clothing, real plantation style, and then I went to a barber and had my hair sheared close to my head.
Next came the coloring process—head, face, neck, hands and arms were colored black as any African, and then, to complete my contraband costume, I required a wig of real negro wool. But how or where was it to be found ? There was no such thing at the Fortress, and none short of Washington. Happily I found the mail-boat was about to start, and hastened on board, and finding a Postmaster with whom I was acquainted, I stepped forward to speak to him, forgetting my contraband appearance, and was saluted with—"Well, Massa Cuff— what will you have? "Said I: "Massa send me to you wid dis yere money for you to fotch him a darkie wig from Washington." "What the does he want of a darkie wig?" asked the Postmaster. "No matter, dat's my orders ; guess it's for some 'noiterin' business." "Oh, for reconnoitering you mean; all right old fellow, I will bring it, tell him." I remained at Portress Monroe until the Postmaster returned with the article which was to complete my disguise, and then returned to camp near Yorktown.
On my return, I found myself without friends—a striking illustration of the frailty of human friendship—I had been forgotten in those three short days. I went to Mrs. B.'s tent and inquired if she wanted to hire a boy to take care of her horse.
