"It is a long lane that has no turn," says an old adage; and our captivity, like all things earthly, came to an end. When Gen. Sherman moved upon Branchville, the evacuation of Charleston became a military necessity; and when the rebels left the city, Gray and myself were sent to the jail at Columbia, the capital of South Carolina. The presence of Sherman's army appears to have almost worked a miracle, for from the time we were lodged at Columbia, we received the best possible treatment. Our keeper was Capt. Semmes, whose whole conduct toward us was that of a gentleman, though a bitter rebel; and I got along finely, except in a single instance.

We were put in a room in which there were about twenty-five persons, twenty-one of them being deserters from our army, and the remainder prisoners of war. Of course, we could never agree with the deserters; and they put at me to convert me to their "faith," or rather lack of faith, which occasioned me to insult them, and for this I was soundly whipped for it in less than three minutes. I was not strong enough to fight them, for they were just from the north, and had been well fed and were in good health; while I had been shut up so long on short allowance and unwholesome food, that I had little strength left; nevertheless I went in whenever opportunity offered, and always came out second best. Fearing if ever I got north again I would report them, they concluded to take time by the forelock, and reported me to the rebels as a spy; and either Capt. Semmes or his Lieutenant, gave an order that my hair should be cut off as a punishment: and accordingly four of them seized me and held me down, while a fellow named Jim Brown, a deserter from the 31st Illinois, hacked off my hair. This miscreant is a man about six feet high, with dark hair and eyes, and swarthy complexion—a very talkative man—and, I believe, a fiddler. He was raised in the Sequatchie valley, in Tennessee, but for several years has been living in Franklin county, Illinois; and he, together with the whole vile crowd, took the oath of allegiance to the Southern Confederacy, and were sent back north as a reward for their rascality. They should forever be excluded from society for their crimes.

When Gen. Sherman's army invested Columbia, the rebels took us out of jail, and put us under fire of our own guns; but what for, we did not know. There were about sixty of us altogether, and among the number was the Colonel of the 1st Georgia Federal regiment; also a Capt. Harris, of the 3d Tennessee Cavalry, who had been in close confinement for two years and a half—heavily ironed all the time; and during the whole period had been kept in one room, outside of which he had never been.

While we were under fire, a piece of one of our Rodman shells, weighing about five pounds, struck me on the left shoulder; but as it was a glancing blow, it did no other damage than to stiffen my arm a little.

That night (I believe it was the 17th or 18th of February), the rebels started us off for Winnsboro, to put us on a train and run us to Salisbury, North Carolina. This was the first time they had tried to do anything with us on foot; and about three miles from Columbia, as we were going down a hill, where on the left hand side of the road there was a bluff several feet high, almost perpendicular, Gray sprang down the bank and escaped to the woods. The rebels fired about twenty shots at him; but I afterward saw him, and he told me that although several balls cut close, none of them touched him; and he told me that he got to the Congaree river, and swam over it next morning to our army.

I went on with the rebels till the next night, and then I left them; and the way I escaped was this: we had been marching hard all day, and at night all hands were very tired. We only had one skillet for the whole party to bake bread in, and I rose about two o'clock in the morning and began to cook. After awhile I wanted wood, and going up to the dead line with an ax on my shoulder, I got permission from the guard to step over to a tree top that lay just at their feet to supply myself. They thought, I suppose, that I would not attempt to get off, and they allowed me this small privilege; I had struck but few blows with the ax before they turned their heads to watch the other prisoners; and as that was my only chance, I was off at once, and made the best time I ever did. After running about three hundred yards, I halted and looked around; but I had not yet been missed, and I then felt perfectly safe. I took the best course I could through a swamp and wood, and then struck out for Columbia. I did not, however, proceed far before I came in sight of camp fires; and immediately I commenced a reconnoisance. Stealing close to their pickets, I discovered rebel cavalry, and away I went once more through the woods, like a race horse—keeping all the time, however, in sight of the camp fires; for I knew that if I followed their direction, I would soon pass the rear-guard of the rebel army and stand a chance to fall in with our own troops.

It was not long before daylight overtook me, and I was obliged to conceal myself in a little cane-brake, in a narrow swamp. When I entered it I felt sure that nothing but an accident would save me from discovery; but there was no other chance, and into it I went, waist deep in water. After traveling about a considerable time, I discovered a place which afforded as much security as, and a little more comfort than, any other; and after arranging the brush I laid down on a little knoll of dry earth to rest.

From my hiding place I could distinctly see a brigade of rebel cavalry, encamped on a hill but three-quarters of a mile from me; and from the arrangement of the camp I knew it was on some road. All day long, not daring to move, I laid and shivered in my hiding-place; and at one time a number of soldiers approached near me, while driving out cattle from the brake—eight of them coming within a few feet of where I laid; but I was not discovered.

That night I struck the railroad, and traveled—sometimes near and sometimes on it—as my judgement dictated most prudent, until I was at length interrupted by a body of water, which I took for a river. The railroad bridge over it was very high, but was in flames and rapidly falling down; so I crept up to it to consider the chances of crossing the stream. I saw a picket post about a hundred yards from the stream, but there appeared to be no guard at the bridge itself; so I hastened up to it, mounted the lower timbers, which did not appear to be on fire, and on them I made my way nearly across, when I discovered that a portion of them had already been burned out, so that I was compelled to go back again, and I was fortunate enough to escape detection, and was soon once more in the woods.

Near the bridge, at a mill, were three hundred rebel cavalry; and just above were camp-fires enough for a division of infantry.

Before I struck the railroad, I slipped up to a house to inquire something about the country; for I did not know for certain that I was traveling in the right direction to strike our troops; but I was under the impression that Sherman had taken Columbia, and was therefore aiming for that point. Creeping quietly up to this house, I was just about to rouse the inmates, when a man on the opposite side shouted:

"Halloo, the house;" and in a minute he was answered by a woman.

"We want," said he, "to get some feed for our horses; we have been riding all day, and our stock is very tired and hungry, and if you have any corn or fodder we want to get it."

The woman asked what they belonged to, and they answered: "Wheeler's cavalry."

"Gentlemen," she said, "we have no corn or fodder, only what we buy and pay the money for. We did not raise any this year; our crop failing entirely. If we let you take what we have on hand we will have to pay out more money to replace it, and that would be rather hard, you know."

"O, yes, madam;" was the reply, "we know that; but you might as well let us have it as the Yankees. They will be along here to-morrow and take every thing from you they can find."

This was news to me—just what I wanted to learn.

"Are the Yankees that near?" asked the woman.

"Yes, madam; they are not more than two miles in the rear of our army now, and will be along here sure, to-morrow."

"Why, I thought they were away the other side of Columbia," responded the woman.

"O, no; they captured Columbia day before yesterday," said one of the party.

"Well, if that is the case," she answered, "you can take all the corn and fodder we have got. You will find it down at the barn."

Now the barn was almost behind me; and when the woman told them where the forage was they started instantly for it. Just on my right hand was a low shed, that had been built to shelter sweet potatoes, which had been buried under it; and the hills were covered with pine boughs, which made it very dark under the roof; and as it looked like a good hiding-place, I dodged down there, but fell headlong on an old sow with a litter of young pigs, and some half a dozen full-grown shoats. Here was a rather unpleasant situation! The hogs, alarmed and indignant at the unceremonious intrusion, made a great noise, of course; and, as they rushed out, they threw down a part of the shanty on my head.

I now laid myself down flat on my face, in one of the ditches, alongside of a sweet potato "hole," and hoped to escape detection; but that hope was a fallacious one. Scarcely had I straightened myself in the ditch before two enormous dogs leaped over the fence and made directly for me. There was no time to lose, I thought, and I sprang from under the shed and was off, like a race-horse, over the white sand; nor did I stop to look behind until I had cleared three fences.

On turning around, finally, I discovered the rebels at the barn, some dismounted, but others on their horses looking for me, as if exceedingly anxious to discover my whereabouts; but none of them attempted a pursuit. Nor would it then have been any use, as I had reached the edge of the brush, through which they could not have ridden. I suppose they believed me one of their own men, as their camps were so near.

After my attempt to cross the burning bridge, I picked my way around a great swamp, and came to a large plantation; and hoping that I might get a boat to cross the supposed river, before daylight, I went to the house, which was not more than a quarter of a mile from the largest camp I had seen; but when I reached it, I looked up and thought daylight was approaching and I must secrete myself till the following day, when I felt sure our army would pass by and I could join it.

I looked all around, and the best hiding-place I could discover was under the house; so I laid down on the ground and rolled over and over till I got to the chimney, where I thought I was pretty well secured from observation, and then fell asleep. Presently, however, some one in the house began to stir the fire, and that waked me up; and, on looking about, I saw immediately above me a wide opening in the floor, so that the inmates of the house could certainly see me if I remained where I was; and of course I had to "evacuate" the position.

When I got out daylight still appeared no nearer, and I consequently, concluded I must have been mistaken, and I therefore at once determined to rouse the people, and stand off in the dark and talk to them, and learn what I wanted about the country and the armies. First, however, it was necessary to reconnoiter the position, and I went to the end of the house, where I found a little hole in the window, which was curtained. Through this hole I thrust a finger, and was enabled to gradually remove the curtain so as to see the fire-place; and there was an old darkey down on his knees, with his back to the fire and his breast resting on a low stool. He was very old and very fleshy; and he evidently had not been to bed that night. I wondered at this, and went around to the door and opened it very gently and put my head into the room, which contained two beds, in each of which were two white men. On the posts were gray coats, and at the head of each bed were two guns, and on one was a saber; so regarding this as a rather dangerous place, I did not pursue the "reconnoissance" further, and I closed the door and left.

On the other side of the yard a light was streaming through the window of a negro house, and I went over and peeped in and found a black man sitting by the fire, half asleep; but with a low "whistle" I brought him to his feet as quickly as if he had been bitten by a rattle-snake, and I at once called him, in a whisper, to the window. I told him I was a Yankee soldier in great distress; that I wanted to come in and warm myself, for I was nearly frozen, and adding that I was very hungry.

"You can't come in heah, sah," said he; "my boss is in de nex' room wid four or five soldiers, an' if dey ketch you, fore God, dey kill you."

"Can you not, then, give me something to eat?" I asked.

"Ain't got a bite cooked, sah; soldiers dun tuk all we had, sah," he replied.

"Then, you can tell me a good place to go and hide, can't you?"

"Right down dar, sah; across dat ole fiel'; dar's an ole house you can go an' git inter."

I only asked him the question to make him believe I was going in one direction, when I would strike out in the contrary one as soon as I was out of his sight.

From this plantation I continued to follow the course of the water I wanted to cross, and in a short time I came to another plantation. In each corner of the yard at this place, there was a large log cabin standing; and selecting the one I judged to be occupied by the blacks, I approached it, and knocked at the door, and almost instantly a huge house-dog came bouncing at me from the other building; and as I thought there might be rebel soldiers sleeping there, I declined an engagement with the animal, and ran off down to the stables, and climbed up in a loft, after which the dog returned to the house, apparently well satisfied with his exploits.

As soon as he became quiet, I got down and stole up to the house again, and softly opening the door, went in. The first thing I now did was to feel around over the beds to see if any one was sleeping in the house; but they were all empty. I then examined the table and cupboard, trying to discover something to eat, but found nothing. Then I stirred the ashes to see if I could raise fire enough to warm and dry myself, and while doing this, I heard some one in the other house opening the door. Knowing that it is always best to meet danger half way, I went out into the yard, and as soon as I showed myself, was challenged by a female voice from the porch.

"What are you doing in my house at the dead hours of the night?" she fairly screamed.

"Don't be uneasy, madam," I said calmly, for I was afraid she would alarm the camp which was within easy hearing distance.

"Who are you?" she screamed again.

"I am a soldier, madam, and I want to come in your house, and warm myself."

By the time I said this I was close enough to see her, and discovered that she had on no article of dress but one of those short-sleeved, low-necked garments, made of muslin, which I have often seen on clothes-lines, while in her right hand she had a vicious-looking rifle, and she looked angry enough to use it. I now determined, if possible, to get near enough to snatch the gun from her, if she made any attempt to shoot. As I drew close enough for her to see the color of my clothing, she hallooed out:

"You're a Yankee, that's what you are!"

"No, madam," I answered, "you are very much mistaken; I am no Yankee, I am a Texan."

"Well, what were you doing in my house this time of night; why didn't you come to the house we live in; what did you go there for? you might have known there was nobody in there."

"Madam, I am a stranger; how should I know which house you were in?"

"Well, what do you want here, this time of night?"

"Why, I want to come in and warm, and get something to eat, for I am hungry, and very cold and wet."

"Why don't you go over there to the camp, and get something to eat?' she asked; "haven't they got plenty over there?"

"Madam," I said solemnly, "there are men over there who have not had a bite to eat for three days."

"Is that so?" she asked in a relenting tone, and I saw at once that I had gained the point I wanted—her sympathy.

"Yes, madam, that is true, and for my part, I have been wandering about all night to find something to eat; but the boys all said they had nothing, or else that they couldn't spare it, so I came off over here."

"Poor fellows!" she said, "why, I didn't know our soldiers were so hard up as that."

"Madam, I must come in and warm," I said; "for I am really freezing," and suiting the action to the word, I started in.

"Well, wait," she said, half scared, "till I make a fire, and you may come in."

In a few moments she had a bright fire of fat pine blazing, and she called me in. She had also put her clothes on, and wrapped a shawl around her. I sat by the fire some time and warmed, when she called to a younger woman, and told her to go out in the kitchen and find me something to eat. In a little while she returned, bringing a large, "flat cake" of corn bread and a piece of raw bacon, which she gave me, and I proceeded to appease my appetite. When I got through eating, I resumed the conversation with,

"Madam, these are troublesome times, and these are days when we all need friends; you, perhaps, need friends, and so do I. You befriend me to-night, to-morrow I may have it in my power to help you."

"Why," said she, "what do you want?"

"Madam," I replied, "I don't believe you could find it in your heart to injure me, and so I shall make a confidant of you, for I need your assistance. I am a United States soldier."

"There now," she said, in an excited tone, "I said you were a Yankee, and you told me, no. Oh! just think! what if some of our soldiers should step in; and a body never knows when to look for them. What did bring you so close to the camp? Why if they should catch you here they would kill you, and may be me, too; at least, they would take every thing I had in the world. Oh! if I had known you were a Yankee, I wouldn't have let you come in."

"Madam, I am no Yankee;" I answered, "I am a western man; I told you no lie."

"Oh, but you are the same thing; you know we call all your men Yankees; that is the only way we always speak of your men in our country."

"Well, madam, you help me to-night, and to-morrow I may be able to do you a favor."

"What do you want me to do?"' she asked.

"Why, all that I want now, is for you to tell me how to get over this river down here," pointing in the direction of the water.

"Why, bless your soul, that is no river; it's nothing but a mill pond. Where do you want to go?" she asked.

"I want to go to Columbia, or to the nearest camp of Sherman's army."

"Well, I can put you in a path that will take you out on the Columbia road," said she; and without more ado about it, she went out some distance from her house, and showed me a path, by following which through the fields, woods, around a swamp, and over a ridge, I would eventually come to a big road that led to Columbia.

I thanked her, and she asked me my name, and told me she was a lone widow, and her name was Mary Jones; and she certainly was young and beautiful as one could wish. I followed her directions to the letter, and found the big road she described; but lo! there was a big cavalry camp on it. I picked my way around this, well satisfied that the woman did not know they were there; so I struck out across woods, and plantations, in the direction I wanted to go, and was soon so far from the camp that I believed myself safe, and traveled in daylight, though I still kept off the road.

I was making very good time across a piece of low swampy timber land, to a ridge, a short distance before me, when all of a sudden, I heard sharp skirmishing on the top of the very hill I wanted to reach, and knowing our men were there, I was sure that all I had to do was to conceal myself till the rebel rear guard was drawn back, and I soon found a hiding place in a tree top near by. Covering up my blue clothes in the green boughs a while, I found the skirmish had ended, but still the rebels did not pass me, as I expected, and I therefore came out and started on my journey, and soon found our infantry tearing up the railroad at a rapid rate. I was now free once more, after a long and tedious captivity! Those who have never been captives, can little appreciate the feelings of one in my situation at that time. The sight of friends, and of the old flag, and the prospect of soon again being able to revisit home and friends, called up feelings too deep for utterance, too intense for description.