d been largely broken up.

Rocket told me that most of the people in his part of the country would
hail with joy the approach of the Federal troops. He was married to the
daughter of a planter, who was a Union man, though a slaveholder, and
had joined the Confederate army to save his family. His father-in-law
lived on the road ten miles north from Washington, and he described the
location and gave directions so that I could find the house if I had
another chance to run away, saying that if I ever reached there and made
myself known I would certainly get to Little Rock in safety.

[Illustration: SERGEANT E. B. ROCKET.]

Captain Payne, also, gave me directions how to find the home of his
people, telling me how to find Dooley's ferry, in the neighborhood, and
how Dooley would know me, set me across the river and see that I reached
the right place. He also told me that a neighbor of theirs had three
sons in the Federal army at Little Rock, and that I could easily get
horses and guides to that place.

When we reached Washington, and Ed. Rocket bade us good-bye, he told me
that he had never been so sorry for anything in his life as that he had
been obliged to capture and hold us.

Ed. Rocket is now a poor Baptist preacher in Arkansas.

We were turned into a guardhouse that was about sixty by twenty feet in
size and so full that all could not lie down at once. It was far from
being pleasant.

The prisoners confined in this building were three spies and a large
number of Confederates, the latter being held for crimes ranging all the
way from chicken-stealing to murder, and in this agreeable society we
spent ten days.

We got acquainted with a good many of the prisoners, and had
considerable fun in various ways, but we were glad to leave.

Cornmeal was the only food served to us during our stay, but the rebel
prisoners were treated the same as the others, and we had an extra
allowance as officers--by purchase; so we could not complain of any
unfair distinctions.

There was one old skillet in the guardhouse, and all the cooking had to
be done with this one article. It was never cool. We took turns in its
use, and the call of "Next!" was as orderly and regular as in a barber
shop.

By common consent the Yankees were given the first turn with this
skillet, as preferred guests, and we thereby had our meals at ordinary
meal hours.

There were crowds coming in and going out of the guardhouse all the
time, as there