"Yes," he muttered, "I have—been—disappointed."
Then I asked him who planned his movement on Harper's Ferry, to which he replied: "I planned it all myself," and upon my remarking that it was a sad affair for him and the country, and that I trusted no one would follow his example by undertaking a similar raid, he made no response. I next inquired if he had any family besides the sons who accompanied him on his incursion, to which he replied by telling me he had a wife and children in the State of New York at North Elba, and on my then asking if he would like to write to them and let them know how he was, he quickly responded:
"Yes, I would like to send them a letter."
"Very well," I said, "you doubtless will be permitted to do so. But, Captain," I added, "probably you understand that, being in the hands of the civil authorities of the State, your letters will have to be seen by them before they can be sent."
"Certainly," he said.
"Then, with that understanding," continued I. "There will, I am sure, be no objection to your writing home; and although I have no authority in the premises, I promise to do what I can to have your wishes in that respect complied with."
"Thank you—thank you, sir," he said repeating his acknowledgment for the proffered favor and, for the first time, turning his head toward me.
In my desire to hear him distinctly, I had placed myself by his side, with one knee resting on the floor; so that, when he turned, it brought his face quite close to mine, and I remember well the earnest gaze of the gray eye that looked straight into mine. I then remarked:
"Captain, we, too, have wives and children. This attempt of yours to interfere with our slaves has created great excitement and naturally causes anxiety on account of our families. Now, let me ask you: Is this failure of yours likely to be followed by similar attempts to create disaffection among our servants and bring upon our homes the horrors of a servile war?"