Fifty years ago! Gracious me! It makes me think of my age to talk of it.
Yes, just fifty years ago was enacted the greatest tragedy the world
ever saw, THE CIVIL WAR.
I entered the service at twenty and one-half years of age and served
three and one-half years.
At different times I have told of some of my experiences, which seemed
to interest. Sometimes I have talked to literary men, story writers, who
have expressed a desire to write me up in magazines and newspapers, but
lack of the romantic in my make up, notwithstanding romance might be
seen in the stories which to me were but cold facts, has kept me from
consenting.
I am actuated now by other reasons. I have a lot of documents and
memoranda that are wearing out, liable to be mislaid or lost. In fact I
have already lost one document, a letter from General Lew Wallace, a
very valuable and important one (to me); it was his letter of
presentation to me of the Harry Gilmor sword, written on the eve of his
departure for Texas (on a secret mission, known only to Lincoln and
Grant), to receive the capitulation of the Confederate General
Slaughter, hence I feel that these matters ought to be recorded
somewhere.
The New York Historical Society and Columbia University have offered
some of these documents place in their archives. The affidavit and
signature of Paine, the Conspirator who attempted to assassinate
Secretary Seward, ought to be in some substantial depository as a link
in history. I presume it is the only finger mark extant of any of the
conspirators. The reason why I have not deposited it is that the
statement appears garbled, requiring me to explain the gaps and hidden
meanings between the lines, which I shall try to do in these pages.
Another motive for putting these experiences in writing, is in the
interest of Graham, and his children, Curtis, Evelyn and her children,
Nettie and DeLos. It is to be expected these younger ones will remain
longer here under the old Flag, and perhaps they may get some
consolation from the fact that some of their ancestors did something in
simple patriotism. Nettie has complained that her school history did not
mention her uncle. I told her I could only be found by reading "between
the lines," because there were so many "pebbles on the beach" besides
her uncle.
But how can I make it interesting? I am afraid I shall injure the facts
in trying to write them. A story writer might make a romance out of
almost any one of my stories, for he would dress it up so. Every day and
hour of my Secret Service experience was crowded with events; they came
swift one after another; for instance the Election Fraud case of 1864 to
which Appleton's Encyclopedia devotes columns, took less than five days
to develop; the story would take nearly as long to tell.