A group of three soldiers on a lark is not exactly the source that I would have applied to for information of an army's proposed movements six months later, but, as I have said, I was young then and fresh in the war service.
I approached, and addressed the boys a mild and meek inquiry as to a good place to enlist in "our army." This was a question that interested them all, and every fellow was at once eager to give me the desired information, which was to the effect that they had the very best Captain in the army.
They belonged to Louisiana, they said, and were recruits from New Orleans, and were on their way then to join the army at Manassas, having arrived in Richmond the day previously, and were laying over until the officer in charge secured some necessary transportation or other authority at the War Office.
I was urged to go with them. They declared that there was to be some great fun soon--that their officer knew all about it and had told them of the plan for the campaign.
The story they had did not differ materially from that I had heard from our own boys, and I judged safely enough that, as they were but recently from New Orleans, they could not know much more about the army at Manassas than I did. While we talked together these few moments, we all stood in a close group on one of the broad walks, the conversation being carried on with such a degree of earnestness on their part that we scarcely noticed the persons who were constantly passing us, until one of the Virginia police-soldiers came up to us with his gun and politely ordered the crowd not to block up the way. We moved off a little and sat down to finish the contract they had undertaken--of inducing me to join them.
The police-soldier walked off a little piece, and then, taking a position where two paths joined, he stood like one of the statues for a moment; then, as if suddenly imbued with life, his arms flew about as he brought his gun to a "present." Passing him were two gentlemen--one quite portly and red-faced, the other a slender thin-faced gentleman in a dark suit of steel gray. As they came closer, we all watched to see who they might be, as the guard had saluted. The big-faced gentleman was doing all the talking--the thin-faced one was close to me before I recognized him. He was so intent on hearing the old man's talk that he did not look toward us at all; and, after they had passed, I said to the soldiers: "That's President Davis!" They were, of course, all anxious to get another glimpse of their great man, and one of them hastily followed after while one of the others said in his slow, deliberate way: