_ 160 Southern Historical Society Papers.
life, which of all others will ever stand forth as living, dreadful pictures before my mind.
HUNTING "UNCLE BEV."
Within a few weeks of the evacuation two things occurred, with an account of which these reminiscenses will be closed. One of these things is a somewhat unpleasant memory, and I shall relate it first. It is, of course, well known that after the dastardly assassina- tion of Mr. Lincoln a reward was offered by the government for the arrest of certain Southern gentlemen who were supposed to have been accomplices of J. Wilkes Booth. Among those thus charged was my uncle, Mr. Beverley Tucker. He was as innocent as a new- born babe, and utterly incapable, by nature, of having had anything whatsoever to do with this deed. Nevertheless he was supposed at the time to be one of several conspirators, and a reward of $25,000 was offered for his apprehension. Some time after things had quieted down in Richmond, perhaps late in May or early in June, we had a small company at our house, and among those present was a son of my uncle, who bears his father's name. He is now quite a distin- guished minister of the Episcopal Church, having charge of the old historic parish of St. Paul's in Norfolk, Va. At the time of which I write he had just returned from the uar, and I think the little party was given in honor of his and his brother's safe arrival home.
During the evening, a gentleman, whom we afterwards learned was General Dent, a brother-in-law to General Grant, came to pay a visit to a Mrs. Young, occuoying rooms on the third floor, and to whom General Dent had been, and was always, uniformly most kind. Instead of ringing the bell at once, General Dent waited several minutes so long, indeed, as to create a pause in the conversation and I was sent to the door. After asking for Mrs. Young, he passed up to her parlor, but stiyed so short a while as to cause some slight remarks downstairs. Nothing much, however, was said, and after the company left, we retired as usual. My father, Dr. Harrison, and myself slept down in the basement, and the rest of the family up on the parlor floor. I think it must have been about 2 o'clock, when we were aroused by heavy footsteps on the porch, and a vigorous ringing of the doorbell. At my father's suggestion I went to the basement window, and opening it, asked: " Who is there?" I was answered by the question: "Does Dr. Tucker live here?" Re- plying again to me, our -midnight visitor said, in a very commanding way: " Well, I wish him to dress at once, and go with me to head-
