ing than any man, black or white, I ever met."
"You've odd notions of beauty," said the Judge, smiling. "That accounts for your being an Abolitionist."
"No, it don't." And I added, in a tone too low for Jack to hear, "It only implies, that, until I saw that darky, I doubted our getting out of Dixie."
The Judge gave a low whistle.
"So you smelt a rat?"
"Yes, a very big one. Tell us, why were you so long behind time?"
"I'll tell you when the war is over. Now I'll take you to Libby and the hospitals, if you'd like to go."
We said we would, and, ordering Jack to follow with the ambulance, the Judge led us down the principal thoroughfare. A few shops were open, a few negro women were passing in and out among them, and a few wounded soldiers were limping along the sidewalks; but scarcely an able-bodied man was to be seen anywhere. A poor soldier, who had lost both legs and a hand, was seated at a street-corner, asking alms of the colored women as they passed. Pointing to him, the Judge said,—
"There is one of our arguments against reunion. If you will walk two squares, I'll show you a thousand."
"All asking alms of black women? That is another indication of what you are coming to."
He made no reply. After a while, scanning our faces as if he would detect our hidden thoughts, he said, in an abrupt, pointed way,—
"Grant was to have attacked us yesterday. Why didn't he do it?"
"How should we know?"
"You came from Foster's only the day before. That's where the attack was to have been made."
"Why wasn't it made?"
"I don't know. Some think it was because you came in, and were expected out that way."
"Oh! That accounts for your being so late! You think we are spies, sent in to survey, and report on the route?"
"No, I do not. I think you are honest men, and I've said so."
And I have no doubt it was because he "said so" that we got out of Richmond.
By this time we had reached a dingy brick building, from one corner of which protruded a small sign, bearing, in black letters on a white ground, the words,—
LIBBY AND SON,
SHIP-CHANDLERS AND GROCERS.
It was three stories high, and, I was told, eighty feet in width and a hundred and ten in depth. In front, the first story was on a level with the street, allowing space for a tier of dungeons under the sidewalk; but in the rear the land sloped away till the basement-floor rose above-ground. Its unpainted walls were scorched to a rusty brown, and its sunken doors and low windows, filled here and there with a dusky pane, were cobwebbed and weather-stained, giving the whole building a most uninviting and desolate appearance. A flaxen-haired boy, in ragged "butternuts" and a Union cap, and an old man, in gray regimentals, with a bent body and a limping gait, were pacing to and fro before it, with muskets on their shoulders; but no other soldiers were in sight.
"If Ben Butler knew that Richmond was defended by only such men, how long would it be before he took it?" I said, turning to the Judge.
"Several years. When these men give out, our women will fall in. Let Butler try it!"
Opening a door at the right, he led us into a large, high-studded apartment, with a bare floor, and greasy brown walls hung round with battle-scenes and cheap lithographs of the Rebel leaders. Several officers in "Secession gray" were lounging about this room, and one of them, a short, slightly-built, youthful-looking man, rose as we entered, and, in a half-pompous, half-obsequious way, said to Judge Ould,—
"Ah! Colonel Ould, I am very glad to see you."
