This literary consignment nearly got not only myself but many other people into a peck of trouble, which I might as well tell of now, although it is somewhat ahead of my story. Returning to California, liking not the route through Mexico, I had the blockade runner land me at Aspinwall, where I joined the passengers of a Pacific Mail liner and embarked at Panama for the run north. As we were approaching San Francisco I became uneasy about my documents, fearing that enough about my movements might be known to cause a close personal search. On board the steamer was a lady long famous in California, Mrs. Charles S. Fairfax. Her husband was the lineal Lord Fairfax of the British peerage. She was a niece of John C. Calhoun, a woman of great beauty, wit and resourcefulness and an intense Southern sympathizer. We became rather confidential on the way up and I told her about the package and my fears. “Why, what stupid fools men are, anyhow,” she laughed, “give that package to me and set your mind at rest.” The suggestion looked good, for, of course, I could assume responsibility if the documents were found. That night Mrs. Fairfax left her door just a bit ajar and as I passed it something was slipped to her. No one saw the transfer. When we reached San Francisco what I feared came true. Not alone my luggage, but my person were subjected to a search that hardly overlooked my soul. While I was in the hands of the minions of the law, who seemed sadly disappointed over their fruitless quest, Mrs. Fairfax swept by in her stately way; all the same I seemed to catch a twinkle of humor in her eye. Two days later, the lady handed me the package. The seals were broken, but the contents intact. “You gave me a lot of bother,” said the lady, “I had to sit up all night sewing these wretched papers in my dress. What was worse still, I never dared to change it. Just imagine what the other women thought of me.” I passed the letters around to various leading lawyers, bankers, financiers, and so on. Without mentioning any names I told them how near they came to falling into Federal hands. Many a cheek paled and jaw dropped as they heard the story. We have been told much of what women did for the North, very little of what the women did for the South. That is a noble and inspiring story that remains to be told. But to return to Richmond. The Confederate cause seemed at its zenith. Everywhere was abounding confidence in the final result. And now came a whisper that a great battle would soon be fought that ought to be decisive. I was eager to see something of the war game and with letters from the Secretary of War, hurried westward, arriving at Corinth, Miss., on April 4, 1862. Here a small Confederate army was assembled under the same Albert Sidney Johnston, not exceeding 5,000 men. Nine miles away, General Grant was encamped at Shiloh with 35,000 men, confidently awaiting the arrival of General Buell with 30,000 more, to begin the invasion of the South.