“You were not hurt, were you?” enquired his friend.

“The slight matter of a few minie balls, lodged in different parts of my body, is all the injury I received,” he answered.

“I suppose that occasioned your not coming with the first lot of prisoners,” Harry remarked.

“Yes,” he replied, “when the cartel was arranged and orders were given for the prisoners to prepare for their departure from Camp Douglas, I was still suffering from my wound, and the doctors declared me unable to move for several days.  An excited mind soon brought on fever, which so prostrated me that the days extended to weeks before I was able to leave the hospital.”

“I am heartily glad to see you once more safe on Confederate soil, at any rate,” observed Harry, and he added, “as I will insist upon your staying at my house while you are here, let me know where your baggage is, that I may hate it removed.”

“I am staying at the Burman House, but what little baggage I possess is at Vicksburg.”

“Then take a walk with me to the residence of Dr. Humphries,” said Harry, “and I will introduce you to my betrothed.”

“I thank you,” Alfred replied, “but the present state of my wardrobe does not admit of my appearing before ladies.”

“Pshaw,” observed Harry, “that is the least part of the question.  Let me know what you desire and I will get it for you directly.”

“I have about seven hundred dollars in Confederate money with me,” answered Alfred, “if you will show me some store where I can purchase a decent suit of clothes; that will be all I shall trouble you for.”

“Take a walk with me to Lemby’s clothing store and you will find a fine outfit there.”

Drawing Alfred’s arm in his, Harry conducted him to Lemby’s clothing store, where a suit of clothing was bought.  They then proceeded to the Bowman House and entered Alfred’s room.

“My furlough is only for thirty days,” Alfred remarked, while engaged in dressing himself, “and how I am to send in a letter to New Orleans and receive an answer before that time expires I cannot conjecture.”

“What do you wish to write to New Orleans for,” asked Harry.

“Why, to wife,” answered Alfred, “I think it is about time that she should hear from me.”

“My dear friend,” replied Harry, “your wife is not in New Orleans, she is in the Confederate lines.”

“Where is she?” he enquired, eagerly.

“I could not tell you that,” Harry answered, “but of one thing you may be certain, she is not in New Orleans.”

“How do you know that?” he asked.

“Dr. Humphries purchased a negro girl the day before I returned; she gave her name as Elsy, and said she was belonging to Mr. Alfred Wentworth, of New Orleans.  On being questioned why she had left the city, the girl said that her mistress with your two children had been forced to leave by Beast Butler, who would not allow her to go also, but that, being determined to follow your wife, she had ran the blockade and came into the Confederate lines.”.