Warm weather came on, and I sent to Philadelphia for a summer suit of clothes. It came, and it was of a light grey colour. At that time Oxford “dittos,” or a suit pareil partout, were unknown in West Virginia. I was dressed from head to foot in Confederate grey. Such a daring defiance of public opinion, coupled with my mysterious stealing into the rebel country, made me an object of awe and suspicion—a kind of Sir Grey Steal!
There was at that time in Charleston a German artillery regiment which really held the town—that is to say, the height which commanded it. I had become acquainted with its officers. All at once they gave me the cold shoulder and cut me. My friend Sandford was very intimate with them. One evening he asked their Colonel why they scorned me. The Colonel replied—
“Pecause he’s a tamned repel. Aferypody knows it.”
Sandford at once explained that I was even known at Washington as a good Union man, and had, moreover, translated Heine, adding other details.
“Gott verdammich—heiss!” cried the Colonel in amazement. “Is dot der Karl Leland vot dranslate de Reisebilder? Herr je! I hafe got dat very pook here on mein table! Look at it. Bei Gott! here’s his name! Dot is der crate Leland vot edit de Continental Magazine! Dot moost pe a fery deep man. Und I dink he vas a repel!”
The next morning early the Colonel sent his ambulance or army waggon to my hotel with a request that I would come and take breakfast with him. It was a bit of Heidelberg life over again. We punished Rheinwein and lager-beer in quantities. There were old German students among the officers, and I was received like a brother.
At last Sandford and I determined to return to the East.
There was in the hotel a coloured waiter named Harrison. He had been a slave, but “a gentleman’s gentleman,” was rather dignified, and allowed no ordinary white man to joke with him. On the evening before my departure I said to him—
“Well, Harrison, I hope that you haven’t quite so bad an opinion of me as the other people here seem to have.”
He manifested at once a really violent emotion. Dashing something to the ground, he cried—