"Sam, you damn black rascal, why didn't you tell me before that this young man was sick?"
Sam began to explain by saying: "I done thought you know'd dat."
But the "ole man" stopped him abruptly, with: "Get out; go and bring some brandy and water up here, quick!"
Sam was glad enough to get out; and when he came back, in a few minutes, with a couple of glasses on a tray, he was grinning all over as his eye caught mine, as much as to say, "I done tole you so."
The "ole man" administered the dose and, after a few more encouraging words, got up to leave, first giving orders to Sam:
"See that you attend to this young man right after this, you ugly nigger."
Sam seemed to be immensely enjoying the "ole man's" abuse.
I was assured that I should be made easy until such time as I should hear from my friends.
"Do you know Colonel Blank, of Baltimore?"
"No, I didn't, not by that name"—and I had to admit ignorance of quite a number of others that he mentioned to me, saying that his house was a sort of refugee headquarters; he would have some of the Maryland boys look in and see me. I didn't like that part of the visit, but there was no way now but to put a bold face on to anything that turned up. I felt that I was so thinned out and pale, my hair closely cut, and otherwise altered, especially by my new clothes, that I should not be recognized by anybody who had recently seen me so ragged in the Rebel Army at Manassas.