About the last of March the army had reached Newport News, but no Eleventh.  What to do with myself?  The Doctor would not move his camp until the eve of battle, and he expressed the opinion that there would be no general engagement until we advanced much nearer to Richmond.

On the 2d of April, at supper, I told Dr. Khayme that I was willing to serve in the ranks of any company until the Eleventh should come.

“General McClellan has come, and your regiment will come in a few days,” he replied; “and I doubt if anybody would want you; the troops now here are more than are needed, except for future work.  Besides, you might do better.  You have good eyes, and a good memory as long as it lasts; you might make a secret examination of the Confederate lines.”

“A what?  Oh, you mean by myself?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think it practicable?” I asked.

“Should I have suggested it if I do not?”

“Pardon me, Doctor; but you were so sudden.”

“Well, think of it,” said he.

“Doctor, if you’ll put me in the way to do it, I’ll try it!” I exclaimed, for, somehow, such work had always fascinated me.  I did not wish to become a spy, or to act as one for a day even, but I liked the thought of creeping through woods and swamps and learning the positions and movements of the enemy.  In Charleston, in my school days, and afterward, I had read Gilmore Simms’s scouting stories with, eagerness, and had worshipped his Witherspoon.

“When will you wish to begin?” asked the Doctor.

“Just as soon as possible; this idleness is wearing; to-day, if possible.”

“I cannot let you go before to-morrow,” said he; “I must try to send you off properly.”

When Lydia came in that night, and was told of our purposes by the Doctor, I fancied that she became more serious instantly.  But she said little, and I could only infer that she might be creating in her brain false dangers for a friend.

By the next afternoon, which, was the 3d of April, everything was ready for me.  The Doctor showed me in his stores-tent a sober suit of gray clothes, not military clothes, but of a cut that might deceive the eye at a distance, yet when closer seen would exonerate the wearer from any suspicion that he was seriously offering himself as a Confederate.

“Now, I had to guess at it,” said the Doctor; “but I think it will fit you well enough.”

It did fit well enough; it was loose and comfortable, and, purposely, had been soiled somewhat after making.  The Doctor gave me also a black felt hat.

“Have you studied the map I gave you?” he asked.

“Yes, I can remember the roads and streams thoroughly,” I answered.

“Then do not take it; all you want is a knife and a few trivial things such as keys in your pocket, so that if you should be searched nothing can be proved.  Leave all your money in bills behind; coin will not be bad to take; here are a few Confederate notes for you.”