However, after
mature consideration and long debate, it was settled that I should, if
possible, be mounted before starting, instead of trusting to chance
beyond the border. This, of course, decided the selection of routes: no
quadruped could cross the Lower Potomac.
Some scores of miles up the country there lived, and I trust lives
still, a certain small horse-dealer, a firm Secessionist at heart, well
versed in the time-tables of the road southward; indeed, his house was,
as it were, a principal station on the underground railway. He was
reputed trustworthy, and fairly honest in traffic. I can indorse this
conscientiously, only hoping that such a remarkable characteristic as
the last named will not identify the individual to his hurt. I was at
once put into communication with Mr. ---- Symonds, let us call him, for
the sake of old hippic memories. He spoke confidently as to my ultimate
prospects of getting across, without pretending to fix an exact day, or
even week. Shortly before my arrival he had forwarded several travelers,
who arrived at their journey's end without the slightest let or
hindrance. I suppose there is no indiscretion in saying that Lord
Hartington and Colonel Leslie were among the fortunate ones. Mr. Symonds
"thought he had something that would suit me," and, a few days later,
the animal and the dealer paraded for inspection in Baltimore.
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