I have thought much of that scene since, as I am steaming northward over green seas and under cloudless skies, and it has seemed very unreal. I should almost say supernatural when I reflect how I have run across this man again and again, and always opposing him. I can recall just how he looked at the slave auction, which seem, so long ago: very handsome, very boyish, and yet with the air of one to be deferred to. It was sufficiently remarkable that I should have found him in Vicksburg. But now--to be brought face to face with him in this old dining room in Goldsboro! And he a prisoner. He had not moved. I did not know how he would act, but I went up to him and held out my hand, and said.--"How do you do, Colonel Colfax?" I am sure that my voice was not very steady, for I cannot help liking him And then his face lighted up and he gave me his hand. And he smiled at me and again at the General, as much as to say that it was all over. He has a wonderful smile. "We seem to run into each other, Major Brice," said he. The pluck of the man was superb. I could see that the General, too, was moved, from the way he looked at him. And he speaks a little more abruptly at such times. "Guess that settles it, Colonel," he said. "I reckon it does, General," said Clarence, still smiling. The General turned from him to the table with a kind of jerk and clapped his hand on the tissue paper. "These speak for themselves, sir," he said. "It is very plain that they would have reached the prominent citizens for whom they were intended if you had succeeded in your enterprise. You were captured out of uniform You know enough of war to appreciate the risk you ran. Any statement to make?" "No, sir." "Call Captain Vaughan, Brice, and ask him to conduct the prisoner back." "May I speak to him, General?" I asked. The General nodded. I asked him if I could write home for him or do anything else. That seemed to touch him. Some day I shall tell you what he said. Then Vaughan took him out, and I heard the guard shoulder arms and tramp away in the night. The General and I were left alone with the mahogany table between us, and a family portrait of somebody looking down on us from the shadow on the wall. A moist spring air came in at the open windows, and the candles flickered. After a silence, I ventured to say: "I hope he won't be shot, General." "Don't know, Brice," he answered. "Can't tell now. Hate to shoot him, but war is war. Magnificent class he belongs to--pity we should have to fight those fellows." He paused, and drummed on the table. "Brice," said he, "I'm going to send you to General Grant at City Point with despatches. I'm sorry Dunn went back yesterday, but it can't be helped. Can you start in half an hour?" "Yes, sir."