The next day I went to see about carrying it out myself, and was told that a man had already made arrangements to carry it, and that it was packed up, ready to go. While talking about the mail, another of my new acquaintances came up, and I invited the two to walk over to the Italian saloon with me and take something to drink.
"You go with me," said the new comer, "over to the saloon where I get my drinks."
"Very well," said I, and we all went over.
In front of the saloon was hitched a horse and buggy. In the saloon, besides the proprietor, was a very gentlemanly-looking man, who, soon after we entered, asked the proprietor of the saloon if he had any word that he wanted to send to Hernando. The man said he was going down that way, and if he had any thing to send he would take it.
The proprietor had nothing to send, and the gentleman, without making any further business, went out. The thought now occurred to me that the mail was in the buggy at the door, and the man that went out was the mail-carrier. I excused myself from my companions, as soon as I could, and started out to watch the suspected gentleman. When I went out, he had unhitched and started down the street. I followed along, through one street after another, until the buggy stopped at a provision store. There the gentleman purchased a demijohn of something, and a side of bacon. I saw him place them in the buggy, and then return to make other purchases.
I then went to Captain Taylor, who had charge of the Government horses in the city, whom I found sitting on his horse at his stables. I told him that a rebel mail was going out through the lines, and that I wanted his horse long enough to ride out to the picket line, on the Hernando road, and stop it. He lent me his horse, and I soon found myself at the picket line.
I found a Lieutenant in command of the pickets. I told him that there would be a rebel mail attempt to pass his lines, and that it would be in a one-horse buggy, driven by a very gentlemanly-looking man, and that the buggy that contained the mail would contain a demijohn and a side of bacon. I told him to be thorough, and search the man's person and his buggy and the cushions, and every thing else about the buggy and to do it in such a way as not to lead the man to suspect that any information had been given him. I then took another road and returned to the city.
I had not been gone more than an hour, when the man described drove up to the pickets, halted, and handed out his pass for examination. The Lieutenant, having examined it, told him that he presumed he was all right, but attempts had been made to carry contraband articles through the lines, and his instructions were such that he was under the necessity of making a thorough search before passing him. The man assured the Lieutenant that he had no objections to being searched, and that nothing could be found about himself or buggy not mentioned in the pass.
The man's person was searched and then the buggy and finally the cushions of the buggy were examined, and in them, neatly quilted in, was found the mail. It is needless to add that the gentlemanly personage was furnished accommodations in the Irving Block, and the mail was turned over to the Provost-marshal General. I never learned what became of the man afterward.
A few days after the arrest of the rebel mail-carrier, I invited several of my new acquaintances down to my boarding-house, to have a little jollification. They all accepted the invitation, and, at the appointed time, made their appearance.