“‘Heaven have mercy on me!’ I groaned in despair. If I had known then what was going on at home, I dare say my anguish would have been greater still; but I presume it was better as it was, for I might have died if any additional troubles had been thrust upon me, I think that the heroic struggle I had witnessed on the part of the gallant bumblebee to win his freedom had a good effect on me. I became convinced that a man of courage and strength could accomplish anything that was necessary, and I then and there resolved that I would imitate the brave example set by the heroic insect as soon as I recuperated my strength, I would make an effort to regain my liberty, an effort that should break down and trample over all opposition. I would not yield like a base coward, but would be free, or lose my life in the attempt to accomplish that end.
“It was four days after I had regained consciousness before I was able to sit up in my bed. Doctor Lamberton visited me once a day, usually coming early in the morning, and chatted with me a few moments, gave his instructions and retired. Then I would be left alone for the remainder of the day, except when some one would come to bring me food and drink. Then I would divide my time between the mouse, the spider and Lottie’s picture, giving most of my attention, though, to the image of my darling. It was so dark in my cell that I could not read, even if I had had anything in the shape of a book; and then since the fever had left my brain it seemed to be lingering in my eyes, and made them sore and quite sensitive. The doctor brought me a pair of green glasses to protect my eyes, and told me to wear them all the time, as my eyes were in very great danger. My recovery was exceedingly slow.
“As soon as I thought my strength would justify it I wrote a long letter to Lottie, giving in detail all the circumstance that had combined to prevent my return to Memphis. I requested her to see Doctor Dodson, inform him of my situation, and ask him to come to my assistance without a moment’s delay. I also requested her to go and see General Calloway and explain to him the cause of my absence from Horn Lake on the day appointed. I informed her of my illness, but did not tell her how serious it had been. I told her the simple truth when I said that her dear picture had been my chief source of happiness during the long, weary days of my solitary confinement. My letter closed thus:
“‘Always trust me, dear Lottie, no matter what you hear about me. I am now, have ever been, and always will be, as true to you as the needle is to the pole.’
“‘I sealed and delivered that letter to the negro boy, who promised to mail it, but I don’t think he did it, for no such letter ever was received by Lottie. I waited and hoped for Doctor Dodson to come to my assistance; but, alas! I waited and hoped in vain. As soon as I was able to take a little exercise by walking about the room that small comfort was denied me, for a rough blacksmith came in one day and riveted a heavy chain on my ankle, then fastened the other end to a beam in the floor.
“‘There now,’ he exclaimed, when he had finished the job, ‘I guess that’ll keep you this time! By the way, Debar, how did you manage to get those tools?’
“‘What tools are you talking about?’
“‘Why, of course the tools you used in cutting out when you were in here before.’
“‘I never was here before; and my name is not Debar, either.’
“‘Oh! ah! I see how it is—the insane dodge this time. But look here, old fel’, that’s too thin—I should advise you to invent something better.’