards saw the point of this story and fairly roared with
laughter, but the liar did not seem to appreciate it. However, it
accomplished its object, and we heard no more fish or other stories from
guard number three while we were together.

We reached Boston about dark and were lodged in a room of the
courthouse, on the ground floor, the jail having been recently burned.
The town was soon all excitement over our capture, and we had many
callers, who were admitted to see and talk with us, while very many more
wanted to see us, but could not. We enjoyed a sumptuous meal of bacon
and white bread, which was brought to us by citizens, and during our
repast we were holding a genuine reception, the citizens taking us in
turn and asking many questions about ourselves, the war, our opinions of
the situation and future, and, in short, acting as if we were a bureau
of information about the outside world. Our guards introduced us, and I
heard one of them telling a small crowd about the fish and hay stories.
We could not have been treated better if we had be