On the night of October 16, 1863, having been confined in prison three
months, accompanied by one of my messmates, William L. Clay, I tied
my boots around my neck and in my sock feet climbed the prison fence,
twelve feet high, between two guards and made my escape. I still have
the handkerchief which I tied around my neck and from which my boots
swung down my back under my coat, on that occasion. I have it here in
my pocket. (This handkerchief was exhibited to the audience.) I have
kept it all these fifty-five years. It is a cotton handkerchief of the
bandana order. I do not know whether it is still intact or not. It
seems to be in fairly good condition. I have said I keep it, but the
truth is my wife did so as a cherished relic. My brother, Dr. R. French
Stone, who afterward practiced his profession at Indianapolis until
his death, five years ago, was then attending Rush Medical College at
Chicago. We found him next morning after making my escape as he was
entering the college building. He showed us over the city, and during
the day we dined at the Adams House, an excellent hotel. It was the
first “square meal” Clay and I had eaten in several months, and I have
often thought since that it was the best dinner I ate during the war.
My comrade and I left the city by the Illinois Central, going to
Mattoon, thence to Terre Haute, where we tarried at a German hotel two
days, most of the time playing pool, having written home to some of my
family to meet me there. After seeing two of my brothers and obtaining
some additional funds, we came by rail to Cincinnati, thence by boat
to Foster’s Landing, Ky., and from there footed it through Bracken,
Nicholas and Bourbon Counties. Clay separated from me in the latter
county. He died several years ago in this city, where he practiced
medicine, and is buried in our lot at Cave Hill. I attended his funeral.