Here occurred one of the romantic incidents of prison-life. We had been intensely anxious for some direct communication with our own army, but from our side there was no means of effecting it. One day, however, a man dressed in a rebel uniform came with the throng of visitors, and managed to talk quite a while, and, as I thought, in a very disconnected manner, with Andrews. I also thought I noticed an exchange of signs between them. As soon as he and the visitors had gone, and we were once more alone, Andrews told us that the man was a spy in the service of the United States, and that they had managed, even in the presence of the guard, and without exciting the least suspicion, to say all that was necessary, and that we might be assured that our friends on the other side of the lines would soon know all about us. I was a little incredulous, thinking that the great anxiety of our leader to communicate with some one who was a Federal spy, as he himself had been, had caused him to misunderstand this man, and supposed his signs recognized when they were not. But when the captain of our guard brought us supper, he lingered a little in conversation, and remarked that a most singular thing had taken place that afternoon, and that after this we would receive no more visitors. Being pressed for explanations, he finally gave them. He said that the provost-marshal of Madison had received information that one of Lincoln's spies was in town, and had even been among our visitors, though, the captain said, he was glad that the spy had found no opportunity to reveal himself to us! The marshal at once despatched a squad to arrest him. They found the suspected stranger at the depot, just as the cars were coming in. He was boisterously indignant at his arrest, and told them that he had papers in his pocket which would prove his character anywhere. They let go their hold on him, so that he might produce his papers. He lectured them roundly while pretending to search in his pockets, until he noticed that the train, which was starting, had attained a good degree of headway, and then, just as the last car swung by, he suddenly flung the soldiers from him and jumped aboard. There was no telegraph station at Madison, and no other train that evening, so that an effective pursuit was out of the question. The Confederates were very much enraged, and our confinement was rendered much more strict. But we felt ample compensation in the hope that our officers would now know just where we were, and be able to make all possible efforts for our safety. Whether the spy surmounted all other perils and got safely to our lines, we never heard.