Under Franklin nothing was left undone that could properly be done to soften the rigors of war to non-combatants. Often have his staff officers spent weary hours over intercepted correspondence. It was our duty to examine the correspondence in search of intelligence that might be useful to us; but it was no part of our duty carefully to reseal those letters which were purely on domestic or personal matters, re-inclose the hundred odd little souvenirs they contained, and send them under a flag to the rebel lines. And yet we did this repeatedly. I wonder if the rebels ever did as much for us anywhere in the Confederacy!
Speaking of intercepted letters, I remember that at New Orleans we once seized a bag as it was about to cross the lake. Among other letters, it contained one from a young lady to her brother-in-law in Mobile. I have rarely seen a cleverer production. She gave an account, with great glee, of a trick she had played upon a Boston newspaper, perhaps the "Respectable Daily." She wrote that she had sent them a poem called "The Gypsy's Wassail," the original in Sanscrit, the translation of course in English, and all that was patriotic and loyal. "Now, the Sanscrit," she wrote, "was English written backward, and read as follows:
"'God bless our brave Confederates, Lord!
Lee, Johnson, Smith, and Beauregard!
Help Jackson, Smith, and Johnson Joe,
To give them fits in Dixie, oh!'"
The Boston newspaper fell into the trap, and published this "beautiful and patriotic poem, by our talented contributor." But in a few days some sharp fellow found out the trick and exposed it.
The letter was signed "Anna" simply, and no clue to the author was given. Anna thought that she was safe. She forgot that in the same bag was a letter from her sister to her husband, with signature and address, in which she said, "Anna writes you one of her amusing letters." So I had discovered who Miss Anna was, and wrote her accordingly. I told her that her letter had fallen into the hands of one of those "Yankee" officers whom she saw fit to abuse, and who was so pleased with its wit that he should take great pleasure in forwarding it to its destination; that in return he had only to ask that when the author of "The Gypsy's Wassail" favored the expectant world with another poem, he might be honored with an early copy. Anna must have been rather surprised.
As may be supposed, there were constant trials of wit between the rebels and ourselves, in which we sometimes came off second best. But they had their women to help them, which gave them an immense advantage, for in such matters one woman is worth a "wilderness" of men. I recollect one day we sent a steamboat full of rebel officers, exchanged prisoners, into the Confederacy. They were generally accompanied by their wives and children. Our officers noticed the most extraordinary number of dolls on board—every child had a doll—but they had no suspicions. A lady told me afterward that every doll was filled with quinine. The sawdust was taken out and quinine substituted. Depend upon it that female wit devised that trick.