That night we reached Pittsburgh, which had been my business home for some years immediately preceding my war travels.
My father's home was not at that time in Pittsburgh but a little distance beyond.
Early next morning I was around town, and soon enough found plenty of my old chums. I was only in danger then of meeting too many people who were anxious to hear my story from my own lips. Luckily for me, perhaps, I was captured by Mr. William Moreland, an old associate, who was then the district attorney, and through his advice and management I was preserved from my friends, and urged not to talk too much until I had first reported to Washington.
It will be remembered that I had suffered previously by giving the New York papers an account of my Florida campaign in advance of my report to Washington; and, with a desire to profit by this experience, I refrained from giving away my story.
At my father's house, on the sunset side of the Allegheny Mountains close by Cresson Springs, I remained in comparative retirement but for a few days.
While I was at home, it so happened that Parson Brownlow was coming up through Ohio on his way to Washington, after his release or banishment from home. He was having quite extensive ovations at all the principal cities, delivering at each place one of his characteristic speeches. One day, rather unexpectedly to me, we were told that the Parson would pass our place on a certain train in a few hours. I determined to see him, and, if possible, get a speech for our townspeople while the train stopped. Quite a crowd had gathered about the platform by the time the train reached us. We discovered the Parson on the engine. The railroad officials, who were quite attentive to this class of travelers, usually tender their distinguished guests a seat on the engine, for a better view of the scenery as the train is whirled over the big mountain.
I climbed up on the engine as soon as the train stopped, followed by my father and several others. The Parson looked surprised, and I imagined for a moment that when he saw the familiar gray clothes making a break on him, followed by a crowd of eager persons so closely, that he recalled some of his former Knoxville experiences among the Rebels.
Mr. Brownlow had changed considerably since I had seen him, when he was wrapped up in his old shawl in his Knoxville parlor. He was dressed in a new suit of black broadcloth, and wore a high silk hat, gloves, etc., that gave him quite a clerical appearance.
Without speaking a word for a moment, so surprised was he, he simply reached his hand toward me with a blank stare of astonishment on his countenance. To my hearty, laughing greeting, he soon cordially replied, recognizing me as his interviewer with Miss Craig, and, but for the fact that the train stopped only a moment, we would have had a good speech from him.
When the train reached Altoona, twenty-five miles beyond, where the party were met by G. W. Childs and Mr. Stewart, as a committee of reception from the City of Philadelphia, and, in reply to their address of welcome, Mr. Brownlow pleasantly referred to "meeting one of his rebel guard up on the mountain," declaring that the Rebel ghost followed him, phantom-like, every place he went, night and day, always awake.