The little major was my escort. He took advantage of his position to purloin my money, and then turned me over to the county jailer. That personage took my penknife and other little articles of property, then led me up-stairs, unfastened a door to the right, which led into a large room with barred windows, and having a cage, made of crossing iron bars, in the centre. He unlocked the small but heavy iron door of the cage and bade me enter. For the first time in my life I was to be locked in jail! My reflections could not have been more gloomy if the celebrated inscription had been written over the cage that Dante placed above the gate of hell, "All hope abandon, ye who enter here." There did seem absolutely no hope for me. I was there as a criminal, and I knew that life was held too cheaply in the South for my captors to be fastidious about disposing of an unknown stranger. I had heard the message from Ringgold, and at once comprehended its bearing against me. Nothing save a confession of my true character as a soldier and my real business in the South would be credited. The probability was that even this would only make my doom the more speedy. In that hour my most distressing thoughts were of the friends at home, and especially of my mother,--thinking what would be their sorrow when they heard of my ignominious fate,--if, indeed, they ever heard, for I had given "John Thompson" instead of my own name. That all my young hopes and ambitions, my fond dreams of being useful, should perish, as I then had no doubt they would, on a Southern scaffold, seemed utterly unbearable. But one moment only did these thoughts sweep over me; the next they were rejected by a strong effort of the will as worse than useless, and were followed by a sense of unutterable relief, for I could now rest. I had found a refuge even in prison, and needed no longer to keep every failing faculty at the utmost tension. The sweetness of rest for the moment overcame every other feeling save hunger, and that, too, was soon satisfied. The jailer brought some coarse food, which was devoured with exceeding relish. There was another prisoner in the same cage,--probably a detective, put in for the purpose of gaining my confidence and leading me to a confession. His first step was to plead ill health as an excuse for not eating his share of the prison food. I excused him, and ate his allowance as well as my own without difficulty. He then wished to talk, and asked me some questions, but I was in no mood for further conversation. Being cold I borrowed his prison blankets, of which he had a plentiful supply, and, wrapping myself up in them, soon sank into a deep sleep--profound and dreamless--such as only extreme fatigue can produce. The quaint advice contained in the last words of my companion, however, lingered in my memory. Said he,--