“Why, sir,” remarked I, to a Tennesseean of wealth and influence, “we are told by men in our country, that if you in the South thought this, you would be a united opposition at once.”
“Sir,” was the answer, “there are some in the South, now Union men whom this notion might affect; but the truth is, that you can never restore the Union until you emancipate the slaves. For their masters can use them, both small and great, old and young, as efficiently as you can white men. They make them hoe corn and cotton to feed and clothe soldiers in the field; and here again the females are as useful as the males. If I could see some move made at this system of slavery, I would have some hope. I am myself the owner of ten or twelve slaves, and I would willingly give them all up to see the desired result brought about. Emancipation, sir, is the only hope that the Union men have of a restoration. While you return the slaves to their masters as soon as you take them, there is no hope. You might as well, when you take a rebel soldier prisoner, send him immediately back to his own lines without parole.”
My spirits were often depressed, and on one of these occasions I committed all my papers to the care of Captain Stedman, with whom I had formed a friendship in prison, requesting him that, in case I succumbed to my sufferings, he would endeavor to forward them to my wife.
During the daytime, we were permitted the liberty of the prison yard. One day, while walking about, I noticed a cellar, to which entrance was had from the yard. Into this dark cellar I made my way, and prayed to God to remember me in my sore tribulation. Once, when I was making my exit from this retreat in company with a comrade or two who had joined me, I was seen by Captain Stedman, who on learning what we did there, begged us to pray for him. The next night we prayed in our apartment before retiring. This awakened some surprise among the rest of our comrades, some of whom were swearing and others playing cards. The night following, we held a regular prayer-meeting in our cellar, and God blessed us, and made us exceedingly happy. Each evening thereafter found us holding our prayer-meetings, and each evening saw several recruits added to our number. It had been agreed that there was to be no noise, fearing, as we did, that in case there was, we would be discovered by the guards, and a stop put to our proceedings. The rule was faithfully observed until one night, Captain Stedman, receiving a baptism from on high, could not restrain his happiness, but shouted, “Glory to God in the highest,” and the shout was taken up by the rest.
Here, we thought, was an end of our meetings, for the guards heard us. But we were agreeably mistaken.
[CHAPTER XVIII.]
The Slave’s Ruse—The Richmond Enquirer—President’s Proclamation—A Negro Prayer—A “Big Bug”—A Casibianca—Death of Mr. Eckels—Thoughts and Plans of Escape—Lieutenant Pittenger.
The next day after this occurrence, as I was walking in the yard, a negro, who worked in the prison, slyly pulled me as I was passing him, and exclaimed in an under-tone: