Gasper concluded Smith's former fellow-prisoner and messmate was the son of John Phillips, of Cincinnati, to whom he was just writing, and said he would finish his letter by giving the old man the information Smith had furnished concerning his son. Gasper then left us, but returned in the course of an hour, saying he had not yet mailed his letter. He wished us to promise to call on Mr. Phillips if we passed through Cincinnati. We told him we did not know that Cincinnati would lie in our route, but should we get there, in our travels, we would call on Mr. Phillips if he would give us some clew as to where we might find him. Gasper did not know the street on which Mr. Phillips did business, but thought it was somewhere near the Public Landing. He had also forgotten the street on which Mr. Phillips's residence was situated. We, however, promised Gasper to inquire for Mr. Phillips if we visited Cincinnati, and if we happened to learn either his residence or place of business, to call on him and corroborate the statements made in the letter to him. On leaving us Gasper said he would put in a postscript, telling Mr. Phillips of us, and of our promise to inquire for him if we visited Cincinnati. Gasper was seen no more by us, and we gave but little thought to the errand with which he had charged us, as we had no idea what route we should take in rejoining our commands.
It was the 30th of March, after we had dressed ourselves anew, when Smith came to me in Lytle Barracks, saying, "Where's Wood and Sutherland?"
"Gone to the city," I answered.
Smith then said, "Suppose we go into the city, look around, and make a few inquiries for the old man Phillips."
"Agreed," said I; "there is one chance in a thousand that we may find him."
We then went into the city, passing up one street and down another. Wherever sight or curiosity led us we went. We had wandered over the city, or a great portion of it, going into many shops and stores, with scarcely a thought of Phillips; but at length we came to a corner from which the river and many steam-boats lying at the wharves could be seen. Smith stood still until I came up, when he said, "Here is the Public Landing."
"It looks much like it," I replied.
Smith then asked, "Didn't that man at Camp Reynolds say that Phillips did business near the Public Landing?"
"I believe he did," said I, after reflecting. "Suppose we go in here and inquire for him."
We stepped in at the first door. It was a confectioner's establishment, and there were several men in the room. We looked into the show-cases and at other objects of interest, when presently all left the room except one elderly looking man and ourselves. Just as the old man was filling the stove with coal I approached him and asked, "Is there a person doing business anywhere in this part of the city named John Phillips?" As the old man set his coal bucket down he said, "My name is John Phillips." It was the first inquiry we had made and would have been the last, as we were anxious to get back to the barracks for dinner. After our surprise had subsided somewhat the old gentleman wished to know what we wanted. We told him of our promise to a man at Camp Reynolds, Virginia, and asked if he had received a letter from a man by the name of Gasper. He answered that he had not. After telling him we had been prisoners of war, and had come into the lines at Gauley Bridge about a week before, Smith went on to tell him all he knew about "Jack Phillips" as a prisoner at Danville, Virginia.