Qass Book. ©f^fi^i i,piifi»f . SOUTHERN PRISONS; OR, JOSIE, THE MeROINE OF FlORENCE FOUR YEARS OF BATTLE AND IMPRISONMENT. Richmond, Atlanta, belle isle, andersontille and florence, S0mplcte Sistorg of all ^out^crn prisons, EMBEACINO A THRILLING EPISODE OF ROMANCE AND LOYE. MORGAN E. DOWLING, "We speak tbo truth, though it shake tha uaiverse.' DETROIT: published by WILLIAM ^GEAHAM, Jl BATES ST. 1870. £nt9r«d «c«ording to Act >{ Congress, in the year 1S70, by , MORGAN E. BOWLING, Ib the United States District Clerk's Office of the Eastern District of Michi^aji. ^n"i-v- William E. Eael, iroOD ZNOKATXB. OXTBOIT. THE MEMORY OF JOSIE. THE LOVED AND LOST; iND TO THE DEAD UNION SOLDIERS WHO PERISHED IN SOUTHERN PRISONS I, A COMPANION CF ALL THEIR MISFORTUNES, SAVE L'LATH, DEDI- CATE THIS WORK. MAY IT AT LEAST FAINTLY TELL THF STORY OF THE BARBARISM OF SOUTHERN REBELS, AND THE GALLANTRY AND PATIENt E OF UNION SOLDIERS. K. E. D. What scenes appear where'er I turn my view ! The dear ideas, where'er I fly, pursue. Rise in the grave, before the altar rise. Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes. I waste the matin lamp in sighs for thee. Thy image steals between my God and me. Thy voice I seem in every hymn to hear. With every bead I drop too soft a tear. When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll. And swelling organs lift the rising soul. One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight, Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight . In seas of flame my plunging soul is drown'd, While altars blaze, and angels tremble round. Pope' a El ILLUSTRATIONS PASl. FRONTISPIECE, - - . . 1 CHARGE OF THE SEVENTEENTH MICHIGAN AT SOUTH MOUN- TAIN, 22^ MY CAPTURE, BELLE ISLE, . . - -48 THE OLD FLAG IN SIGHT, - - 92 INTERIOR VIEW OF ANDERSONVILLE, 97 OUR CONFLICT WITH THE GUARD, 107 THE GRAVE YARD AT ANDERSONVILLE, 134 THE DEAD LINE, - 170 PHOTOGRAPHS OF HORROR, - 223 THE SPREAD EAGLE STOCKS, 262 OUR MEETING, 272 MISS JOSIE SEYMOUR, 280 HORSEBACK EXCURSION, - 287 JOSIE'S INTERCESSION, - 297 MY RE-IMPRISONMENT AT FLORENCE, 823 MY PAROLE WITHDRAWN, 344 JOSIE'S DEATH, - 804 CONTENTS. PREFACE, Pagi 18 CHAPTER I. THE SEVENTEENTH MICHIGAN. The Author's Enlistment and his Motives. — The Movement to the Potomac. — South Mountain and Antietam. — Transfer West and the Siege of Knoxville. — His Capture 17 CHAPTER II. OPENING REBEL ATROCITIES. Robbery of the Prisoners. — Spectacle of the Battle Field. — Miserable Rations Pro* ided. — The Haunted Court House 28 CHAPTER III. ARRIVAL AT ATLANTA. The Prison and its Occupants. — I find Friends indeed. — Plan of Escape Frustrated. — Preparations for Moving to Belle Isle 34 CHAPTER IV. DEPARTURE FOR RICHMOND. The Rebel Capitol.— The Belle Isle Prison.— Horrible SuflFerings of the Prisoners. __ 44 CHAPTER V. REBEL BARBARITIES. Brutal Treatment of the Wounded Prisoners. — Modes of Torture Adopted. — The Wooden Horse. — Rumors of Exchange. — Thw Quantity of Rations Issued. — New Years's Day on the IsLmd. — The Hospital and the Dead. — The State of the South. »4 vm coi^TEisrTs. CHAPTER VI. THE ATTEMPTED ESCAPE. Delicious Dog Soup. — Horrible State of the Prison. — Abortive At- tempt to Escape. — Hoffman and myself are "Wounded. — We are sent to Castle Thunder _ _. 67 CHAPTER VII. CORROBORATING TESTIMONY. Authoritative Evidence gathered from Richmond Prisoners. — A col- lection of Horrors 75 CHAPTER VIII. AN EPITOME OF ADVENTURE. The Notorious Gen. Winder. — Our Removal to Anderson ville. — Tes- timony of Surgeon A. Chapel. — Hoffman and myself Escape from the Train. — We are Captured by Indians and Regain our Lib- erty. .-- --- - 80 CHAPTER IX. OUR RE-CAPTURE. Skirmish with the Rebel Cavalry. — The old Flag in sight when Cap- tured. — We are sent to Atlanta again. — I see Miss Seymour for a moment. 92 CHAPTER X. ANDERSON VILLE. The Stockade Prison. — The Swamp and River. — The Dead Line. — Great Throng of Prisoners. — Twenty-three days of Rain. — The Great Flood. — No Shelter. — Horrible Sufferings and Brutal Treat- ment 96 CHAPTER XL THE ESCAPE AND RECAPTURE. The Southern Swamps. — The Runaway Slaves. — Their home in the Swamps. — Pursued by Bloodhounds. — Increased Brutality by Wirtz. — The Torture Racks. — Shooting of the Prisoners 106 CHAPTER XIL THE DEAD HOUSE. A Rebel Sees a Ghost. — Capture of the 17th Michigan Regiment. — Sad News from Home. — Plan of Escape. — I am carried to th« COJ^TENTS. IX Dead House. — "Wirtz Again. — The Prison Raiders. — Execution of the Leaders. — Organization of 1 G Police 117 CHAPTER XIIx. THE DEATH OP HOFFMAN. Tunnels dug by the Prisoners. — A successful Escape. 125 CHAPTER XIV, BURYING THE DEAD. An Attack of the Scurvy. — Hideous Modes of Interment. — Terrible Violence of Wirtz. — The Heroic Conduct of a Catholic Priest. 132 CHAPTER XV. THE MONSTER WIRTZ. His Early Life and Character. — The Treatment of Prisoners of War by the Rebels contrasted with the Usages of Civilized Nations, by Augustus Choate Hamlin. — Regulations of the United States. — Appearance of Anderson ville. — Brutal Order of Brig.-Gen. John H. Winder. __. 139 CHAPTER XVI. THE PRISONERS' MEMORIAL. Their Address from Andersonville to the President. — A Pathetic and Truthful Appeal .-_ _. 160 CHAPTER XVII. TESTIMONY OF SOLDIERS. Additional Horrors Unfolded. — A Plain Unvarnished Tale 166 CHAPTER XVIII. THE EVIDENCE FROM WIRTZ'S TRIAL. Quotations from Ambrose Spencer. — Facts Developed upon that Trial. — Sufferings at Andersonville. — Character of the Testimony. — The Stockade. — The Cook-House. — The Hospital. — The Dead-House. — Condition of the Stockade. — Testimony of Medical Officers. — Causes of Disease and Mortality. — Preventive Measures. — Colonel Chandler's Report. — -Colonel Gibb's Testimony. — Evidence of Rebel Officers and Soldiers. — Evidence of residents of Georgia. — Condition of the Hospital. — Charges and Specifications. — Addi- tional Testimony of Brutality. . 175 2 X CONTENTS. CHAPTER XIX. AN EPISODE OF LOVE. I visit a Planter's House, and there again meet Miss Seymour. — A Union of Hearts 247 CHAPTER XX. REMOVAL TO FLORENCE. The Grave Diggers Escape and are Recaptured. — The "Spread Eagle Stocks." — The Dead Line. — Fearful Misery among the Prisoners. I again Escape and reach Miss Seymour's Home. — Our Meet- ing — I take up my Residence in the Negro Cabins. — The Servant- Bob .._ 261 CHAPTER XXI. AN EARTHLY PARADISE. My Residence at the Mansion. — The Loyal League. — Sweet Inter views and Moonlight Rides 277 CHAPTER XXII. MR. SEYMOUR'S RETURN. Miss Seymour's Governess. — Return of Mr. Seymour. — His Discovery of me. — Angry Interview. — His Daughter's Prayers at last trium- phant __ . ". 289 CHAPTER XXIII. MY ILL-FATED MARRIAGE. I am Recaptured on the day of my "Wedding. — My Enlistment in the Rebel Service. — I Desert while on Guard Duty during the night — I see Josie again. — The Rebel Cavalry in Pursuit. — A Hurried Ride. — I become 111 in the Woods and Seek a Shelter 299 CHAPTER XXIV. A MOURNFUL INCIDENT. I Seek Refuge. — The Old Lady's Death. — I Prosecute my Journey, but am again Recaptured 305 CHAPTER XXV. ONCE MORE FREE. 1 am Brutally Treated on my Return to Florence. — Condition of the Prison. — Not a Friend Left. — I Escape to the Loyal League. 325 CONTENTS. XI CHAPTER XXVI. PAROLE AT FLORENCE. The Loyal Leaguer's Home. — His Beautiful Daughter, — My Recap- ture. — My Parole and Interviews with my Wife. — Mr. Seymour's Departure for Europe. 331 CHAPTER XXVIL WAITING FOR EXCHANGE. My Parole "Withdrawn. — The Position of my Wife. — Continued Im- prisonment at Florence. — I Determine no longer to attempt Escape. — Pinal view of my Prison Experience.. 343 CHAPTER XXVIII. OTHER SOUTHERN PRISONS. The Leading Places of Confinement at the South not already Des- cribed. — Treatment of the Officers. — Junius Henri Browne on the Treatment of the Prisoners at Salisbury. — Intense Suffering and Wholesale Murder of the Captives. — Pen Pictures of the Prison. — Agonizng Scenes. — Enlistment of our Soldiers in the Rebel Service. — Shuddering Strangeness of the Past. — The Secretary of War Respionsible for the Sacrifice of Ten Thousand Lives... 353 CHAPTER XXIX. THE TESTIMONY OF OTHER AUTHORS. Corroborative Evidence. — Junius Henri Browne's Description of Im- prisonment. — Testimony of Capt. W. W. Glazier. — Mrs. A. P. Hanaford and Lieut. Colonel Cavada. — The Sanitary Commission's Report. — Experience of Ira E. Forbes. — Evidence of the Rebels Themselves. — Albert D. Richardson at Salisbury. — Report of the Committee of Inquiry 374 CHAPTER XXX. THE REBEL PLOT. The Argument of Benson J. Lossing. — The Views of Senator How- ard, of Michigan 391 CHAPTER XXXI. VALUABLE DOCUMENTS. Medical Report of Dr. Ellerslie Wallace. — The Opinion of Reliable Scientific Authorities. — Treatment of the Rebel Prisoners by the XU CONTENTS, United States contrasted with the Treatment of the Union Pris- oners by the Rebel Authorities. — Letter of Major General Butler on thb Exchange Question 'il*^ CHAPTER XXXII. THE END AT LAST. I am Exchanged Dec. 13. — The famous City of Charieston. — My Return to my Home. — Visit to New York and Philadelphia. — Life and its Misfortunes — Dissipation and the Result. — Our Young Ladies and Society, — Young Men and Business. — Re- union with my Regiment. — Army Life. — The Poetry and Reality of War. — How will Posterity look upon those Military Burial Places? 440 CHAPTER XXZIIL THE GRAND REVIEW. Close of the War. — The Great Review of the Armies. — The City of Washington. — My Discharge from the Army 490 CHAPTER XXXIV. JOSIE'S DEATH. My Return to Florence and Restoration to my Wife. — Return to the North. — Her Sinking Away and Death 498 PREFACE Now I will unclasp a secret book. And to your quick conceiving discontents I'll read you matter deep and dangerous; As full of peril and adventurous spirit. As to o'erwalk a current, roaring loud. On the unsteadfast footing of a spear. Shakspean. In this book I, a private first, and subsequently a sergeant in the Seventeenth Regiment Michigan Volun- teers, having served throughout the whole of the great civil war, and having experienced alike the fury of the enemy in great battles, and their cruelty towards the prisoners who were so unfortunate as to fall into their hands, shall tell a plain, unadorned story of how we, the common soldiers, fought and how we suffered. The theme is one which can never die nor ever grow old. It stands out gigantic from the page of our history, the greatlragedy of the American Nation. As its events and character become more thoroughly understood, in- terest in everything which appertains to it deepens, and the nation constantly seeks new light and fuller informa- tion regarding the grand theme. Much has already been written concerning the Rebei lion, its military, political and prison phases, but all these accounts are very imperfect in a great measure, because they were compiled so soon after the close of the 14 PKUrACB. war that adequate time had not been given for the col- lection of authentic materials, and for the dying out of sectional prejudice, which greatly disfigures many of the books upon this subject. I had long hoped that the vacancy in the field occa- sioned by the want of a full and correct account of the suiferings of the private Union soldiers in the rebel pri- sons, might be filled by some other person, and that I might thus avoid the labor of so great a work. But, inasmuch as not one has done this, I feel it to be a sacred duty to the soldiers who died in imprisonment at the South, to the cause of humanity, and to the Michigan Volunteers, of whose unsurpassed gallantry and heroism luring the war nothing has been written, that the full "acts concerning the Southern prisons should be depicted. For more than a year I was, myself, confined in the three great prisons of the South — Bell Isle, Andersonville and Florence — and in this work I first narrate my own personal experience of the barbarism which characterized the Confederates in their treatment of captives; and though the chapter of misery is a dark one, and the conclusion is unavoidable that the acts of the rebels were the pro- duct of a deep and diabolical plot to torture and murder the Union prisoners, yet this conclusion is no hasty one, nor the ofi'spring of passion and prejudice. My own narrative is here supported by an accumulation of evi- dence from all the best authorities upon this subject, which can leave no doubts remaining in the mind of any reader. Nearly five years after the close of the war, when the feelings which attended the strife have in great measure died away, every person perusing this book must be entirely satisfied of the character of the leaders and people of the South during the conflict, and of the PREFACE. anexampled cruelty and ferocity which they exhibited in carrying it on. And in framing this dark conclusion, I do it with no desire to inflame sectional passions, or again to rouse that bitterness between North and South which I trust is buried forever. But it is fitting that future generations should know the truth, and the whole truth, concerning this most important matter. This I shall attempt to convey in this volume, and for the atro- cities of the war and its accompanying prisons, the South must answer to its God. I earnestly trust that among the coming generation of the Southern people, the spirit of barbarism which was born of and fostered by slavery, may indeed be found extinct. My personal narrative is a truthful record of events as they passed, and the somewhat romantic episode which accompanies it is but the plain detail of a beauti- ful, but sad, chapter in my life, which will haunt my memory forever. In this passage of happiness and love, I am not alone among the Northern soldiers who became forcibly domiciled at the South. There were many others who formed friendships as strong, won love as enduring ; let us hope their bliss was of longer duration. And now I commend my story to the gpntle and just judgment of an enlightened public, confident that my motives will be appreciated, and that the completeness and fairness of the account here given will be recognized. I humbly trust, also, that my effort to furnish to the world full and accurate information upon this subject may be respected by the future. The collection of the evidence by which my statements has been supported, has been a work of great labor, and has cost much time. On that account the work now is more complete. I trust it may through all future time be found a standard 16 PREFACE. authority upon the dark, but all-interesting subject. It embraces the testimony of historians, of all the best authors who have written upon the theme, of rebel offi- cers, and of Union soldiers of all ranks, and may thus justly be deemed complete and unrivalled in its accuracy and fullness of detail. The Author. CHAPTER I. THE SEVENTEENTH MICHIGAN. The Author's Enlistment and His Motives. — The Movement to the Potomac. — South Mountain and Antietam. — Transfer West and the Siege of Knoxville. — His Capture. To fight in a just cause and for our country's glory. Is the best office of the best of men; And to decline when these motives urge. Is infamy beneath a coward's baseness. Harvard's Hegulus. Amot^g all the gallant regiments which upheld the janse of liberty and a united nation, during the great war of the Rebellion, probably none has won a more glorious or more highly deserved reputation than the Seventeenth Michigan Infantry, to which I had the honor to belong. Many circumstances contributed to my de- termination to enter the army. IN'otwithstanding my sit- uation was unusually pleasant in Detroit, where my home was at the breaking out of the war, and notwithstanding my future prospects were as brilliant as those of most young men engaged in commercial life, yet a love of ad- venture always entertained, and, still more, an affection for the country which had nurtured and cherished me, determined me to enter the army, and no more prom- ising regiment attracted attention than the Seventeenth, which was then in process of organization. I write this narration of my experience of, and sufferings in rebel 18 BOITTHEEN PKISONS ; prisons, mainly because the histories formeriy written are those only of officers and newspaper correspondents, who, though doubtless subjected to many indignities and hardships, yet never experienced a tithe of the hard- ships undergone by the privates, and who have never had fully told their sufferings and trials. In these men whom the bone and sinew of the country gave to the army, the American people are as deeply interested as in the fate of their most gallant officers. Our regiment was swiftly filled up, the patriotic fever running high in view of the desperate struggle which had been going forward on the Peninsula between Gens. McClellan and Lee, and embracing nine hundred and eighty -two officers and men, it moved from its rendez- vous at Detroit, on the twenty-seventh day of August, 1862, for the front, its immediate destination being the city of Washington. It was commanded by Col. Wm, A. Withington, a man of the most unquestioned bravery, and one whose after record proved as brilliant as that of any colonel in the army ; the other officers were, too, gen- tlemen of gallantry, and generally of decided skill and considerable experience. Indeed a pleasanter body of officers it would have been difficult to find in the army, and the rank and file was of the first order, so that great things were expected from the regiment, and it did not disappoint the anticipations of its friends. The march through the streets of Detroit, on the way to the steamer which was to convey the regiment to Cleveland, will long be remembered. The troops were excellently drilled and presented a magnificent appear- ance, completely filling the broad avenaes through which they passed, and the streets and sidewalks were crowded with ladies and citizens, admiring the noble dis- OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OP FLOEENOE. 19 play, and bidding the regiment God speed in its career, while not a few gazed sadly on, reflecting on the fearful gaps which must be made in those gallant ranks ere the regiment should return to its native State, and sadly wondering whom of the brave men they should see on the return parade through the streets of Detroit. The regiment was, however, in high spirits, and by ten o'clock was all embarked on the Cleveland steamer. Cleveland was reached next morning, after a pleasant sail, and the troops were at once embarked on the cars for the city of Pittsburgh, Pa., which was reached on the evening of August twenty-eighth. A grand recep- tion was accorded to us here by the patriotic ladies and citizens of Pittsburgh, a handsome supper was served in the city hall, across the end of which there was inscribed this inscription: "Pittsburgh welcomes her country's defenders." It is a well known fact that the regiments which came from Michigan were a cause of no little sur- prise to those States in the east, where great numbers of troops were raised, and where the same discipline, per- fection of equipment, and general efficiency were rarely seen ; so that the utmost enthusiasm w-as always man- ifested whenever a Michigan or other regiment from the extreme Ncrthwestern States passed through the great cities. Pittsburgh being left that night, the morning light of Friday, August twenty-ninth, saw the regiment ap- proaching the National Capitol, which was then threat- ened by the triumphant rebels. Pope having been over- thrown in northern] Virginia, which was overrun by con- federate cavalry, while Gen. Lee was moving swiftly up the Shenandoah Valley and preparing to cross into, and excite insurrection in Maryland. 20 SOUTHERN PBISONS , The regiment was ordered into camp near Washing- ton, and with one or two false alarms, we remained in- active for about a week, learning, meanwhile, of the final defeat of Pope, and Lee's intention of crossing into Mary- land and invading the North. At last, on the eighth of September, the welcome order to march came, and being relieved by the Twenty-Fourth Michigan Infantry, which left Detroit on the day subsequent to our departure, we broke up camp at Fort Baker, and marched through Washington at midnight, the favorite hour for moving troops in the vicinity of the Capitol, as their movements at that time excited less attention, and were the more likely to escape the notice of Secessionists and Rebel Spies. Daybreak found us well on the way to Leesburg, and it became known throughout the regiment that we were to join the Ninth Corps. On the tenth of Septem- ber we came up with the corps, and were assigned a pos- ition in its ranks. Major General Burnside being the commander, in which position he continued during a large j)art of the war, except when in charge of the whole army during the campaign of Fredericksburg. It was evident that heavy lighting, and probably a pitched battle, were not far distant, and passing rapidly, but quietly, through the villages of Brookville, Newmar- ket and Damascus, on the night of September twelfth, we reached the city of Frederick, Maryland, as the rear- guard of the rebel forces withdrew. This rear-guard was attacked and swiftly driven back towards the ridge of lofty hills which intervene between Frederick and Lees- burg, near which Lee's army was mainly concentrated. For the first time I and many of the regiment saw the realities of war, the dead of both armies lying unburied along the road by which the rebels retreated, but the ' - OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 21 rebel dead outnumbering the union dead fully three to one, muskets and other arms being scattered along the road side, and frightened dwellers momentarily expect- ing a great battle, and being prepared to fly with their families in case the conflict surged towards them. During most of September thirteenth we lay at Fred- erick, watching with intense interest, but great nonchal- ance for an untried regiment, the movements of Major Gen. Pleasanton, as with his cavalry and batteries he steadily forced the rear-guard over the Monocacu hills, where the puff's of smoke could clearly be seen, and the rattling of the flying batteries could plainly be heard. At four o' clock in the afternoon, however, came a sudden order to march, and we moved through Frederick, and struck the Sharpsberg turnpike, along which the enemy had retreated. The march was continued until mid- night, when the regiment was ordered into camp, and bivouacked for the night near Middletown. At early morning we were again on the move, and soon came on the right of the Confederates, who were posted in Tur- ner's Gap, and on the side of South Mountain, where we could distinguish the puff's of smoke, as their artillery fired down into the lower grounds, and threw shell, even, over our own lines. Our division was ordered to move to the left onto the old Sharpsberg road, leaving the road by which we had been advancing. When about half way up the mountain, the enemy appeared above us in strong force, and commenced a heavy fire of artillery and musketry upon our advancing column. The troops were at once formed into line across the road and ordered to lie down, in which position we remained for nearly five hours, until every man in the division was weary of in action, and anxious, at all hazards, to push forward and 22 SOUTHERN PBISONS; meet the enemy in open battle. At last, about four o'clock in tlie afternoon the welcome order to move np the mountain came, and the line at once was pnt in mo- tion. Above us, near the crest of the mountain, behind two lines of strong stone fences and temporary breast- works, lay the rebel infantry, Drayton's South Caro- lina Brigade lying directly in front of our own regiment. The advance of our brigade was swift and regular, no firing characterizing its onward movement, though soon exposed to a deadly succession of volleys of musketry, and torn by shell and cannon shot ; but at length, when within easy musket range of the Confederates, the divi- sion opened a tremendous fire upon them, and for nearly an hour a deadly infantry contest was waged for the possession of the crest of the mountain, the key of the position, and which it was absolutely necessary to carry to secure a passage for the army to the vicinity of Sharps- berg, and to attempt the relief of Harper' s Ferry, which, however, had already fallen into the hands of Stonewall Jackson, a misfortune then unknown to the leaders of the Union forces. The regiment, at last, growing impa- tient at the undecisive nature of the musketry contest, rushed forward, charged over the two stone fences, utterly broke the rebel line, captured several hundred prison- ers, and utterly routed the enemy, having inflicted on them a loss far greater than that suffered by the Union forces, and hav,mg gained the position fought for, and cleared the way for the advancing Union colums. The Seventeenth Regiment had fought its first battle, had won imperishable renown, and acquired for itself tne sobriquet of the *' Stonewall Regiment," a title which it bore throughout the war. Its conduct was the more noic worthy, as it was a new regiment, having never been ^sm\trk^^f'^'f nm: OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 23 in action "before, associated with veteran regiments, and yet surpassing all in gallantry, dash and efficiency. Of my own feelings during this "battle, my first expe- rience of actual war, I need only say that after the first close clash of musketry, I thought of naught, save the fight and the necessity and possibility of driving the enemy over the hill. I shared in the general joy over the brilliant reputation which the regiment had won, and in the sorrow and pity for the fallen brave, of whom there were, alas, too many. Lying on our arms on the blood stained crest of the mountain during the night, and refreshing our wearied bodies as much as could be done under the circumstan- ces. On September fifteenth we moved down the other side of the mountain towards Sharpsberg, in the direction of which town the enemy had retired, and where it was already generally expected that the great battle was to be fought. During most of that night and the day of the sixteenth, we lay near Reedysville, it being clear that both armies were gathering together their forces and pre- paring for the dreadful struggle so soon to come. Sev- eral times during the night of the sixteenth we were moved into different positions, and the morning of the seventeenth, which will always be famous as the anni- versary of the great battle of Antietam, or Sharpsberg. found us posted upon the slope of Elk Ridge, about two miles from the village of Sharpsberg, and on the left of the Union line. "We saw the desperate conflict carried on by Hooker and Mansfield on the right, and took part with Burnside in his carrying the bridge, but on our side of the field undecisive success was achieved, and night closed over the bloody field where fully twelve thousand Union soldiers lay dying, dead or mutilated, and at least 2^ BOTJTHEEN PKIS0TT3 ; an equal number of the enemy, with no results decisive of the contest, though many of the Union forces had not been engaged at all, and our army was certainly in the better condition to renew the contest. The failure to take advantage of the weakness and distress of the enemy, the uncertainty and delay, the escape of the foe, the reckless and almost criminal disaster at Edward's Ferry, where a handful of men thrown across the Potomac without sup- port were almost entirely destroyed by the enemy, the long delay when the river was finally crossed by the army, the march to the Rappahannock, and the removal of Gen. McClellan, are matters which are now a part of our history, and which spread a deep gloom over the whole country, increased only by the subsequent dis- asters of Fredericksburgli and Chancellorsville. After the battle of Fredericksburgh ensued one of those periods of inactivity which happen so frequently in the life of a soldier, and often continue so long. Both armies were exhausted by the terrific campaigns of the season just past, and went into a long camp, with the dark waters of the Rappahannock rolling between them, and separating the rival combatants, who would otherwise have inaugurated a winter' s campaign, and shed each other's blood on the snow and frozen hillsides. The camp of General Burnside's army was not devoid of at- tractions, and the soldiers whiled away the time enjoy- ably enough. On the fourteenth day of February, the Ninth Corps, to which my regiment was attached, started for the Peninsula, moving by rail to Acquia Creek, and thence by steamer to Newport News, going into camp on the river that has now become historic — the James. The line of camp was a line of battle, nearly three miles long, the difi'erent regimental grounds being OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OP FLOEENOE. 25 regularly laid out into streets, adorned with evergreens, walks, borders, arches and ornamental shrubs. Here the regiment remained quietly until March 19, 1863, thus not taking part in the disastrous campaign of Chancel- lorsville. The orders which came on that day broke up the camp like snow dissolving before a warm spring sun, and within a few hours the regiment was on its way to Balti- more in transports. A very heavy northeast storm detained us in Hampton Roads, and we did not reach Baltimore till March twenty-second. An embarkation on the cars immediately followed, and journeying over the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, and by steamers down the Ohio from Parkersville, Va., we arrived in Louisville, March twen- ty-sixth, and it became evident that we were to be trans- ferred to the army of the new commander, who was just beginning to attract notice. Gen. Grant, though for a period we were under the immediate command of other officers. March twenty-eighth, we moved down into Kentucky, arriving at Bardstown on the next day. April second we advanced to Lebanon, a beautiful little town, and April twenty- seventh we pushed still further south, arriving at Columbia on the twenty- ninth. After chasing the notorious John Morgan for several days, and hunting up guerillas for several weeks, we were suddenly ordered back to Lebanon, marching sixty-five miles in two days, and that, too, in heavy marching order, and under a summer sun, reaching Lebanon June fifth. Thence we moved at once to Louisville, and, crossing the Ohio, took cars for Cairo, HI., it being evident that at last we were to be under Grant personally, and aid him in his operations against Vicksburg. Ou passage through Lidiana and Illinois was a grand tri- 26 SOITTHEEN PRISONS; nmpli, the inhabitants turning out almost en masse^ and welcoming "Burnside's Corps." A speedy and fortu- nate passage down the Mississippi "brought us to Haines Bluff, June seventeenth, and from that time till July- fourth, the date of the surrender of Yicksburg, we co- operated in the brilliant movements of Grant. After the capture of Pemberton and his army, the Ninth Corps was moved out to Jackson, to drive back or capture Joe Johnston. This officer, however, evacuated the city in haste, and retreated into the interior, and the Mississippi campaign having been brought to a triumphant conclu- sion, we were, August third, moved back to Cairo, thence to Cincinnati, and thence to Nicholasville, Ky., where Gen. Burnside again took command, having been absent from his corps during its operations in the Vicksburg campaign. Gen. Burnside was preparing for bis march on Knox- ville, and by successive journeys, sometimes marching on the roads, and sometimes moving on the cars for short distances, we reached Knoxville September twenty- fourth, and remained in front of the city in camp, occa- sionally making excursions against the enemy, until the month of November. For some days rumors had been floating about that Longstreet, with his corps of the army of Virginia, and some troops drawn from the army of Georgia, was about to invade Eastern Tennessee, and on November fourteenth the rumors received confir- mation by the order for the Seventeenth to break camp and march to Hough's Ferry. When we arrived on the ground we found the Twenty-Third Corps, which was also at Knoxville under Gen. Burnside, hotly engaged, and a part of Longstreet' s force abeady over the river. It seems at first to have been intended to attack the OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OP FLOEENOE. 27 troops who had already crossed, but for some reason this plan, which appeared to promise brilliant results, was abandoned, and the two corps were early in the morning put in full retreat, the brigade to which I was attached 'sonstituting the rear-guard. It was desired to reach KnoxvDle, and the commander had determined to stand a siege until he should be relieved by Gen. Grrant. No sooner, however, had we got fairly onto the road than the rebels set out in close pursuit, and within a few hours came up with the rear-guard. From this point a running fight was maintained until we reached Turkey Creek, near Campbell's Station, where it became necessary for our brigade to make a stand, that the main body of the force might cross in safety. The latter object was at- tained, but at the cost of a desperate fight on the other shore, in which my regiment, consisting of the rear- guard, suffered heavy losses. At last the order to retire across the creek was brought to the weary rear-^ard, but too late for the safety of many of those who had kept the rebels at bay so long. Many were killed and wounded in the desperate rush which the rebels made on the retiring rear-guard, and myself and seventeen others were taken prisioners. In this action Capt. John Tyler, of our regiment, received a severe wound in the left hand, which after sometime it was found necessary to amputate, and he was therefore necessarily retired from active service. He is now Brevet Major in the Regular Army, and Acting Assistant Quartermaster General at Fort Wayne, Detroit. He was always a gallant officer, and has maintained that reputation both in the volunteer and regular service. S8 SOUTHEEN PEISONS. CHAPTER II. OPENING REBEL ATROCITIES. Robbery of the Prisoners. — Spectacle of the Battle Field. — Miserable Rations Provided. — The Haunted Court House. O, breasts of pity void ! t' oppress the weak. To point your vengeance at the friendless head. And with one mutual cry insult the fallen ! Emblem too just of man's degenerate race. «r*iUe'i Chase. Heretofore, the events which I have narrated have been those great features of the war with which every person in this country is to a great extent familiar, and I have consequently sketched them but briefly, and spoken but little of myself or the share I had in them, inasmuch as my part was but the same as that taken by thousands of others, and possessed no special interest ; but in the future my adventures were peculiar to myself, such as rarely fell to the lot of a prisoner, and I must shortly leave tne tale of the strug- gling Union and rebel armies, and tell the story of suf- fering, endurance and dearly bought patience, relieved, however, by some of the most endearing associations of my life, which have implanted memories in my heart never to be erased. At once, on our being captured, myself and several other unfortunates who had been taK:en, including eighteen of the Seventeenth, were marched to the rear of OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 29 the rebel line and placed under gnard. Indeed, our guard soon grew to "be quite alarming from its size, caused by the fact that throughout the woods, and in an old house on the top of the hill to which we h ad been taken, were gathered scores of demoralized rebels, anxiously waiting for something to turn up which should give them an opportunity of seeming employed, and furnish an excuse for their not returning to a battle field altogether too exciting to suit their tastes. They therefore welcomed our advent with ill-concealed joy, and at once betook themselves to the task of guarding us, evincing an energy and alacrity that they thought must be acceptable to any officer. Their dreams of quiet and peace were, however, soon rudely broken in upon by the coming up of a captain, who peremptorily ordered them forward into the line of battle, at the same time making some exceedingly strong remarks neither complimentary to their courage nor patriotism. From the hill where we were stationed we could plainly see the varying fortunes of the battle in the valley at our feet, bordering the creek where the rebels made several desperate charges on the rear-guard, but were invariably repulsed, until the order for the whole Union forces to retire further, temporarily put a stop to it. Soon Longstreet ordered his forces forward in pur- suit, and we were left alone with our guard. First, all were plundered of their valuables, money, watches, rings, and even little keepsakes, the gifts of mother, sister or sweetheart. Next we were ordered by our captors to assist in carrying off the wounded and bury- ing the dead, a work not unpleasant to us, as it enabled us to be of service to many of the brave and suffering men of our own regiment and army. We cared as ten- 30 SOUTHERN prisons; derly for them as the narrow means at hand would per- mit, and then set about performing the same offices for the enemy' s fallen. A small number of these, however, were found wounded. Most had been killed outright, being fatally shot while rushing close on to the Union rear guard. Those who were wounded were borne to the rear, and the dead of both armies were then hastily buried, yet so that the earth would protect their remains. It was nine o'clock at night when we had finished our sad labors, and no rations were served to us that night, but weary, hungry and cold, we threw ourselves down upon the ground, made memorable by the desperate battle which had there been fought, and sought to catch a few hours sleep, preparatory to the march southward, of which we had already been warned. Early in the morning we were awakened by heavy cannonading that told of fierce fighting on the road to Knoxville, and were informed by our guard that we should be moved South some six miles or so to the rear of the rebel forces after we should have drawn some rations. Both assurances, however, proved fallacious, no rations being received during the whole day, nor did we move at all, but passed another long, weary night on the ground, our future already growing darker in view of the brutality of our captors. At dawn we were ordered to prepare at once for a march south to Louden, a distance of twelve miles, and that no "rations could be obtained until our arrival there, none being available where we were. The prospect was not an encouraging one for half-famished men, who had already been worn down by long marches and severe fighting, and from many of whom their shoes had been plundered, and OB, JOSIB, THE HEROINE OF FLOEENCE. 31 who had to travel in bare feet over rough roads, and who were in no condition to march at all. Many of the men broke down before Louden was reached, and must have been left, perhaps to perish, had it not been for the loving aid of comrades who supported them and bore them along, and already I began to revolve plans of escape from a captivity which was certain to be a slow torture, if not a speedy death, but the guard were all vigilant, experienced soldiers, and they allowed no opportunity to present itself of which I could then avail myself. We finally reached Louden about five o'clock in the afternoon, and were marched up to a large pile of corn which we on our retreat had set on fire, but which had been only partially consumed, and were ordered to draw our rations from this. A few ears of corn made a small ration for men who for four days had hardly eaten a morsel, but there was no resource, and the hungry men consumed half roasted corn with a gasto which told of the sufferings already endured from hunger, and car- ried away all each man could transport. For the night we were locked up in an old warehouse opposite the City Mills, and a strong guard was placed round the building. We were told that early in the morning we should be started for Dalton, and after mutual inter- change of views concerning the hard usage to which we had already been subjected, and the expression of a general fear that our sufierings had only begun, we fell asleep, thinking wearily of loved Northern homes and bitterly of the fortune which had cast us into the hands of Southern barbarians. Early on the morning of November 20th, we left Louden for Dalton by rail, and arrived there at even- 39 souTHEE]^ prisons; ing, after a weary ride in cars resembling those in which cattle are shipped over second class railways in the South. All night we were confined in an old court honse some distance from the city, untenanted because for some reason the impression had prevailed among the citizens that the court house was haunted, some deed of violence having, (it was said,) been committed there years before. It seemed a lonely enough spot to make the story likely, and the building was steadily falling into ruins. No spirit, however, annoyed us save one that infected a man who was subject to attacks from the devil in the shape of fits, and who created a midnight panic by attacking me like a tiger, compelling me to raise the company in self-protection. At four o'clock in the morning of November twenty - first we were aroused by the commanding officer, and ordered to draw our rations. They consisted of a pint of flour to each man, which we baked in small bake ov- ens used by the slaves for baking their corn dodgers in. Again we were huddled closely together in the misera- ble cars, where the air was almost sufi'ocating, and start- ed south towards Atlanta. In a few hours my compan- ions who had eaten the bread made from the wheat furnished them were taken violently ill, and at first all thought they had been poisoned. It turned out, how- ever, that the wheat from M^hich the flour was made, was decayed, and unfit utterly for food, therefore, with true Southern manliness it had been furnished to help- less prisoners. I had the good fortune to abstain from partaking of my loaf, and exchanged it for a corn cake with a member of the guard, by which I fancy I was the gainer. OE, JOSIE, THE HEKOIlsrE OF FLOEEITOE. 83 On tlie journey to Atlanta we were very closely guarded, but tliere were many occasions during tlie night when we might have jumped from the cars through the windows. None of us then risked it, but it was a golden opportunity thrown away, as it is always com- paratively easily for captives to escape while in transit^ and exceedingly difficult when once within the walls of a military prison. dA UOUTHEEN PRISONS. CHAPTER III. ARRIVAL AT ATLANTA. The Prison and its Occupants. — I find Friends indeed. — Plan of Escape Frustrated. — Preparations for Moving to Belle Isle. Friendship has a power To soothe affliction in her darkest hour. n. K. White. On the evening of November twenty-second, we readied Atlanta, a city of wliicli we had then heard much, and which subsequently became most famous in the war. It is a pretty town, as we afterwards found out, though on the night we arrived, there was not much opportunity for observation, as we were taken at once to a prison which was called by its occupants "Deserters' Home," and which was the only name I ever heard applied to it, being probably so called because it had been chietly used for the confinement of deserters. Indeed, it was now divided into two wards by a parti- tion running through the center, one apartment being filled with Confederate convicts and deserters, and the other with Union prisoners. I cannot say that I found Deserters' Home an unen- durable place of captivity, though some of its arrange- ments were unfit for the accommodation of human beings. The commander, Captain Ceorge Walker, though heartily enlisted in the Confederate cause, was still kind and courteous to the prisoners, and in many OE, JOSIE, THE HEKOITfE OF FLORENCE. 35 wa,ys mitigated their sufferings, bnt the sleeping apart- ment was crowded to excess with filthy men and infested with vermin, and the food was both totally insufficient in quantity and of the coarsest quality. During my imprisonment at xltlanta, which was but for a few days, my attention was attracted by the pleas- ing countenance of a young fellow, also a prisoner, who gave me his namg as Frank Holmes, and said that he belonged to an Indiana regiment. Only two days, however, had passed when it was discovered by the rebel surgeon in charge of the prison that my new acquaintance was a pretty girl disguised in a Union uni- form, and who, upon being detected, admitted her sex, and stated that in her disguise she had been through many great battles, and had already served two years in the army. The surgeon told her she must leave the prison at once, and said that he would place her under the care of a lady friend of his until he could take mea- sures to restore her to her home. Frank and I had become very good friends during the brief term of our •acquaintance, and our parting was more like that of two lovers than a gentleman and lady but lately strangers. She assured me that she would do every- thing in her power to release me from captivity when iree to act outside, and that, if possible, she would see me on the morrow. It may well be believed that this incident, happening so suddenly and attended with such singular circumstances, engrossed all my thoughts till a late hour of the night, and when towards morning I fell asleep, it was to dream of my new friend, her short but dark, clustering curls, and winning face. In the afternoon of the next day I was gratified by a call from my fair friend, then tastefully dressed in the habili- 36 SOUTHEKN PEISONS; ments of her sex, and accompanied by another yonng lady whom she introduced to me as Miss Josie Seymour. They brought me a basketful of delicacies, and pro- mised to procure me some clothing. Miss Seymour was at heart a Union girl, whose father lived in South Carolina, about twelve miles from Florence, and was very wealthy, and, as Captain Walker told me, a bitter and prominent secessionist. I was compelled to part from both ladies rather formally, as Captain Walker was near during our interview, and returned to my quarters, but with the assurance from both that they would leave no means untried to effect my escape. With my basket of delicacies I returned to my prison, and for the first time in a month ate a hearty meal, for the first time in very many months enjoyed the luxuries of the table. After satisfying my appetite and reserving something for my breakfast, I divided the remainder of my present among my comrades, who were watching me with' hungry eyes, and who no doubt had suffered as deeply as had I. All that day and night I thought of the pos- sibilities of an escape, in which I believed, could it once be effected, that Miss Seymour and my newly-found lady friend would be my companions. I inferred, and correctly too, that Miss Seymour and her father had become somewhat alienated by their difference in views regarding political questions, and that her visit to Atlanta was the consequence, and that unless she left there for the North the separation was likely to be a prolonged one. Many plans of escape were evolved by me, but it was clear that I must have co-operation from outside, and that I must await the action of mj fair friends, for whose next visit I anxiously waited. The next day, November twenty-sixth, was Thanks- OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIISrE OF FLORElSrCE. 37 giving Day, and, even in out deplorable condition, many of us were tliankful it was no worse. Tliere was no public ceremony of tlianksgiving, as we had not our chaplain with us, and the rebels were even leas likely to furnish a prisoner a religious adviser than abundant and wholesome food There was, too, no danger of the latter half of the day being observed as it is in New England and through the North so generally in con- suming game, poultry, mince pies and plum puddings, the more especially as on that morning we were put on half rations, probably with a view, on the part of the commanding officer, to create within us a spirit of reli- gion by severe fasting. It was some consolation to us, however, to reflect that the establishment of a day of thanksgiving to the rebels was a grim satire on their situation, for what they had to be thankful for they only could discover. Among the more reasonable and thinking men it must have been passed as a day of fast- ing and prayer to God that he would deliver them out of their present strait. The day among us called to mind many happy thanksgivings passed at our Northern homes, and all drearily wondered whether those days ■ might ever again return, or whether, like too many of our brave boys, we should ere long sleep beneath Southern sod, and only be remembered at the North as one of that vast army whose resting places were among the unknown graves in an enemy's land. Captain James T. Morgan, of Company B, Seven- teenth Regiment, complained to the commander of the prison concerning our insufficient rations, but all to no purpose. He was as obdurate as a granite rock, and we fast became accustomed to the sensations of positive hunger. The continual gnawing at the stomach became 38 SOUTHEKN PRiso]>rs ; chronic and comparatively little regarded by us, but was surely having its effect and undermining the consti- tution of every man subjected to this cruel treatment. Evidently, the rebels hoped to bring the Northern people and Government to terms by the sufferings of their captured sons, but too resolute men were at the head of affairs, and they failed as signally in this as in their rebellion. The effect of the treatment was, how- ever, soon seen in the numerous deaths among the pris- oners. They fell off in our own prison and in the hos- pitals daily, and the mortality soon became excessive. The same was, no doubt, trae not only of those sta- tioned at Atlanta, but in the prisons throughout the whole South. One afternoon I sought the main gate, hoping for another interview with Miss Seymour and my friend, and I fear my allegiance had, in the short space of one day, been transferred to the former. She was a beauti- ful girl, well educated and refined, and possessed those charms in a woman, a gentle heart, and a low, sweet voice. Is it strange that, with her Union sentiment, she had already made a deep impression on me ? After no •little delay I was notified of the arrival of the young ladies, and I obtained, through the influence of Captain Walker, permission to go outside the gate and speak with them in the army tent wHch stood just outside of the prison, and in which they were sitting, but I was accom- panied by a guard, who kindly informed me that he had orders to blow out my brains if I attempted to escape. I assured him I had no such intention, and he had the decency to stand outside the tent and at its entrance, while I enjoyed the interview with the ladies inside. Our meeting was rather that of old and dear friends OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREISTCE. 39 than of recent acquaintances, and before the interview closed I fancied Miss Seymour might possibly be at least somewhat interested in the unfortunate captive, as I was obliged to confess in my own heart I was deeply in her. The fair girl and myself had a long and inti- mate conversation, in the course of which I proposed to her that she should fly witli me if I succeeded in making good my escape, and I would conduct her safely to the Northern lines, or die in the attempt. She frankly confessed that she had hoped for an offer of a similar kind, and that if I approved of it, she would gladly accompany me and share the hardships and danger of such an undertaking without a murmur. I assured her I did heartily approve, and we both expressed the hope that ere long we might congratulate ourselves on being no longer among the hated rebels. While Miss Sey- mour and I were conversing and arranging our plans for an escape, Frank engaged the attention of the guard outside, who was only too glad to get an opportunity to while away a half hour with so pretty a girl, and omitted all attention to me, save a lookout that I did not get away. Our plans having been agreed upon, and the next day selected as the time w^hen the attempt should be made, we separated, Miss Seymour and I having only an opportunity to clasp hands, but with that clasp went my heart, and I hoped was returned some part of hers. To many it may seem curious that I, a prisoner and hated Yankee, should have been so favorably treated in reference to obtaining interviews with my two fair friends, but a little explanation will make the matter entirely clear. I ascertained most of the facts from Miss Seymour herself. 40 SOUTHEEN PRISONS ; It seems that some years before the Rebellion broke out Captain Walker was a resident of South Carolina, and on quite intimate terms with the father of Miss Sey- mour. His father was an ultra State rights man, and quite wealthy. As a consequence, when the war broke out, he became at once a person of marked influence, and was enabled to procure for his son at once a com- mission in the army. After serving for about thirteen months in a Lieutenant' s position he was promoted to a Captaincy, and was sent from Richmond to Atlanta to take command of the prison there. From the time he entered the army up to this period he had not seen Miss Seymour, to whom he had become devotedly attached in South Carolina, though he had addressed several let- ters to her, which, however, were not answered. One evening in Atlanta, happening to call upon a lady friend, he by accident met Miss Seymour there, and renewed the acquaintance previously formed The Captain asked if he might be allowed to call upon her at her residence, and so modest a request was readily granted. He paid her several visits, and when Frank was removed from the prison, Captain Walker sent her to Miss Seymour, under whose charge she was placed. Learning that the ofiicer was about to call, and surmis- ing, with that intuition which all women possess in such matters, that he was interested in Miss Seymour, Frank asked her, if possible, to procure for her an inter- view with a friend she had left in the prison, and whom she wished to see again. She asked the favor of CajDtain Walker, who readily granted it, though he told her that it was against the rules of the prison, and thus oui' inter- view was obtained. The afternoon of that day, early in December, but OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 41 the exact date I cannot determine now, I passed in a state of intense excitement, though it was carefully re- pressed, and no indications of its presence were suffered to betray me. I had made all my plans for the escape, and knew that if once at a little distance from the walls of the hated prison, my chances of ultimate escape were good, as Miss Seymour had abundance of money, and once in the woods, that would carry us safely through, with the assistance of the negroes, who always be- friended the escaping loyalist. That evening, however, all my hopes were dashed rudely to the ground by the receipt of a sudden order (no cause for it being assigned) to " pack up," though exactly what we were to pack it was not easy to see, as our clothing was confined to the tattered habiliments we wore, and we had never had rations more than sufficient to appease hunger for the moment. It seemed, indeed, as though the rebel officer was perpetrating a grim joke on our forlorn condition. Yet all our men, who were Yankees in the more re- stricted sense of the term, carried away from Atlanta some personal property, as souvenirs of home and keep- sakes from dear friends, which had eluded the vigilance of the rebel searchers. Most of us, too, bore away with us some relics of the place in which we had been impris- oned, not, it is true, for any great length of time, but still long enough to implant in the heart of every man bitter recollections of it. Indeed, this fondness for relics seemed to be a passion among the Northern sol- diers. They extracted them from all places, even those seeming incapable of affording anything of the slightest interest, and carried them constantly and into all con ■ ceivable places. Attention to these matters and other 42 SOTTTHBEN PRISONS; necessary preparations naturally consumed much time, and it was quite late before our work was completed. To say that I was bitterly disappointed at the order to move away, and the frustation of escape when it seemed within my grasp, and the journey to the Iforth would be comparatively easy, is but feebly to express the bitterness of sorrow which I endured that evening. I certainly should have made a desperate effort for my liberty were it not for the fact that in that event I could not safely communicate with Miss Seymour and cany her with me, as on this occasion my absence would soon be discovered, pursuit would be speedy, and my flight must have been instantaneous, and pursued with an energy and celerity such as no woman could possibly be equal to. Miss Seymour had behaved towards me like an angel, and every sentiment of honor forbade my leaving her in Atlanta and fleeing North myself, so I determined to remain in my present situation, and trust to the chances of escaping in future, when I would retrace my steps to Atlanta, and endeavor to secure my benefactress's escape to my home with me. The work of preparing rations for our journey was one which demanded our serious atten;ion, and occu- pied no little time and care. From our corn-meal we had to bake enough biscuits or cakes, for a trip which promised to be a long one, and these were baked on skillets, one skillet serving for twenty men. As soon as marching orders were received, it may naturally be supposed there was a general rush for the skillets ; it was every man for himself and the d — 1 take the hinder- most. Those who failed to be first in getting hold of them, frantically endeavored to secure the second place by inducing number one to promise to turn over the OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 43 skillet to tlie applicant on finishing his baking oper- ations. All, however, in turn obtained them, and at a late hour succeeded in getting their rations prepared. A few slight differences occurred as to who had the best title to a particular skillet, which occasionally resulted in somebody' s getting knocked down. The night was a long and dreary one to me, reflect- ing upon the hard fate which was so soon to bear me eastward, far from newly found and dear friends, and I especially pictured to myself the bitter disappointment which I was sure Miss Seymour would experience when, the next morning, she paid her promised visit to the prison and found me gone. I bitterly cursed the fatal order which had produced this double disappointment to my friends and myself ; but I saw no path of honor- able or desirable escape from the difficulties by which I was environed, and with a sore and anxious heart I was forced to commit myself and the young girl who had already gained so strong a hold upon my affections to the future, and the God who directs it. 44 SOUTHERN PRISONS CHAPTER lY. DEPARTURE FOR RICHMOND. The Rebel Capitol— The Belle Isle Prison— Horrible Sufferings of the Prisoners. Cursed Fate ! Malicious Stars ! you now have drained Yourselves of all your poisonous influence; Ev'n the last baleful drop is shed upon me ! Lee's MethricUiies. At the hour of live o'clock in the morning of Dec. 6th, we were marched to the depot and hnddled in cattle cars and started east, it being announced that onr destina- tion was Richmond, a fact not calculated materially to improve our prospect or lighten our hearts, the accounts of the cruelties practiced at that city and in its vicinity having already been wafted to the west and sending a chill through the heart of every union prisoner. After a comparatively rapid journey through a rather dreary country, lonely and inhabited almost entirely by slaves, the whites being generally withdrawn into the army, yet showing many belts of excellent land, on the morning of Nov. 25th we reached Richmond, almost worn out by the long ride, the utterly insufficient quantity of food and the cold, which had been excessive and from which in the open cars M^e were almost entirely unprotected. Most of the men, too, were without shoes, bare-headed and with hardly sufficient clothing to cover them. OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORENCE. 46 The streets of Richmond we found crowded with sol- diers and citizens, whose faces betokened uneasiness concerning the struggle in which they were engaged, and particularly because of the disasters which had just fol- lowed in East Tennessee, where Grant had driven Bragg off Mission Ridge and back into Georgia with great loss, and Longstreet was retreating with the utmost precipita- tion towards either Georgia or Virginia. Indeed, it was evident that their whole efforts throughout the West had proved a gigantic failure, and that things were rapidly approaching a desperate condition there. As we marched under an escort up the main street, we were greeted by a variety of shouts and remarks which were generally not at all complimentary to the prisoners; as "How are you, Yanks?" ''What did you all come down here to fight we'uns for ? " " O you mudsills, you miserable Northern vagabonds, you Lin- coln hirelings, etc." A lady rebel remarked, " If these are Old Abe's puppies, what must he be ? O it is a pity that our noble sons should be killed fighting such scoun- drels and loafers as these." After a walk of about two blocks, we were halted in front of Libby Prison, a large three story brick building, and here the officer in charge of us received orders to take us at once to Belle Isle, no stop having to be made at Libby. We were according- ly removed thither and turned over to Lieutenant Bos- sieux, of Virginia, the com,mander of the prison. We again went through the process of being searched, and every article heretofore left us was taken away, except a few things which Yankee ingenuity contrived to keep from the prying eyes of the searchers, sometimes by a man not searched passing them to a fellow prisoner who had already been examined. Myself, I contrived to 46 • SOUTHEKN PRISONS ; save a large amount of money which I possessed when captured by many ingenious expedients. Among them were the concealment of greenbacks in my shoes, which I then slit up so as to make them useless to the Rebels, by sewing up bills in my clothing and other contrivan- ces of similar character which effectually eluded the vigilance of the Rebel searchers. At the conclusion of this disagreeable robbery we were all divided into squads of 100 each, and each squad into five messes of 20 men. One man in each mess was detailed to act as purveyor of the mess to take charge of and distribute the rations when they should he receimd. I was soon notified that I would be in "Mess No. 4," and ordered to make my ap- pearance promptly at the time of drawing rations, that I might get them without delay. We were then marched into the Fort where our prisoners were confined, and were greeted with vociferous cries and calls of all conceivable kinds, many insulting, though from Union soldiers, and all denoting clearly that our stay at Belle Isle would be a scene of unmitigated misery, among them one partic- ularly striking me, ' ' Thirty days to live if not sooner killed," evidently referring to the brutal practice of the Rebel sentries of shooting prisoners on the slightest pre- text. This was, however, a sort of initiation, and cus- tomary on all such occasions, and the more equanimity displayed by the new prisoners the better for them. Soon, however, many of us found friends or acquain- tances among the captives from numerous regiments, and temporary shelter being attained, the night was mainly spent in asking questions concerning our homes and the army and the chances of our ultimate success. We also wondered with deep anxiety whether we should experience a severe winter or not, there being no fewer OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 47 than 10,000 Union prisoners on the Island, with no ade- quate accommodations, and with hardly clothing enough to cover their nakedness. The Island was not fit for the accommodation of more than 1,800 men at a liberal es- timate, and the huddling of so many into so confined a space naturally and necessarily produced misery, dis- ease and death. From the account which follows it will Ibe seen that our suflTerings soon "became almost in- credible, certainly such as were never seen in the United States on any other occasion, save perhaps in some other of the horrible prison pens of the South. Within a couple of days we saw several rebel offi- cers, and the gloom caused by Bragg' s overwhelming defeat at Mission Ridge was plainly to be seen in their faces, though they strove to keep it from us and to seem in their usual spirits. We had, however, been able to gather enough from various sources to be pretty well informed of the great disaster which they had sufiered, and the exultation of even the unfortunate prisoners could easily be discerned, which only added to the mor- tification of the rebel officers. It certainly seems as though the disruption of the Confederacy was near, and the prisoners cherished hopes again that ere long they might be released by the victorious Union forces, even though they could not succeed in efiiecting their escape. Cold and hunger soon began to tell fearfully upon the men confined on Belle Isle, particularly upon those who were new in the army and who were comparatively unaccustomed to hardship. Sickness began to be fre- quent and fatal. It appeared almost invariably in the form of pneumonia, catarrh, diarrhoea or dysentery ; but in whatever shape it came it was caused by the same starvation and cold. The same causes naturally 48 SOTTTHBRN PRISONS ; manifested themselves in different ways, according to the different constitutions of the men whom it attacked. The medicines furnished by the surgeons were, too, of little or no avail, as the sufferers, in their weakened condition, had no natural strength to resist disease, and strong medicines only served to overcome their shat- tered constitutions and render them still more easy preys to the attacks of disease. Soon they began to die like sheep struck with the rot, and they were car- ried out continually by day and by night, almost a ceaseless stream, and flung into shallow graves hastily dug, and in most cases passed out of the knowledge of all in this world, no pains being taken to mark their resting places, and in future they being known only as unknown Union dead. Soon the greater portion of the prisoners were at- tacked with fearful colds caused by exposure, and the terrible coughing of so many men grew horrible. It seemed as though all the prisoners were rapidly cough- ing their lives away, and it became almost impossible to sleep. The spirits of the men were almost completely broken down. There was no longer any sport, no ath- letic games, no laughter. The silence was almost uni- versal and most oppressive, and the only visions seen were men with bent forms, hollow faces, sunken eyes, limbs and arms like those of skeletons, livid lips, and heartbroken expressions in their countenances. As the prisoners became familiar with misery, they grew dead- ened in mind and ceased to notice the awful appearance of their comrades. It was only a horror to persons who occasionally visited the prison and were shocked not- withstanding the fact that they were generally bitter enemies. I5^^m;>*'>»'^#i ' ii ill w l,'J liij'' 'ilHI OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF Ft.ORENCE. 49 The cases of Southern Unionists were harder even than our own. They knew that their families at home were at any time liable to pillage and outrage at the. hands of wandering ruffians and guerilla cavalry — of which the South was then full. Anxiety^ and perhaps, increased brutality on the part of our guards, who hated a Southern Unionist worse than any one else, swiftly carried these men to their graves, and having less capacity for resistance to disease than the Nor- theners, who at least were comparatively easy concern- ing their families and friends, they died in the propor- tion of four or five to one of us, and they were huddled into trenches and given most ignominious burial. Still others during this long period of misery and hope deferred received such news from the North as filled to overflowing their cup of sorrow and made it in- deed run over. Dear ones, who had long waited sor- rowfully and wearily for the return of those who never came, and from whom, alas ! they often never heard, and overburdened with the care and weariness of living, laid down their lives, thinking possibly to meet in heaven the loved ones whom they could never expect to see again. And yet in some cases of this character the soldier returned to his home just in time to hear of a wife but lately dead, or a family irretrievably broken up and scattered to the winds without any head. One young fellow, who had partly lost his mind from Bufiering, and who had not very long to live, mistook me for an intimate friend, and one day mysteriously called me to his side. He whispered: "I have not much longer to stay here with you, my friend, and it is best so for my sake. My father and mother both died when I was but a child, and life to me has been one 7 60 SOUTHERN PEISONS ; long day of sorrow and disappointment. I welcome my release, and know that at the great tribunal I shall meet them and shall be awarded that justice and mercy which I have never met here. Should you, however, live to escape to the North, go to my friends and tell them I died true to my country and happy. I forgive even the Rebels their cruel treatment of me, but as they deal with the prisoners here so will God deal with them." The feeble soldier had said these words with a convulsive energy that was the last effort of a dying man. As he ended, a shiver seemed to seize him, he fell heavily forward, and died almost without a strug- gle — leaving me horror-struck at his fate. I murmured a prayer that the great God would forgive his errors, if any he had, and receive him into his bosom, where he might meet again those near and dear to him. And I could not help thinking that he was at that moment in- finitely happier than I. He was carried out and buried, and no friend knows his resting place, as, though I at- tempted to meet the friends of whom he spoke, I never succeeded in discovering their whereabouts, they hav- ing removed from the place he directed me to, and no one in that vicinity being able to give any information as to what section of the country they had journeyed. No doubt, some of them, in the Far West, often speak of the boy who enlisted in the army, and who, they dream, perished nobly on the battle-field. Far happier would his fate have been had it been so. As the winter came in, so the severity of the weather increased, and cold rains, freezing as they fell, assailed the unprotected prisoners. But Uttle reckoned the reb- els of stonn. TVHiat most of our captors desu'ed was to reduce us to the most abject condition of misery possi- OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 51 ble in order by our horrible sufferings, tlie tale of whicli they would have circulated at the North, to awaken compassion for us, and so either stop the further pro- gress of the war or compel an exchange of prisoners, when they would secure the well-fed, hearty, strong Rebs in Northern prisons, and whom they could at once put into the army, for a lot of miserable skeletons who could not fight for many months, even if they should ever recover, which it was certain many never could do by any possibility. In one way the coming of the win- ter, ^\i.th its snow and ice, was a relief ; it gave us the means at hand of quenching thirst with snow or water comparatively pure, and of stilling the fever pain by ap- plying these cooling remedies to the brow and neck, but in all other respects it augmented our sufferings horri- bly. We were no longer even warm. Chronic rheuma- tism fastened its deadljr hold upon most of the men, and but few of them whom it attacked have ever been able to shake it off, though they were fortunate enough to live through this period of misery and suffering, and the continued cold shrank and shrivelled the men up tin they all looked like aged men, with no strength and with hardly the sense of life. In Harper's Weekly of Dec. 5th, 1863, is an account of the sufferings of the Union prisoners at Belle Isle and other prisons which fully substantiates our statements, and which we accordingly quote : " While the rebel prisoners in our hands are supplied with food in such abundance that they cannot consume it all, with clothmg, and even regular rations of tobac- co, our brave soldiers, to the number of fifteen to eigh- teen thousand, are shivering and starving to death on BeUe Island; The first intimation we had of their suf- 52 SOUTHEEN PEISOT^S; ferings was on the receipt of a boat-load of sick and wounded at City Point on tlie 29tli of September. Of tlieir appearance an eye-witness spoke as follows : " The men landed at five a. m. in the chilly dawn, and it seemed a fitting time for so monrnful a proces- sion. They numbered 180 men, brought from Belle Island, near Eichmond. Many were unable to walk, and were carried to the hospital. Tliose that could walk must have presented a sight never to be forgotten ; for, before leaving, the rebels not only stripped them of socks, shoes, and blankets, but took from them their shirts and pantaloons, except where the rags could scarce hold together. Men came without hats or caps, with thin cotton drawers, and bodies bare to the waist, their nakedness and bleeding feet covered only by what tatters theii' cruel captors had left them, not from mer- cy, but because they were too filthy to keep. These men had been on Belle Island (which seems to be a bar- ren waste), without any protection against the weather, except what they had themselves constructed. They had lain on the sand, which was to them both bed and covering, exposed, both sick and well, to all extremes of heat and cold, without clothes, without food (except small portions of the most repulsive kinds), for weeks and months — many having been taken .prisoners at or before the battle of Gettysburg. Many were suffering from what are called sand sores, and the surgeons in vain attempted to produce general circulation of the blood, the cuticle in many instances seemingly dried on the bone from exposure.'' ' ' De Witt C.Walters, an Indiana scout, equal to Leath- erstockiQg, captured just before Chicamauga, and paroled with three hundi-ed and fifty other Union prison- OE, JOSIE, THE HEROnSTE OF FLOEENCE. 53 ers, arrived at Washington last week and stated, among other things of absorbing interest, that the aver- age number of deaths among our men in Richmond hospitals is forty-three a day, and that most of them get their death-warrants on Belle Island. That sandy desert is low, damp, swept "with winds, and wrapped in fogs. Our men are without blankets, and but one-third of them sheltered under mould-eaten tents. All the starved sicken instantly, and run down with frightful rapidity. Four dogs, enticed to the Island during the twenty days Walters was confined there, were greedily cooked and joyfully ate. In the hospital to which he was transferred, the sole diet was corn bread, made up without salt." 64 BOUTHEEN PRISOITS ; CHAPTER V. REBEL BAEBARITIES. Brutal Treatment of the Wounded Prisoners. — Modes of Torture Adopted. — The Wooden Horse. — Rumors of Exchange. — The Quantity of Rations Issued. — New Year's Day on the Island. — The Hospital and the Dead. — The State of the South. Bring forth the rack ! Fetch hither cords, and knives, and sulphurous flames ! He shall be bound, and gashed, and burnt alive ; He shall be hours, days, years, a-dying. Lee! a (Edipua. Another most harrowing circumstance which I no- ticed in the prison at Belle Isle was the dreadful condi- tion of the wounded. Many were confined there who had been wounded in the heavy battles which had taken place during the summer and fall of 1863, and as yet no attention whatever, save some occasional rude medi- cal attendance, was paid to these men by the rebels, nor had been since they were placed upon the Island. The consequence was that their wounds were in a fearful condition ; the flesh had sloughed oflP, frequently morti- fication set in, and the sufierer died within a few days. Indeed, it seemed as though the rebels were growing utterly reckless and desperate. They appeared no long- er to care to maintain an equal number of prisoners with the North, so that if any exchange should be offered they could obtain back their own men ; but, with the OE, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF ELOEENCE. 55 malignity of fiends — no doubt resulting from desperate hatred to that North which they saw was slowly but surely crushing them into the dust — they resolved that every Union soldier who fell into their hands should sufier the pangs and agonies of hell, and if they could not triumph, they would at least inflict upon their con- querors every misery which the ingenuity of human devils could suggest. Indeed, as the war approached its termination, the condition of the prisoners gradually but rapidly, grew worse, and the abuses and cruelties inflicted upon them grew more barbarous, and at last, when the Union army was closing in on Eichmond, and Sherman sweeping up through the Carolinas to attack it on the south, and the alarmed rebels were hurrying hither and thither, neither food, medical attendance, oi aught else was furnished to those unfortunate prisoners who had not escaped, which very many had by that time done, and while the guards stood over them and watched them according to the last orders they ever re- ceived, quitting their posts only when they learned of the surrender of Lee and the utter destruction of the rebel armies. The prisoners meanwhile died off" in thous- ands, were left unburied, and the prison-pens became in sober fact and reality vast cemeteries — so that when visited by the victorious Union soldiers they presented such appailmg spectacles as completely unnerved the hardiest men, who had gone through a hundred battles unmoved, but upon whom the efi'ect of the sights at Belle Isle, Andersonville, and Florence has left its im- pression forever. About the first of December it was rumored through- out the prison that a flag of truce boat had been seen landing at City Point which was to make arrangements tf6 sotrTHEKN prisons; for a general exchange of prisoners, and as men are prone to believe what they hope for strongly, we thought it very probable that a period would shortly be pnt to our sufferings. December 17th, 1863, we had the nnnsnal good for- tune to obtain a copy of the Richmond Bulletin from one of the guards, and it appeared that Gen. Meade and Oen. Lee were confronting each other on the Eapidan, and seemed to be preparing for a decisive struggle on Mine Run. The rebel authorities seemed to be greatly alarmed, so far as we could judge from their actions, as reported in the columns of the newsj)aper, and it cer- tainly seemed as though, if Meade could beat Lee, he might force his passage to Lynchburg and cut the capi- tal off from all communication from the section which supplied a great part of the supplies for both Richmond and the army of Vu'ginia. December 18th I obtained from one of the guards, to whom I gave for it a dollar in Confederate money, a second paper, in which it was stated that an indecisive battle had been fought on Mine Run, and that Meade seemed to be retiring. He seemed to us never to accom- plish any decisive results, but to be afraid of Lee and never to fight him a pitched battle unless forced into it, as he was at Gettysburg. More rumors were afloat con- cerning the probability of an exchange, and exchange stock yet ruled high. On December 20th the weather was a little milder, and ' most of the men got out of doors for a little fresh air. They seemed to show more life than usual, though I could not help thinking it was due mainly to the hope that an exchange would soon result. On that day a Bmall quantity of government clothing was being issued OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 67 by J. M. Sanderson, of the Union army, who was sent from the North with the articles, and who was admitted to the prison for this j)iirpose by the rebel authorities. Indeed, I did not think the rebels were at all nnwilling that every few weeks a Northern officer should see the prisoners, that on his return home he might report their fearful condition, and by creating a burst of indignation at the North, the people might compel the authorities to make a general exchange-of prisoners, and the South thus get thek own again. As a general rule the men were in a fearful state of destitution in respect of cloth- ing. Most had nothing on save an apology for a pair of pants and a shirt. As soon as the distribution com- menced, they rushed upon the clothing and the officer making the issue, and plundered such articles as they could lay their hands on. There was no way of restrain- ing them save by the employment of an armed force. Of myself, during all this scene of misery, I have said little, and it may now not be inappropriate to make a brief statement concerning my own health. Being naturally of a strong constitution, and not having suf- fered from wounds, I was far better able to bear up against the hardships of prison life than were many of our boys. In time, however, the effects of the suffer- ings on Belle Isle began to tell even upon me, and at this time, about the last of December, I could distinctly understand that I was breaking down under the con- tinual pressure of want, cold, and anxiety. I had thought much of escape, but as yet no opportunity of wliich I could avaU myself with any reasonable prospect of success had occurred. My situation at this time was therefore particularl}-^ gloomy, apprehending illness of a serious character, seeing no immediate prospect of liber- 1 t)8 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; ation from captivity, and at times being driven almost to madness by not hearing a word of Miss Seymour, and seeing no opportunity of ever again meeting her. Yet in my calmer moments my deteimination to escape, if liealtli and life were left me, continued in unabated strength, as also my resolution to regain Atlanta, even at the hazard of my life, and if my darling were still there, to endeavor to fly with her to the North. By the close of December our hitherto insufficient rations were still further reduced, and the following was the allowance fixed upon : Corn Bread — Half pound per day. Beans, boiled — Three gills per day. Corned Beef — One-eiglitli pound nominally per day — half the time none at all. Sweet Potatoes — Very rarely a small one to each. Provisions could be purchased of the guards or sut- lers on the Island at the foUowiag rates lq Confederate money : Wheat bread, four ounce loaves .$ 2 00 Onions, per bushel 45 00 Potatoes, per bushel ., 65 00 Lard, per pound 10 00 Sugar, per pound 8 00 Butter, per pound „ 14 00 Tea, per pound 18 00 Coffee, per pound 22 00 Eggs, per dozen 8 00 Crackers, per pound 4 00 Ham,perpound 5 00 Pork, per pound, fresh 4 00 Pork, per pound, salted 4 75 Molasses, per pint 7 00 OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 69 One of tlie greatest brutalities practiced by tlie rebels, and one wMcli was almost as fatal to the prisoners as the sickness which raged in the camp, was their mode of punishing anything which the guards chose to con- sider an offence. Thus, stealing a loaf of bread for one's self, when drawing rations for the squad, fetching in without penuission a stick of wood, taking a cup of soup, or calling the rebel guard names, would involve the riding of a wooden horse, for two or three hours, the being tied up to a post for half a day, the carrying about a large stick of wood upon the shoulders for sev- eral hours, or some other degrading or painful punish- ment, just as the rebels saw lit. Sometimes they would tie a prisoner' s hands behind him, and stand him upon a flour barrel for half a day, and sometimes tie him up by the thumbs. The top of tliis wooden horse was nothing but a strip of inch pine lumber, with a thin edge, so as to be almost enough to cut in two any man simply resting upon it, whereas weights were tied to his feet and hands to weigh him do\\Ti upon the horse. In this condition he was left to suffer pain almost unimagi- nable. Sometimes he fainted away and fell off ; in that case he was set up again, and if so weak and faint that he fell off again, he was beaten most brutally. The prisoners, however, occasionally obtained the advantage over their persecutors. For instance, a man was ordered to carry a large log of wood upon his shoulder, marching backward and forward with the sen- tinel on guard. He had not, however, been tramping up and down more than two or three minutes when the sentinel was relieved and a new one substituted in his place. Sentinel number two, seeing the Yankee, asked him what he was doing with the wood on his back. He 60 SOUTHEEN PKISOKS ; answered, " I am waiting for tlie sergeant to come and let me in," (the sentinel's beat being on the ground out- side the gates.) "Who let. you out ?" demanded the guard. " The sergeant let me out to draw wood for my squad." "All right, come here, and I'll let you in," and the prisoner went his way rejoicing ; but, reflecting that if his trick were discovered, the infuriated rebels would be as likely to shoot him as not. Serious thoughts, however, did not usually trouble a soldier long when he had played upon some one what he con- sidered a sharp trick. He generally lived for the present and thought little of the future, save when reduced to desperate extremities, as when suffering the horrors of Southern prisons, or uniting all his energies, physical and mental, on an escape to the North. In this partic- ular instance, however, the fault was attributed to the guard. The captain in charge that day soon went his rounds, and to his surprise, found no Yankee walking his round with the sentinel, with the log on his back. The trick was soon discovered, the guard abused in terms of excessive profanity for about ten minutes, and the captain did not bother himself more about the matter, but the guard carried a face of unusual length during his term, occasionally cursing aU Yankees. By the end of December the hope of an exchange had almost died out, the rumors of such action on the part of our government being sustained by no steps. The feelings of the men were those of bitter disappoint- ment, and it seemed that our lives at Belle Isle were but a constant succession of hopes deferred. At the time last mentioned, there was intense excitement throughout Richmond, caused by a report that Oen. Lee had been defeated, and was falling back on the for- OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIIfE OF FLOEENCE. 61 tifications around the city. Several regiments were pushed out in the direction in which he was thought to be coming, and it seemed that there must be some foun- dation for the report. To call the foul pens, in which the sick on the Island were coniined, "hospitals" was surely a perversion of the English tongue. We could obtain neither brooms to clean them out with, nor water to keep them and the patients clean with. It was not even possible to procure enough straw to make their pallets comforta- ble. Most of the time they lay huddled together upon the cold, damp floors, half naked, and without even that cleanliness and warmth afforded to brutes. It was a weary sight to see these sufferers, expecting death day by day, exposed to almost intolerable mis- eries, yet hardly ever complaining. The only sight more sad was that of the dead, piled upon each otlier in the dead-carts, their arms swaying about, the white faces starmg stark and straight at one, the jaws dropped and open, stony eyes, while they were jolted along, without even the show of any respect, to the trench into which they were hurled. The credulity of our government concerning the relief of the suffering prisoners often passed belief. Tons of boxes for them were continually being sent by fiiends in the North, which the rebel authorities received, and instead of forwarding them to theii* proper destinations, appropriated them among them- selves, and left the prisoners to starve ; or, while they reported to the United States authorities that they had distributed them as called for, and that the prisoners were urgently in need of more, the returning ti-uce boat would be loaded down with boxes from friends 62 SOTTTHEKlSr PKISONS ; of Southern prisoners, which were expressed through- out the North with most scrupulous fidelity on the part of the authorities of ihe North. A peculiar feature of our prison life, after we had been confined for some time, was the silence which reigned through the Island. The men had lost heart, and no longer talked among themselves. The senti- nels, of course, maintained a profound silence, and the Island thus became almost as still as the tomb, of which it was so fearfully typical. One might have lingered about it for days and never dreamed that thousands of men upon it were brooding over their sufferings and wrongs. Most had become reckless whether they lived or died, though, I doubt not, in the breast of many, hopes unconsciously lurked. Had we known that eleven months more of this terrible cap- tivity remained for most of us, I am certain all would have given way, and but few have come forth from the rebel dungeons alive. As it was, many would have received with positive joy and gratitude the order to walk out of the prison and be shot. In this desperate condition of affairs, the rebels tempted us with offers to enlist. To all who would join their ranks they promised abundant food, good care, and light duty, and the thought naturally occurred to every man that he might at an early day desert and join the Union armies again. About 2,000 did so enlist, and were put into the ranks. But were treated with no tol- eration by their comrades in the prison, and when one returned who had entered the rebel service he was liable to be beaten and badly injured. December 31st, closed up the old year, and aU felt solemn as they thought of what the year had brought OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 63 forth, and as they reflected on what might be develoj^ed by the year to come. Thoughts of festivities on previous Christmas and New Year's days, did not, by any means, tend to make our hearts light or our counte- nances happy. A feeble attempt at gayety was made, and a New Year's dance improvised. For a time the prisoners seemed to forget then- captivity and their mis- eries. The dance was kept up till the old year was dead and the new year had commenced to reign. This jollifi- cation was allowed by the rebels, either because they chanced for once to be in good humor, or, perhaps more likely, had amusements of their own to attend to, and had no leisure to look particularly after us. On New Year' s day an attempt was made by the rebel authori- ties to give us a New Year's dinner. No greater amount or variety of rations than usual were served out, but they were better cooked, and the whole afiair presented a much more decent appearance than on ordinary days. On January 8th, there was again much excitement on the Island, concerning a rumored exchange of prisoners. It was reported that Maj. Mulferd, our Commissioner of Exchange, was at City Point, making the necessary arrangements, by which all prisoners confined in national prisons were to be exchanged for Southern captives, pro- vided the rebels could show an equal number ; if not, then an equal number on each side. It was further rumored that 40 of our officers and 800 of our men had already been declared exchanged. The news created fond hopes and great anxiety, but I feared lest it might prove untrue. From our journeys through the South, from reading various Southern journals, and from conversation with men from many different States, as sentiaels, and in 64 SOUTHEEIT PEISONS ; other positions, we had at this time gathered mnch infor- mation concerning the actual condition of the Sonth — a matter which was little understood even by men high in position at the North. I may, too, say without vanity, that, from the fact of my having received a better educa- tion than most of my companions, I took more pains to understand this subject, and probably comprehended them more thoroughly. There were, at this tune, four great classes of men in the South : the officers and sol- diers of the armies ; the inhabitants of the cities, who transacted almost the entire business of the section ; the planters, who had not entered the army, and the negroes. Of these, the first was well enough known to the North ; the second were openly bitter secessionists and our deadly enemies, but they had suffered terribly in respect of pecuniary matters, their business bfeing greatly im- paired by the blockade, the deterioration of the currency and the poverty of the people, which was rapidly increas- ing. A few among them, who had capital sufficient to take advantage of events, as they developed opportuni- ties of commercial speculation, accumulated large for- tunes, and some retained these in safety during the whole struggle. But the majority of small tradesmen suffered greatly, and though rampant rebels outwardly, yet they were at heart sick of the war, and earnestly desu^ed its close, if not by the establishment of the inde- pendence of the South, then by making some arrange- ment with the North which should re-unite the two sections, if possible, save slavery, and go on as before. Before the war actually did close, this class was so utterly disgusted by then- losses and the disasters which befell the South, that they really hoped for a speedy victory of the Unionists and the overthrow of that Gov- OK. JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF ELOREIfCE. 65' eminent which had failed to protect them, and which had involved the whole South in disaster and ruin. From the plantations almost all the young, able- bodied white men had been drawn off into the army. But upon most the proprietor remained, overlooking his negroes and raising bacon and corn, a great part of which was bought up for the army. These planters, in that great district of the South which had not been rav- aged as yet, embracing a tract bounded on the north by the lines of Southern Tennessee and Middle Virginia, on the east by the Atlantic, on the south by the Gulf, and on the west by the Mississippi,- were in a comparatively flourishing condition, receiving larger amounts of Con- federate money for their crops, their plantations being comparatively removed from the shock of contending armies, theii' negroes not being exposed to Yankee enlist- ing officers, and their normal occupations consisting of a little watchfulness over the plantation in the morning, and then an adjournment to the nearest viUage or four corners, where they met their brother planters, read the latest papers which had arrived, compared views on the situation, and drank an illimitable amount of corn- whisky. Occasionally the ordinarily happy planters met with a rude shock, in the shape of a visit from a rebel officer, who urgently needed provisions, had not the funds to pay for them, and therefore took them, leaving with the disgusted planter an order on the War Department, which the \'ictim was obliged to collect generally with much trouble and delay. Still, taken altogether, this class was the most prosperous in the country, except these few high officers and speculators who accumulated fortunes at the expense of the South- ern people. 66 SOUTHEKN PRisoisrs ; The negroes had not yet been approached much by Union officers, except along the seaboard, along the Mississippi and on the northern line where the fight- ing was going on. There they had already been drawn off and enlisted in large numbers. It was, however, well known throughout the entire South, among the negroes, that a war of tremendous proportions was being waged, which involved the liberty of the colored race, and all were ready to desert the plantations upon the approach of a Union army. It will thus be seen that the Confederacy was a mere shell, utterly hollow, and protected only by the armies on the northern frontier. It was not, however, until the march of Sherman to the sea, that its utter helplessness was exposed. As Sherman swept unresisted south from Atlanta, the bubble bursted, and the world saw that the days of the Southern Confederacy were indeed num- bered. OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. CHAPTER VI. THE ATTEMPTED ESCAPE. Delicious Dog Soup. — Horrible State of the Prison. — Abortive Attempt to Escape. — Hoffman and myself are both Wounded. — We are sent to Castle Thunder. 'Tis liberty alone that gives the flow'r Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume. And we are weeds without it, Cowper'a Task. On January 20tli, there having been no excitement or report in camp for the previous two weeks, and rations being exceedingly small and unsatisfactory, I deter- mined to serve both purposes by capturing the com- manding officer's dog. It was quite young and fat, and could at any time of the day be seen running about out- side of the works. We quietly waited our chance until the guard happened to turn away, when, quietly hold- ing up a large bone with which to attract his attention, we wiled him over the works and into the tent which I shared. We all knew that if we were discovered in our occupation the angry officer would stop at no means of retaliation or panishment, and even in his rage might go so far as to shoot some of us down, but men exposed to the risks of war get fearfully accustomed to taking chances, and so we hazarded perhaps our lives here, for a bit of fun. But we were careful to make short work of the dog, digging a large hole in the earth floor C» SOUTHERN PRISONS; of the tent, holding him in such a way that he could not make the slightest noise, and quietly cut his throat, letting the blood drop into the earth. "We then dressed him, deposited in the hole the hide, head and whatever else was not eatable, and cooked the edible parts by boiling them in a kettle. We enjoyed a delicious dog soup, and ate the flesh, finding it exceedingly palatable, and the flavor rather racy, and not unlike some kinds of coarser game. The whole camp was searched for the absent canine, and a reward offered for the murderers of the dog, if they should be discovered. But we were all silent, and true to each other, so that the infuriated officer took nothing by his motion, while we reflected grimly that we had eaten him, and that some of us each night slept over his bones, most of which we had also buried in the hole, though many of us finally carried with us sonie small bones as relics of him and of our daring exploit. In the camp, mice were also considered by many a great luxury, and often a night was spent in trying to capture the little fellows, and the reward of the captor was a dish of mice soup for dinner. Another savory dish was formed by picking up the old beef bones that could be found in the camp, even if half decayed, and sometimes covered with vermin, breaking them up small and out of these making soup. Many readers will revolt at these facts, but there were no other resources for men who were continually preyed upon by hunger, and did not enjoy a hearty meal once in a month. One of the saddest features which was developed by this prison life was the selfishness and greediness which were instilled into the prisoners by the sufferings undergone. Every man soon began to look after his own interest only. OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOITTE OF FLORENCE. 69 and to be utterly regardless of the wants of otliers, and, alas, to often too the common humanities and amenities of life. Still there were some honorable exceptions, and prisoners, when sick, generally found some brother to alleviate their sufferings, and lend them a kind, help- ing hand. As an extreme illustration of the misery to which many were reduced through hanger, I may men- tion a single incident. A prisoner was ill, so ill that when he ate a few cow beans — a kind that are usually fed to cattle — he vomited them up almost immediately. A brother prisoner, nearly starved, deliberately picked out the beans, one by one, and greedily swallowed them. February 7th, for some reason, entirely unknown to us, we were deprived of even our usual rations, and a tumult consequently took place among the famished, excited and enraged prisoners. I determined to make an effort to escape, and with Edward Hoffman, a mem- ber of my mess, arranged the matter with the guard for a valuable consideration, both of us having kept con- cealed about us some Confederate money for use in emergencies. No class of men were more susceptible to pecuniary inducements, and, indeed, to direct bribes, than were the rebels, and Junius Henry Browne has happily hit off their character in this respect in the following lan- guage: "No class of people I have ever met are so suscepti- ble to a bribe as the rebels. From the pompous, swag- gering, pseudo gentleman down to the lackey^ they would all, like old Trapbois, in the ' Fortunes of Nigel.' do almost anything for a consideration. They outdid the stage Yankees in their fondness for bartering and 70 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; exchanging, and talked of swapping and trading you out of whatever you had or wore, in a manner I had not known — often as I have been in New England— to exist, save in histrionic Solomon Swops and Solon Shingles. They even play the mendicant almost as well as pro- fessional lazzaroni. You cannot have anything gay or striking on your person, any bright color or shining metal, but some fellow, who professes to be a gentle- man, will ask you, directly or indirectly, to give it to him. Poor devils ! they have no surplus of attire or adorn- ment ; but one would imagine, with all their pretension, they might, during the present century, have learned at least the first lesson in good-breeding. They are shams in manners, as they are in chivalry, hospitality, culture and everything else. They are brave, of course, because they are Americans ; but they must even pretend a recklessness of life and a passion for death that is not natural to humanity, and assuredly not to them more than to any other part of the great family. With all their braggadocio and bombast about perishing in the last ditch, and dying to the last man, woman and child, they know when they are whipped, as thoroughly and quickly as any other people, and have no more natural appetite for coffins and graveyards than the rest of man- kind. Of course, the leaders fought while they could keep a formidable army in the field ; and when they could not, they quietly submitted or run away." Our arrangement was that we should pass his beat and go down to 'the water side. It may be well to explain that there was but one bridge communication between the Island and Richmond, and a very small OK, JOSIEj THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 71 one at that, and closely guarded, the principal crossing being kept up by ferry boats. Bridges communicated with the other shore, but, as we proposed to strike for East Tennessee, we found it necessary to cross to the Richmond side, though we proposed to make a detour round the city, and then travel nights towards the west, and lie in concealment during the days. The passage of the river, we trusted, could easily be effected as soon as we reached the water's edge, as numbers of small boats were always lying there, and the night promised not to be very light. Precisely at eleven o'clock, the hour agreed upon, we presented ourselves to the senti- nel, and handing him one hundred dollars in Confeder- ate money, we quietly moved toward the water' s edge. There we soon found a boat snugly drawn up on the bank and under it a pair of oars, and put off at once. Everything went well until we had reached the middle of the stream. There I perceived a boat coming in an opposite direction and some little distance away, I stopped pulling at once and let the boat drift, hoping that the other would pass us without notice. But it was not fated to be so. A harsh voice, which 1 at once recognized as belonging to the commander of the Island, hailed us and demanded who we were and where we were going. Seeing that escape by speed was now our only chance, I pulled swiftly down the stream, but towards the shore which we were anxious to make. The com- mander ordered us to row back, but, seeing that we were drawing away at every pull of the oars, he fired at us. As ill luck would have it, the bullet struck me in the calf of the leg, and went straight and clear through, striking my friend, too, and hurting him considerably, though not inflicting a serious wound. By this time, 72 SOTTTHERN PRISONS; however, we had nearly reached the shore, and a few vigorous strokes carried ns safely to land, though the of&cer fired another unavailing shot at us. We mounted the bank and ran for it as fast as we could, and as men only can when liberty is at stake, but made slow pro- gress, as my wounded leg impeded me, and my com- panion was sufiiciently hurt to delay him materially. Soon we could hear the alarm given at the Island and see lights in motion, from which we knew that pursuit had commenced. We pushed forward, but in no long time were alarmed at seeing lights in front of us ; we changed our course, but the guards soon began fast to overtake us. I think I might have got away myself ,as I was now running well — the excitement and dangar making me regardless of pain — but one of the guards fired a musket at us, and my companion fell, badly wounded. I was unwilling to leave him in this plight, he having been an intimate friend during all the prison life, and so I halted and gave myself up to the squad, which had by this time gathered about my fallen friend. Being placed between two files of soldiers we were marched straight into Eichmond, my friend being half carried the whole distance, and were turned over to the mercies of Capt. George W. Alexander, the commander of Castle Thunder, our wounds being dressed, and after being carefully searched for knives, fire arms, etc., in fact for everything that could be of any value or use to us. We were then cast into a cell, lined entii-ely with iron, and night and day, for over three weeks, we lay in this dungeon, into which the light of day never even penetrated. Each day the sentinel thrust through an opening in the grating a piece of coarse bread, often made of decaying flour, and a mug of water, on which OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 73 unsubstantial ration we were forced to sustain life for the next twenty-four hours. For the necessities of decency, an old bucket was piit in the cell, and some- times not removed for three or four days. No water was served us to wash in, and as it was continually dark it was impossible to rid ourselves of the vermin and lice which soon covered our bodies and swarmed over the cell. Before our release the vermin actually ate holes in our bodies large enough to insert a man' s finger. The cell was excessively cold, and our suffering from that cause was intense. Hope, indeed, almost departed from us during our imprisonment in this almost actual tomb, until, one morning, as the sentinel came to the door he, to our intense amazement, unlockeked it, and ordered us out. It was a joyous order for us, though it sent us back to Belle Isle. We came forth pale, wan, looking like spectres. The light blinded us, and it seemed as though we had undergone a long imprisonment. In those few days we gained a vivid conception of what must be the fate of any so unfortunate as to be incar- cerated in these gloomy cells for any lengthy period. Such must indeed soon become dead to the world, and grow forgetful of the past, as well as hopelees for the future. There we were compelled again to witness the suffer- ings of our fellow-prisoners. Horrible as they were when we made our escape, they had grown far worse durmg our absence, and many of our best friends, weary of nfe, had refused to take food, and were now num- bered among the dead. The prisoners remaining in con- finement looked paler and thinner, and not long for this world. After our return the greatest barbarities were practiced, the rations being of almost no value, no meat 10 74 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; being issued, and the bread being reduced to one-sixtli of a loaf per day. Men were being constantly carried to tlie hospital, and the number of deaths was three times as great as the number when we were there before. OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 75 CHAPTER VII. CORROBORATING TESTIMONY Authoritative Evidence gathered from Richmond Prisoners — A collec- tion of Horrors. Talk not of comfort, 'tis for lighter ills; I will indulge my sorrows, and give way To all the pangs and fury of despair. AddisorCs Cato. Evidence conclusively sustaining my own in regard to the terrible sufferings of the Union prisoners at Belle Island is abundant, but being collected by persons who were not themselves present and witnesses of the rebel barbarities, it does not adequately portray the atrocities which were there witnessed by myself. Among the mass of testimony existing upon the question, however, is that gathered at Annapolis by Miss D. L. Dix, who is recog- nized as an authority upon the theme, and of this we present the exceedingly graphic and forcible report : Miss D. L. Dix, sworn and examined : "Last winter I was at Annapolis, and examined many hundred returned prisoners. I inquii-ed of these men exactly the manner in which they were fed and treated on Belle Island — examined them individually, and by sixes and sevens. I saw no disposition on the part of these men to exag- gerate their sufferings. Inquiring from what causes they had suffered most severely, whether rapid marches, exposure to inclement weather, lack of apparel, or hun- ger, the answer was invariably, ' From hunger, while at 76 SOUTHERN PEISOU^S ; Belle Island.' I inquired the amount of animal food allowed a day, when tliey had any at all ; they replied that an iron-bound bucket, filled with packed meat, was the allowance for one hundred men ; the weight of bucket and meat would be twenty-flve pounds. When cooked this afforded a very small quantity for each man. As Winter and Spring advanced, the only food supplied was corn meal mixed with water and roughly bak^d. This bucket of meat I speak of was allowed them about twice a week, with very little rice in the Autumn. I understand that in the hospitals they occasionally had a little boiled rice, to which was sometimes added a very small quantity of brown sugar or molasses. I gather from Confederate authority as well as from our returned prisoners — and a Confederate official, whose evidence cannot be questioned in that matter, declared, that the sole sustenance at Belle Island was corn meal and water — that of the numbers remaining at Belle Island, then about eight thousand, about twenty-five died daily ; that the mortality in Georgia was still greater, and that it would be but a few weeks before the deaths would count fifty a day. Another fact which he affinued as a reason for withholding so much from our prisoners, sent by their friends and the Government, was the cruel and severe restrictions imposed on their men in our hands. I had visited those very prisons to whom he referred at Point Lookout ; they were supplied with vegetables, with the best wheat bread, and fresh or salt meat three times daily, in abundant measure — the full Government ration. In the camp of about nine thousand rebel pris- oners, there were but four hundred reported to the sur- geon ; of these, one hundred were confined to their beds, thirty were very sick, and perhaps fifteen or twenty OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 77 wonld never recover. The hospital food consisted of beef tea, beef soup, rice, milk, milk punch, milk gruel, lemonade, stewed fruits, beefsteak, vegetables and mut- ton ; white sugar was employed in cooking. The. sup- plies were, in fact, more ample and abundant than in many hospitals where our own men were under treat- ment. To return to the condition of the Federal prisoners on Belle Island, there was at no time adequate shelter for the entire number till late in the Spring, when the num- ber had been greatly reduced by transfer to Georgia, exchanges and death. I was told that in the morning it was not at all uncommon to lind men dead from expo- sui'e and rain. I have repeatedly seen the exchanged prisoners reduced to the lowest extremity through want of food. Of more than four hundred landed in Baltimore some little time since, nearly, if not the entire number, were suffering from the effects of hunger ; more than one hun- dred of these were taken a few yards across 'the wharf to the hospital on stretchers ; seven died before they could could be taken into the the building, and seven more that same night. Their clothing was filthy to the last degree ; they were covered with vermin ; they were the merest bundles of bones and skin, and some bones pierc- ing the flesh. The cries of these poor men for food, were pitiful in the extreme. In addition to their other suffer- ings, many had lost part of their feet by frost. The minds showed the weakness of the body — som.e were reduced to idiocy. They would entreat for an apple or a bit of meat to look at, if they could not be allowed solid food. Many of these poor creatures died, and others, I understand from surgeons, are enfeebled fo ! 78 SOUTHERN PRISOKS; life. Many of these prisoners when brought on the flag- of-truce boat, were observed to clasp theii' hands and fix their gaze upon the American flag, ' It is enough, thank God we are at home.' A remarkable trial of disinter- estedness : Rev. M. Hall said, ' What can I do for you, my boys V ' Hasten exchanges, and bring away our comrades.' A gentleman of Washington, who had been pei-mitted to convey a body for burial to the South on board the flag-of-truce boat, remarked that all the rebel prisoners were in vigorous health, equipped in clothes furnished by the United States Government ; many of them with blankets and haversacks, while we received in return not one able-bodied man at that time. I have witnessed this fact myself on other occasions on the flag-of-truce boats. The rations served to the prisoners on Belle Island, whether drawn from supplies furnished by the Federal Government or not, or through the individual liberality of Northern citizens, were never dis]3ensed in sufficient quantities by the Confederate authorities to satisfy hun- ger. I have seen tons of provisions shipped on the flag- of-truce boat from the North for the relief of our pris- oners at Richmond. Little or nothing came from the South for the rebel prisoners at the North. Clothing and blankets were sent by our Government to the pris- oners in quantities, but not fully distributed. One reason why our men were so wholly destitute of clothing at a late season, was the temptation that they were under to give them away for a biscuit, or a small quan- tity of food, to save them from starvation. D. L. DIX." I certify that the foregoing testimony was taken and reduced to writing in presence of the respective wit- OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORENCE. 79 nesses, and by them sworn or affirmed to in my presenc at the time, place, and in the manner set forth. D. P. BROWN, Jr., United States Commissioner. And in concluding my account of what we under- went at Belle Island, I subjoin the following stanzas by Herman Mellville, which so beautifully portray the feel- ings of the soldier : IN THE PRISON PEN. Listless he eyes the palisades, And sentries in the glare, 'Tis barren as a plican beach — But his world is ended there. Nothing to do ; and vacant hands Bring on the idiot pain ; He tries to think — to recollect — But the blur is on his brain. Around him swarm the plaining ghosts Like those on Virgil's shore — A wilderness of faces d.\rr.. And pale ones gashed and hoar. A smiting sun. No shed, no tree; He totters to his lair — A den that sick hands dug in earth Ere famine wasted there. Or, dropping in his place, he swoons, Walled m by throngs that press, Till forth from the throngs they bear him dead — Dead in his meagreness. 80 SOtJTHEEN PEISONS CHAPTER YIIL AN EPITOME OF ADVENTUKE. The Notorious Gen. Winder. — Our Removal to Andersonville. — Tes timony of Surgeon A. Chapel. — Hoffman and myself Escape from the Train. — We are Captured by Indians and Regain our Liberty, *Tis vain — my tongue cannot impart My almost drunkenness of heart. When first this liberated eye Surveyed earth, ocean, sun and sky. As if my spirit pierced them through. And all their inmost wonders knew ! ' ;. One word alone can point to the That more than feeling — I was free ! E'en for thy presence ceased to pine : The world — nay — heaven itself was mine! ByrorCs Bride of Ahydon. One of tlie men wlio were famous at Riclimond for their tyranny and barbaritj', was the notorious Gen. Winder. Him I saw once or twice, and I cannot do better than to quote the description of him by Mr. Pol lard himself, the Southern historian. ' ' Davis' right-hand man in Richmond was Gen. Winder, of Maryland — ' a name that thousands of living persons yet recall with horror.' This 'head jailor of the Confederacy' was near 60 years of age ; his hair was white and tufty, and at a distance he had a patriarchal appearance. But his face was a picture of cruelty — a study for an OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 81 artist ; a harsh, dry face, cruel eyes, not muddy, as from temper, but with a clear, cold light in them ; a faded, poisonous mouth, on which a smile seemed mock- ery. He was corrupt, avaricious, treacherous, yet had absolute power over Richmond for years." It being at last apparent, even to the rebels them- selves, that to longer retain us upon the Island would prove the certain death of at least two-thirds of the pris- oners who yet remained and not wishing to lessen th.^ number of the captives held by them so greatly as to render abortive all their attempts at an interchange, it was determined to transfer us to Andersonville, the stockade of which was at this time partially completed. On the morning of an April day, the first four hundred men were ordered to Richmond for transportation, myself being one of the number, a circumstance for which I was profoundly thankful, as I was certain that no field prison could be worse than was Belle Island. My friend Hoffman, who by this time was somewhat recovered from his wound, was also among the number^ another source of gratification to me. We had several conferences before starting South, and fully made up our minds to escape if possible on our journey thither, for which we were certain, from what we had already seen of the transportation of prisoners, opportunities would be offered. By nine o'clock in the morning we had left Rich- mond, traveling in the same eternal cattle cars, and the train was soon under way. It was densely crowded, but the men, though suffering intensely from cold and hunger, were in very good spirits, all hoping that the new prison might be an improvement on the old one. As we left Richmond on our dreary journey towards 11 82 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; Andersonville, we crossed the James River upon one of the long bridges, and, as we neared the centre of the stream, Belle Island came in fall view, with its prison, earthworks, and its captive inmates moving about, indis- tinct specks from our point of view. To me the sight of this abode of wretchedness, where I had sj^ent the four saddest months of my life, where first I had expe- rienced the full and real horrors of war and its attendant captivity, was a source of serious and gloomy reflection. Of the horrors of Belle Island and Castle Thunder I was deeply conscious ; that they exceeded the barbarities ever practiced upo5i prisoners of war by any civilized community, I had firmly believed ; but now, that we were being removed to an unknown country, consigned to unknown dangers and sufferings, my heart could not avoid the question: Are there yet in store for myself and my patriot comrades, torments even yet more fearful than those which we have already undergone ? And as I reflected upon the probable continuance of the war, of the intensified hatred and malignity which w^ould ani- mate the souls of the Rebels, as their hopes of success grew fainter, and their peril greater, I could not resist the conclusion that a harder fate than even that hitherto undergone, lay in wait for the Union prisoners. Yet my courage never quailed. I glided by Belle Island, and it became a thing of the past, while I nerved my soul to meet the unknown future as a solclier and pa- triot. In order to substantiate more thoroughly the state- ments already made in relation to our suffering and pri- vations upon Belle Isle, and in order that the most skeptical may be fuUy satisfied as to their truth, we subjoin the following testimony of Surgeon A. Chapel, OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 83 given at Baltimore, June 2, 1864, and in presence of three of the Commissioners of Inquiry, appointed by the United States Sanitary Commission. "commissioners present: Dr. Mott, De. Delafield, Judge Hare. Surgeon A. Chapel, affirmed and examined : I am Surgeon in charge of West' s Buildings Hospi- tal, Baltimore. On the 18th of April, 1864, I received at the hospital one hundred and five of the paroled pri- soners from Richmond, brought to this point on the flag- of- truce boat, "New York." These were the worst cases received at this point by that boat ; none of them being able to stand alone. All were brought into the hospital upon stretchers. Nearly all were in an extreme state of emaciation, filthy in the extreme, and covered with vermin. Some of them so eaten by the vermin as to very nearly resemble a case of scabbing from small-pox, being covered with sores from head to foot, so as scarcely to be able to touch a well portion of the skin with the point of the finger. Their appearance was such in the way of filth and dirt, as to convince any one that they had not had an opportunity for ablution for weeks and months. Several were in a state of semi-insanity, and all seemed, and acted, and talked, like children, in their desires for food, &c. Very few of them had blankets or clothing, some in a state of semi-nudity. Upon being questioned upon the causes of their con- dition, the testimony was universal : — starvation, expo- sure and neglect, while prisoners at Eichmond and Belle Isle. 84 SOUTHEEN PRISONS ; Tlieir universal declaration was, in reference to their living, tliat tliey were provided with only one small por- tion of corn-bread per day, which was made simply from corn-meal and water, without salt, not larger than a man' s hand ; it was about an inch and a quarter thick. This was the portion for the day. They sometimes got small portions of meat once a day, two days in a week. Several of them told me that they had been able to get occasionally a small piece of the flesh of a dog, which they had cooked and eaten with great relish, and that they had caught rats and eaten them in the same way. Many of them believed that the meat issued to them was cut from the bodies of mules. They said, while on Belle Isle they had no means of shelter, but were obliged to huddle together in heaps, to protect themselves from the inclement weather ; — often one or two blankets in thickness covering five or six persons ; — often lying one upon another in tiers, and changing places as they became tired out. They state that they had little or no shelter while prisoners at Belle Isle. We were obliged to treat them as children, in regu- lating their diet in the hospital, having to restrain their over-eating, and confine them to a concentrated but nourishing and generous diet. Several cases had no disease whatever, but suffered from eextreme maciation and starvation. The limb of one of these men could be spanned with the thumb and finger, just above the knee. This patient, a boy of nine- teen years old, would not weigh over fifty pounds then, though in health probably one hundred and thirty-five pounds. This was not a solitary instance, many others being extremely emaciated. Many presenting the ap- OR, .TOSIE, THE HEEOHSTE OF FLOEEIfCE. 85 pearance of mere living skeletons, with the skin drawn tightly over the bones. Many of them were laboring under such diseases as dropsy, pulmonary consumption, scurvy, mortification from cold, several having lost one-half of both feet from this cause. Several were afflicted with very severe bed-sores, caused by lying in the sand without shelter. One man, unable to lie in any other way but on his face, and lived about four weeks in this way. Up to the present time, of the number received, (one hundred and five,) forty-two have died. All gave evi- dence of extensive visceral disease, of which starvation, cold and neglect were undoubtedly the primary cause. Some of the cases sank from extreme debility, without any evidence of disease as the cause of death. A. CHAPEL, Surgeon U. S. A Affirmed to and subscribed before me, June 2d, 1864. D. P. BROWN, Jr., United States Commissioner." As soon as darkness began to come on in the evening, I commenced to take measures for carrying out my plan of escape. I had procured a large, sharp bladed jack-knife, just before leaving Belle Island, buying it from a comrade, and, as there had been no motive for searching us since, I still retained it. With this I suc- ceeded, after a deal of labor, in cutting a hole through the back of our car, "the rear one," being aided in my work by the fact that the timber was old and most of it rotten. By about two or three o'clock in the morn- ing the undertaking was successfully completed, and 86 SOUTHEEN PRISONS; when within about twenty miles of Raleigh, N. C, as I afterwards learned, first one and then the other crept carefully through, and turning round, so as to face in the same direction that the cars were running in, then letting himself down slowly, each let go, and in this way, the cars running but about ten miles an hour, both got safely off, though a little scratched and bruised as we came down. We lay flat on our faces as we fell, for some time, that no one might notice us, though it was so dark that this precaution was rather unnecessary. Our comrades might many of them have escaped in the same way, had they possessed the nerve, but they seem- ed not to wish to run the risk, so that we were left alone, a result far more favorable to our permanent escape than if many had jumped ofi" and we had attempted to get away in a body. As soon as the train was fair- ly out of sight, we sprang up and marched off at the top of our speed for the woods again, ultimately shaping our course for the mountains of East Tennessee, moving directly towards the Cumberland Mountains which constitute the dividing barrier between North Carolina and East Tennessee, and which were distant 160 miles from our present position, a fact which I learned subse- quently. We hoped ultimately to cross this range of mountains and getting into East Tennessee, we had no doubt of our ability then to make our way without dif- ficulty to Knoxville, my former post. There I expected I would find my regiment and would once more be able to shake hands with old friends. We traveled but little that night, as day soon commenced to dawn. During the day we lay in a clump of woods, entirely without food, not daring to emerge from our conceal- ment, though we could see a few houses scattered about OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORE]SrCE. 87 in the distance. We detenned to run no more risk tlian was absolutely necessary, and to lie quietly by during tlie day, and in the evening, which would be just as dark as the night, endeavor to purchase some provisions from the negroes, by whom we were certain we should not be betrayed. This programme was carried out to the letter, though not without severe pangs of hunger, and many anathemas from us ou the length of the day and the cold, which was excessive. At night we stole out and traveled about two miles on our way before finding any negro cabin. There we stumbled on some situated at a distance from the house of the owner of the plantation. We entered one quietly, causing, how- ever, no little apprehension among the inmates, told them outright that we were escaped Union prisoners, that we wanted food to eat and some to carry on our way, and that we had money to pay for it. It was pro- vided at once, and we carried away enough corn bread and bacon, as we thought, to last us a week. We did not, however, stop a moment longer there than was necessary to procure and stow away our edibles. Eating in that vicinity was dangerous, and we pushed forward fully four or five miles before we came to a halt and enjoyed a hearty meal, which wonderfully revived us, albeit coarse. It was, however, substantial, and that was the sort of food which escaping captives needed . In this way we journeyed on for ten successive nights, seeing no one near enough to us in the day time to cause any apprehension, and at night stopping only once to obtain a renewed supply of provisions. For two days and some part of the nights of our jour- ney, it rained, not making our condition much plea- santer, though during the rain storms the severity of the 88 SOUTHERN prisons; weather was sensibly mitigated. We swam several small streams, both of us being excellent swimmers, carrying our clothing in bundles strapped on our backs. It was wearisome, but not seriously enough to dis- turb men who had become so familiar with desperate hardships as had we. The deserted appearance ot the country through Vv^hich we passed struck me most for- cibly. It seemed as though all the planters were gone, and I presume they had left the country to spend i7art of the winter in the cities, and there squander a Dortion of what they had realized from the sale of their crops. In many instances, no doubt, an overseer was left to look after the the negroes, but in many cases, too, they were left wholly unwatched. It was not necessary that a white man should be present to see that they worked, as at this season there was but little to be done, nor had the Union armies approached quite near enough to this section to cause a general rising or escape, but many had run away and penetrated into Tennessee, and some months later saw a general liegira not only for Tennes- see, but even for the distant seaboard. The most wearisome part of our journey was through the swamps, where our progress was slow, and we suf- fered terribly from cold and the continual dampness, yet many of them had to be crossed, as we were entirely ignorant of the localities, and knew not whether an attempted detour round a swamp would lead us one mile or twenty out of our course. At the end of the ten days and nights spoken of above, we reached the ridge of mountains, and on the tenth night we slept in a cave on the side of the range, having determined to take a night' s rest, as we believed ourselves comparatively out of danger. OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OP FLORENCE. 89 The next morning we were guilty of a most impru- dent thing, an attempt to travel successfully over the range "by daylight. No doubt we had finally become careless through our immunity from pursuit, and the utter quietude of the country which had characterized our journey previously, but we ought certainly never to have imperilled our chances of escape by this fool- hardy movement at the last hour. I believe, however, that it is always this last hour, when decisive success seems in the grasp, that most tempts the man who is ven- turing in anything, and most frequently proves his un- doing. It seems that the rebels, desirous of drawing every white man possible into their regular armies, had employed a tribe of Indians, friendly to them, and a remnant of the old Creek nation, which formerly lived in that section, to guard the passes of these mountains. They were naturally keenly on the lookout for deserters and stragglers, receiving a reward in money and whisky for every one of either class whom they brought in. A gang of them lying in ambush, after their native fashion, chanced to get a glimpse of us as we toiled up the mountain side, and forthwith pounced upon as. We ran, they pursued, firing their guns meanwhile, but making no serious attempts to hit us, as they wished to present us alive before the nearest Confederate ofiicer, and, after a desperate chase, Hoffman's wound again impeding his progress, and being greatly delayed by almost useless attempts to assist him, the result was that we were both gobbled up. The Indians after a little period of rest, which after their efforts, they required not less than we, marched us all day until six o'clock in the evening, intending, as 12 90 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; we then supposed, to carry us directly to a Confederate headquarters. They did not offer to search us, from which we inferred that the class of prisoners whom they usually took was made up of men who never had any money upon their persons. Their halt at six was caused by coming upon an institudon which almost invariably stops an Indian in these days, no matter upon what errand he may be bent, to-wit : a distillery. They had marched all day without any thing in the shape of a single glass of whisky to cheer or strengthen them. It was therefore morally impossible to pass the distillery without quaffing some tire-water, even though they had Union prisoners in charge. The instant I saw that they were about to stop at the distillery, I formed a plan of escape from these captors, based upon their well known love of strong drink and the almost certainty that, if they took t.wo or three glasses, they would never quit until dead drunk. So, as they went into the front room of the distillery and proceeded to order their glasses — or, rather, cups, as it was served in such tin vessels — I said that we were tired and wanted some too. They evidently had no objection, provided we paid the score. We all drank, smacked our lips, and I suggested that a second glass, or cup, would do us no injury. They acquiesced, and even were so gracious as to order a third, by which time I could see that the fiery liquor was working already in their heads, and veins. The knowledge that we were playing for our lives perhaps, certainly for our liberty, kept my comrade and myself perfectly sober. The In- dians now suggested that we must be going. I made no objection, not wishing to excite any suspicion, but proposed to purchase a gallon jug of whisky to carry OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 91 along and refresh ourselves as we might need it. To this they gladly acceded, and with my friend and myself carrying the whisky, we started out into the night, all the Indians walking very unsteadily, and seeming much confused in their intellects, which at ordinary times were none of the clearest, owing to their almost constant use of intoxicating dilnks. A march of not more than two miles brought us to a sheltered spot, where they announced their intention of camping for the night. Before that was sought, and af- ter they had lighted a good fire, round which they and we should sleep, the jug was produced, and all com- menced to drink, sending it round the circle by turns two or three times. In half an hour every Indian ex- cept the one whom they had picked out as the first sen- tinel, was stupidly drunk, and had fallen into a deep heavy sleep. The sentinel was not much better, but being unable to walk straight, and carrying his gun in a way that threatened to kill one of us to a certainty if the hammer chanced to strike anything. Him we at once enticed by the jug, and we three had a drinking bout of half an hour more, which resulted in the senti- nel' s following the example of his worthy associates, and falling asleep as he sat up, in consequence of which he was only prevented from falling into the fire by our sudden interposition. We stayed not upon the order of our going, but each seized a loaded rifle, took from an Indian a supply of cartridges, and moved quietly out upon the ridge, directing our course again towards East Tennessee. We might easily have killed the whole party of Indians, and thus avoided all danger of pur- suit from them, but our hearts revolted at such wholesale slaughter, and we preferred taking our chances of escape. U2 SOUTHERN PRISOIirS CHAPTER IX. OUR RE-CAPTURE. Skirmish with the Rebel Cavalry. — The old Flag in sifht when cap- tured. — We are sent to Atlanta again. — I see Miss Seymour for a moment. Absence, with all its pains. Is in this charming moment wiped away. 77u>mson. We pushed forward that night about 10 miles, over and down the opposite slopes of the hills, and lay in concealment during the next day, taught by our bitter experience of the day before. Early in the evening we started on, and had made some miles, when a turn in the road brought us to a little plain on the side of the hills, and we were alarmed to find a party of a dozen rebel cavabjnnen encamped upon it, with fires lighted and preparations made for supper. It so happened, unfortunately, too, that the rebels chanced to see us as soon as we saw them, and at once, suspecting something wrong, they demanded our surrender. We, having our muskets, refused to obey, and fired upon th^m, wound- ing two, but in the end, having no time to reload, we were both captured, and after aU the misery and toil incurred in our attempt to escape, we again found our- selves in the hands of our hated enemy, and this time we had no hope of being able to escape through such wiles as we practiced upon the Indians, as, however OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 93 much the rebs love whisky— a cu'cum stance which they rarely took even the trouble to deny — it was almost im- possible to so lar intoxicate a squad of them as to induce them to become at all negligent in the case of a hated Yankee. We bivouacked all night upon the side of the hill, and early in the morning were taken by the rebels back upon its summit, and there, in the clear morning air, were shown the stars and stripes floating at a distance of several miles down in the valley, where a body of Union soldiers lay encamped. It was a bitter thought, that within sight of our own men, we were yet in the hands of the enemy, with the prospect of being restored to another long captivity. No doubt, the infernal rebs, with that malignity which always characterized them in their dealings with Union prisoners, had prepared this sight for us with the express view of torturing our hearts. In their souls, too, I have no doubt they re- joiced with a fiendish exultation, at the misery which they too clearly saw painted in our features, as we gazed despairingly at the national flag. As I looked far away over the level lands at my feet, I reflected, however, with grim enjoyment, that two rebels had been placed liors du combat the night before by the prisoners, and fer- vently hoped that the fortunes of war might bring me face to face with the enemy on the battle field before the struggle ended. We were marched to a place called Marion, and thence sent by rail to Atlanta again. From the time when I learned that Atlanta was our destination, I could think of nothing save Miss Seymour, and the chances of my being able to see her. If I could not go so far as to rejoice that I was being taken to Atlanta, the suf- 94 SOTTTHERlSr PRISOI»fS ; fering was certainly, greatly mitigated by the retiection tliat I might possibly meet that being, who was now dearer to me than anything else in the world, and I de- termined that no eflTorts should be left unspared by me to procure an interview with her. The morning after our arrival at Atlanta, our roil was called, and our names ascertained. The authorities also demanded to know from what prison we had es- caped, and on our answering, they telegraphed to Rich- mond for additional information which should render certain our account of ourselves. Within two or three days, full information having been received by the Rebels, it was announced that we would be sent to Andersonville, and preparations were commenced for our transportation thither. In the meantime I racked my brains in vain to think of some plan by which I might see Miss Seymour, but in vain. We were so closely watched, that any movement outside the jail where we were confined was absolutely impossible, and on this occasion having no friends among the authorities of the jail, I was unable to procure any leave of absence, and thus during the entire term of our confinement at Atlanta, I was utterly unable to meet my love at all. On the morning fixed for our departure, we made an early start and reached the depot by about seven o'clock, finding there a train of cars, some devoted to the transportation of baggage and freight, and two others, on the rear of the train, being passenger coaches. I stood gazing listlessly about the platform, as the time for starting was yet distant, when, to my intense sur- prise, and it is needless to say to my intense delight, 1 saw Miss Seymour appear upon the platform, and walk OR, JOSIE, TJSE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 95 forward to one of tlie passenger coaches. I stood be- tween lier and tlie car wliicli she seemed desii-ous of entering, and she advanced straight towards me, though evidently not recognizing me until quite near, when a start, a half recoil, and then a blush and smile, told me that she remembered me. As for myself, I could not speak. The joy of seeing her thus near me, took from me all my wonted presence of mind, or control over my- self. I only stared at her in what I fear must have been an excessively rude manner, until she broke the silence herself. She asked me where I had been during all the time since I had met her at Atlanta, and in hurried low tones, I told her all I could compress into two or three minutes talk. How I had been sent away from Atlanta so suddenly, my imprisonment, escapes and recaptures, and my present destination. ^ I succeeded in learning that she was going on a visit to Macon, Ga., which is distant sixty miles from Andersonville. At this point in our conversation, the guards, who had been lounging about, but keeping a sufficient watch upon us, coming up, I was forced to tear myself from her, and was, with my companion, Hoffman, placed in the luggage car, and the train soon moved off. I had seen enough of Miss Seymour, however, to feel certain that she still took a lively interest in me, and I felt assured that I would see her at Andersonville, though she had made no such promise directly. 96 80UTHEEN PEISON 8 J CHAPTER X. ANDERSONVILLE. The Stockade Prison, — The Swamp and River. — The Dead Line. — Great Throng of Prisoners. — Twenty-three Days of Rain. — The Great Flood. — No Shelter. — Horrible Sufferings and Brutal Treat- ment. The place thou saw'st was hell. The groans thou heard'st Of those who could not be redeemed. Anom/mou». We reached our destination about three o'clock in the afternoon of the same day, and were turned over to Captain Wirtz, commanding the Andersonville prison. Our first interview with him impressed us favorably, and not knowing his real character, we looked upon him then as a man of honorable sentiments, tnough firm in the discharge of his duties, and perhaps even harsh when provoked. How widely difierent a char- acter did we give him when thoroughly acquainted with his heart and intentions, as we too soon were. Within a very few hours we were each ornamented with a ball and chain attached to our legs, which Wirtz informed us we would have the pleasure of carrying round for the next three months. This was the punishment that we received for our late escape, and as he watched the blacksmith rivet them on, he said in his half Dutch, half English, "I fix you G — d d — d Yankees so you OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOEENCE. 97 not get away again." This thirty-two pound ball we carried about by the chain to which it was attached, and after getting it on we were marched down to the prison, turned over to the sergeant of the fourth hun- dred, and ordered to join his mess. The prisoners were divided in this way into hundreds, and each one consti- tuted a squad or division of itself. Each hundred was again divided into five messes, of twenty men each, and each mess was numbered, running up 1, 2, 3, 4, etc. Once inside the camp, which was surrounded by a high stockade, a crowd assembled about us, making all sorts of inquiry ; first, as to the cause of our being hon- ored by the ball and chain, and after that, as to the par- ticulars of our escape and recapture. It was the first time in the camp that Wirtz had exhibited himself in his true light, as a most outrageous tjrrant, and the men were yet new to the idea of going round camp with thirt3'--two pounds of useless iron dragging after him, or else carried by him. They soon, however, became fami- liar enough with it, and learned to regard it as an unusu- ally mild punishment, compared with many that they soon experienced. I racked my wits in vain to devise some plan for getting rid of the ball and chain, or "watch and chain," as the prisoners often facetiously called them. Even if I got it off and buried it in the ground, the next morning would reveal its absence to the guard, and some terrible punishment would be cer- tain to follow. At last, however, I hit upon a plan which promised success, and which I determined to i^ut into execution at once. Procuring from one of the guards a file and lead bullet for a slight consideration in money, it being easy enough to bribe a guard at the prisons, so long as one could command a little Confederate scrip, 13 SOUTHERN PRISOTsS-, their passion for whisky was such, and their inability to gratify it so great, owing to the distress of the Confeder- ate Government, and their irregular payments in debased Confederate money. I filed out the iron rivet which held the shackle on my ankle, and in its stead I placed a lead one, which I manufactured out of the bullet. Thus I wore the ball and chain during roll call, and the other parts of the day when I was about camp in sight of guards or oncers. But whenever I was not liable to observation, I quietly removed my incumbrances, and took my ease like a gentleman, at least so far as the having no impediments to my free motions, though real ease at Andersonville, I soon found, was not to be pur- chased by any amount of money or ingenuity. Every morning at roll call the rebels examined the chain, but seeing that it was fast, they made no minute investiga- tion, and jumped to the conclusion that everything must be all right. In this way I deceived my tyrannical cap- tors, and did not wear the ball and chain for more than two hours out of the twenty-four, and at the end of ten days, the rebels thinking that I had been punished suffi- ciently, took off the disgraceful appendages altogether, the blacksmith himself not even discovering that the rivet had been changed when he removed it. The camp at Andersonville covered about sixteen acres, of which a tract of about three was covered with swamp, with a stream of dark, turbid water running through it, whose liquid looked almost as unhealthy and repulsive as did the waters standing about in the swamp. It was only a few feet wide, and passing over the swamp, ran through the centre of the camp, furnish- ing us almost all the water whioh we could obtain lor purposes of drink or for washing. One side of the camp OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORlWCE. 99 Was rather low, and was kno"v\Ti as the " South Side." The other side was higher, and sloped in one direction gradually down towards the swamp. In warm weather, even on days in early spring, when the weather was a little milder than usual, the effluvium from this swamp was intensely disagreeable and sickening, and must have aided greatly in causing the excessive mortality which prevailed there. The dead line with which prisoners early became acquainted in a fearful manner, and of which most northerns have now heard often, was a small railing nailed along on the top of posts at a space of fifteen feet inside the stockade. The latter was about fifteen feet high, with boxes for the sentinels built upon the outside, and attached to the stockade with a plat- form for the guard to walk upon all the way round it, so that each sentinel could, whenever deemed necessary, make the complete circuit. The stockade itself was made of trees cut down and worked into logs, the ends sharpened and driven into the ground. The upper ends were also sharpened to increase the difficulty of getting over them. When we first arrived at Anderson ville there was but one stockade, but afterwards others were erected for greater security. It was almost bare and desolate, this whole prison, situated in a dark, gloomy country, with little to relieve the dismal prospect when I first went there, and everything rapidly became worse as the weeks rolled on. For the first three or four weeks after our arrival at Andersonville, we were tolerably well supplied with rations, though comprising only corn meal as a general thing, and a respectable allowance of wood was furnished in comparison with that omitted to be served at Belle* Isle, or sei-v-ed in such insignificant quantities as to be 100 SOUTHEKN PRISONS ; practically useless. By that time, however, all the pri- soners from Belle Isle had arrived, and a sudden and alarming reduction m the rations took place. There were about ten thousand men in camp ; think of that, my readers, ten thousand men crowded for their permanent quarters into sixteen acres of ground, and that too, with no effort at diminishing the evils which must speedily arise, and breed pestilence and death, with an utter recklessness on the part of the rebels as to whether we lived or died. Indeed, during the latter months of the war, when it was evident that their cause was lost, the rebels seemed determined to kill off aU the prisoners in their hands, and wreak on them, defenceless and at their mercy, vengeance for the disasters which they had suffered at the hands of Grant and Sherman, and the Union soldiers. Prisoners kept continually coming in from aU parts of the South, it being evident that the rebels intended to make this the grand prison-pen of the Confederacy, and thus avoid the expense in money and men attendant upon maintaining a large number of prisons, as they had previously done. The number within a few weeks reached the enormous aggregate of thirty thousand, and before I succeeded in escaping, no less than six thousand more had been added, swelling the grand total to about thirty-six thousand of prisoners actually received ; but there were probably never more than thirty thousand confined within the walls at one time, as by the time that the last detachment arrived, sickness had already made fearful havoc, and continued so to do, so that the time I speak of, when the thirty thousand were gathered * there, long after my arrival, was probably the occasion of the prison being fullest. As the numbers of the OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORElSrCE. 101 inmates increased, too, tlie rations continually grew smaller. There were no issues of clothing, and the old scenes of suffering and misery that were experienced on Belle Island were renewed at Andersonville, but (m a grander scale. Again we were mercilessly exposed to cold and storms, pinched with hunger, on some days the sun glaring hot and deadly down upon us, utterly without shelter from its rays ; breeding pestilence and death from the swamp and river, so that it often seemed to me at evening, as though I could actually see death stalking among us, selecting his victims for attack, and the next day was sure to bring its cases of sudden and violent illness that made fresh graves within a few hours. As an Illustration of the dreadful sufferings which the Union prisoners underwent at Andersonville, before the downfall of the rebellion, it may not be uninteresting to notice the condition of things as they existed in June, 1864. During that month, and in that section it rained no less than twenty-three days and nights without any cessation, or more than half as long as the deluge lasted which drowned a rebellious and wicked world. The whole country was under water, reducing even those in the enjoyment of their liberty to most abject distress, through the destruction of provisions and other property, and the complete breaking up of communications, so that many families were left utterly helpless, and many of their members perished miserably. Our camp had two principal features. Below was a great lake covering the swamp, and the little river being completely merg^-^- in the great body of water into which it poured and lost itself. The high grounds resembled the hills to which during the deluge thousands climbed, and m vain sought safety upon their lofty peaks from the advancing waters 102 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; marcli. In tMs particular, we were many of us more fortunate than they. Those who remained upon the high grounds saved their lives at last as the waters receded, but in so vast a multitude it was not easy to obtain a position in the higher part of the camp. Hun- dreds of our men who were imprudent or ill were picked out of the swamp as the waters fell, miserably drowned, like wild beasts committed to the flood, but lacldng the ability of those to contend with the elements by reason of the brutality of their captors. Indeed, had the storm coniinued a few days longer than it did, every man in the camp must have perished. During aU this time we had no fires, though wood in immense quantities was l3dng at almost a stone's throw from the stockade, and a detail of us were willing to go out and haul it into camp, affording, as it would, means for establishing fires upon the higher grounds, and measurably relieving our dis- tress, caused by cold in a great measure, for the weather was chillingly raw and bleak, notwithstanding the season of the year, caused by the immense amount of water which had fallen, and the dense moisture and fog which continually hung in the atmosphere. But to all our entreaties for fuel the rebels turned deaf ears, evidently being determined to stand the storm, even though it seemed like defying the wrath of the Almighty, and was most likely to deprive them of every prisoner of war they had. During the whole period we were of course compelled by their barbarities to eat our scanty ration of corn meal raw, and it gave us but little strength to resist the ravages of the climate and of disease. Many of us dug holes in the sides of the hills and lived in them, others had little places of shelter constructed of the limbs of trees, while full one-half the OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREjS^CE. 103 camp had no shelter whatever. There were hundreds of carpenters and builders in the camp, who could easily and would readily have built sheds for us all, had the rebels furnished lis with any sort of materials, no matter of how rude a description, but this they persistently refused to do. At last, apparently being worn out by our incessant importunities for shelter, and probably apprehending a serious mutiny from desperate men if the request were longer denied, they compromised mat- ters — a movement which the South always favored, and recommended as the true solution for all impending dif- ficulties and dangers — they erected some cook houses outside of the stockade and a bakery, cooked our rations for us, each man receiving one fourth of a loaf of corn- bread to serve him twenty-four hours, together with an inflnitessimal piece of meat, and two gills of cow beans. The hospital was also moved out of camp. This institu- tion then consisted of a few old army tents, now rotten, and affording almost no protection against a storm. We were left in our desperate situation inside the camp, rendered, it is true, a shade less deplorable by receiving a little better food, but yet seeming almost hopeless. On one occasion, I saw the guard bring into the camp our loaves of bread conveyed in a wagon, into which, on returning, they threw the dead body of a soldier on whom foul insects were already feeding and literally covering, and then drag him forth to burial. A horrible feature of the Andersonville prison was the fact that no sooner was a man dead than he was almost invariably stripped of his clothing by his surviv- ing comrades ; so great was the destitution and misery in this respect, that the men forgot the commonest loves of friendship, and left a dead comrade lying naked on 104 SOUTHEKN PEISONS ; the field for the sake of obtaining the miserable rags, which hardly concealed his nakedness before his death. To see these naked dead men going thus from the dead house to the grave-yard was, however, an awful sight for every Union prisoner who still retained any tithe of his manhood, and called up bitter feelings of revenge against our oppressors who were, of course, the prime causes of all. By this time men were dying off like sheep with the rot, and, as there was no longer entertained any hope of exchange until the Rebellion should be crushed, the prospects of all confined at Andersonville were of the most appalling kind. In fact things were in such a desperate situation that my thoughts began again to revert to some plan of escape, notwithstanding the fruitlessness of the last attempt, and the sufierings endured in it in vain. Miss Seymour, too, had induced me to believe on the occasion of her parting from me at Atlanta that she would see me again, and haunting thoughts of her sweet face and win- ning manner again filled my brain. Might I but through my prison once a day- Behold this maid : all corners else o' the earth Let liberty make use of; space enough Have I, in such a prison. Shakspeare^s Tempest. I could not cease wondering whether she was still at Macon, and how long it would be before she would come to Andersonville, and make some effort for my release, for so I construed her parting words, and I was certain that with her powerful assistance on the outside of the hated camp, and my desperate determination to escape, I would not be long in Andersonville after I had once OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 105 seen her, even thongh the attempt should cost me my life. I was sanguine, however, that it would not. Despite all I had undergone, I had not yet, unlike so many of my unfortunate companions, lost all my natu- ral strength of body, agility of limb, or resolution and nerve when in critical emergencies, and the thought of Miss Seymour acted upon me like the fine wine of Maderia, infusing vitality, vigor, and determination into my whole system. 14 106 SOUTHERN PRISONS :. CHAPTER XI. THE ESCAPE AND RECAPTURE. The Southern Swamps. — The Runaway Slaves. — Their home in the Swamps. — Pursued by Bloodhounds. — Increased Brutality by Wirtz. — The Torture Racks. — Shooting of the Prisoners. What say you now ? What comfort have we now .'' By Heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly. That bids me be of comfort any more. Shakapeare. After many weary days of watching, however, and seeing that Miss Seymour did not make her appearance, and fearing lest some misfortune should have occurred, preventing her from visiting Andersonville and endea- voring by her influence to secure mj^ release, and, as the thought that any evil might have befallen her goaded me almost to madness, I determined to make my escape at once, if possible, and this time push right for Macon, where I hoped I might find her living yet. I at once sought Hoffman to confide to him the plan of getting away, which I this time quickl}^ matured, and consulted him in reference to it, and as to whether he was read}^ to tbin in the attempt. The plan was the following : The men who were now guarding us were levies who had never seen any actual service, as the experienced sol- diers had now to a man been drafted to the front to resist Grant, but were what was known during the war as ' ' Home Gruards. ' ' They had an especial love for any OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 107 little piece of money or any trinkets they could possi- bly obtain from a Yankee, even worshipping the gilt buttons on his coat, they themselves being uniformly clad in the homeliest and plainest of home-made gar- ments, without decoration of any kind. A few of these buttons would often purchase from soldiers who had just been paid off in Confederate money all the way from a peck to a bushel of trash, which was yet ofien useful as has been seen in reciting the history of our former escapes. I made arrangements with one of these guards to take Hoffman and myself out to get some wood, a thing which they were much in the habit of doing, especially when paid a little something for it, as they were moderately opposed to taking any trouble to get wood into the camp for the use of the prisoners, when they CO aid possibly make the latter bring it themselves. Hoffman had determined to try the chance of escape with, me and we started for the prison gate at the time appointed, where we found the guard awaiting us, he having obtained permission from the officer in charge to take the two Yankees out after wood, he to be held responsible for their safe return to camp. We walked along for some distance with the utmost cordiality and freedom, the guard evidently suspecting nothing wrong, although carrying his musket, as they habitually did. This friendly intercourse continued in the most harmo- nious manner until we had reached a safe place, a deep part of the woods, to be totally unheard and un- seen by any one, particularly by those at the camj). There becoming particularly friendly with the guard, I seized his gun and Hoffman caught him by the throat. He was hurled to the ground, and after a slight struggle 108 SOUTHERN PEISONS ; I obtained possession of the gun, his cartridge box and his jacket, and we made him completely our prisoner. Of course it would not have done to allow him to go directly back to camp and acquaint the officers there with what had happened to him. In that event we might better never have escaped at all ; so we marched him along with us, threatening to shoot him dead in his tracks if he uttered a word above a whisper. He was dreadfully frightened, having had no conception when he brought us out of the prison that we would have the hardihood to attempt to escape, and gave us no trouble or cause at all for putting our threat into execution. Before the next morning broke we had traveled some twenty miles, the unfortunate guard expressing the most intense fatigue and entreating us to release him, making all kinds of promises, which we regarded with equal distrust. At last about morning he was really taken seriously ill from the fatigue he had been compelled to undergo, and having no such hopes as buoyed us up in our attempt to escape, seemed utterly unable to go further, only standing even when supported by both of us. At first we were driven to the thought of shooting him to provide for the safety of our own lives, but our better judgment and conscience prevailed, and we deter- mined to spare his life, being somewhat influenced to this conclusion by the fact that we knew our lives would both pay the forfeit of his, if his death and the authors of it became known and we were subsequently retaken. We took him to a farm house by the road side where there was luckily no man near, told them that he was ill and needed assistance, (he having faithfully promised that if we would spare his life he would not betray our OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 109 real characters,) and continued our journey. Before we left this place, however, we obtained a good supply of rations, and we shaped our course from thence towards the Flinch riv^, which we learned was distant about 14 miles. We reached it just as the shades of the evening were closing in, and after wandering some distance up and down the river, found a boat and oars which we seized and paddled and floated down the river about eight miles. Then taking to the land on the other bank we pushed forward through wood mainly for four or five miles, when our progress was arrested by the appear- ance of a large swamp, that curse of our traveling on foot in the South, and which was always dreaded by the escaping prisoner, though if he desired simply refuge from a pursuing enemy, he welcomed its appearance with joy as he plunged into its deep recesses and hid secure from the enemy. We had no recourse save to plunge through it and attempt to cross, as I have observed before, it being dangerous to attempt a detour round them, as it is utter- ly impossible to estimate how vast any one might be or how much time it might consume to execute a flank movement round it. It was only with the utmost labor and suflfering that we made any progress through the swamp, often being up to our waists in water, and morning found us still involved in its meshes. Almost despairing of ever em- erging from it by pursuing the direction in which we had thus far been traveling, we changed our course and bore east, and after a desperate tramp night at last found us again walking upon dry land. After partaking of a hearty meal which the fatigues of our long march rendered peculiarly palatable, we 110 SOUTHERN PRISONS* sougM shelter for the night in a thick clump of woods, and both lay down to sleep in an old hollow log, when despite our terrible fatigues and the cold of the night, [and here it must be remembered that the nights in the South are almost always cold, even in summer months, and that this is especially true of those localities which we were then traversing — the low lands and swamps of the Carolinas — covered with a deep jungle and dense woods, which shut out perpetually the heat and light of the sun and are often soaked with water,] we slept soundly, and the rest did us good, even though we woke with stiffened limbs in the morning. The swamps of the South, at this period, not only harbored more refugees than ever before, but a number that to those who were not compelled to explore them, as I was in my repeated attempts to escape, would have seemed marvelous. They were filled with both negroes and Union prisoners, and many a Southern deserter harbored within their recesses. It is well known that there are islands lying within the densest parts of them, almost unknown to the world generally in respect of their particular locations, and haunted only by runaway and desperate negroes, mingled with whom were a few lawless poor whites, during the old prosperous days of slavery. Even then, when it was of vital interest to the masters to preserve their so-called property, and no gigantic civil war divorced their attention from the care of their estates, runaway slaves lived on these islands in the great swamps for years unmolested, and in time strong bands were formed who maintained their subsist- ence by carrying off from planters and slaves whatever they needed, at dead of night, and then withdrew in security to their fastnesses. OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. Ill During the war not only did the number of runaway negroes greatly increase throughout the swamps, but they were joined by hundreds of Union prisoners and Rebel deserters, and all made common cause against the common and recognized enemy. They ultimately be- came a terror to all classes, the negroes often preferring this lawless, predatory life to the chances of an escape to the North, which were frequently furnished them, and the Confederate deserters recognizing the fact that they had neither friends at the North or South to fly to, in the former case rushing into the arms of a declared enemy, and in the latter goingj^to almost certain death, either by being shot for desertion or by the Yankees, in the ranks where they would, in the latter event, at once be placed ; the deserters we say, stayed in the swamps with theii' Aewly made negro friends, and were as law- less and desperate as any members of the gang could possibly be. Many of them, too, would have preferred just such a desperate, reckless life, to any involving honest industry and peaceful occupations, and gladly took it up without being influenced by the pressing cir- cumstances in question. They came from a degraded and brutalized stock, which for years had been upon a par with the slaves, if not their inferiors, and were fit mates for these runaways in the swamps. Often have I met these characters, but never sufi'ered hai-m from them, probably for two reasons ; first, I was a Union prisoner escaping, and he was the last man the blacks could ordinarily injure, and partly because I never carried with me anything to excite in any degree their cupidity, which oftentimes seems to completely dethrone the rea- son of men of low passions and thoughts, and causes them in a moment of positive madness to commit somtj 112 soiJTHEEN PRisoisrs ; crime for which their lives pay the forfeit. Nevertheless they were not pleasant individuals to meet in a lonely swamp, and I eventually avoided them whenever pos- sible. On rising from our cold couches we pushed forward, after a good breakfast, though not exhibiting much variety, upon our journey. We had determined to travel through the unfrequented country we were now in in the day time, keeping close in the woods whenever profitable, in order to accelerate our progress, which, when we walked only at night, was necessarily exceed- ingly slow, tedious, and ^productive of great strain upon the system. When we should reach the more open and thickly settled districts of Georgia we proposed to lie by in the day and push on at night alone. But the same circumstances which had undone us before, proved the ruin of our hopes on this occasion. We had only made three or four miles of the day's journey, when we were terrified to hear the barking of dogs on our track. We knew instantly that they were the accursed bloodhounds, and no doubt were accompanied by men who were in hot pursuit of us. No stream was near which we could cross, the means of safety when pursued by bloodhounds, and as they approached nearer and finally sprang in sight there remained little time for us to consume in considering on our course. There was no resource except for each of us to take to a tree, and await developments, which we accordingly did, just in time to save ourselves from being torn to pieces by the ravenous creatures. True, I could have shot one with the gun I had seized from the guard, but ere I could have reloaded the remainder of the pack would have drunk my life' s blood. As soon OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIlSrE OF FLORENCE. 113 ds we were rested in the trees, out of immediate harm' s way, the masters of the hounds appeared round a turn in the road. They were only two, but both were well mounted and armed, and clearly a complete overmatch for our little garrison. They rode up to the trees, at the foot of which the dogs were baying, and demanded our surrender, saying that we were their prisoners, they also requested that we come immediately down out of the trees, or they would suddenly find means to bring us down, at the same time putting their hands upon theu' guns in a very ominous manner. Resistance was hopeless, so we came down, as required, and surrendered ourselves. The disappointment was bitterly severe after the hardships we had undergone, and the fond hopes we had just began to cherish of getting through to Macon in safety. We were, too, not unmindful of the ferocious temper of a certain Captain Wirtz, who might very pos- sibly order us to be shot like dogs on our return. But lamentations were unavailing, and we were marched back to Andersonville, when we were at once recognized by Captain Wirtz, who looked more ghastly and grieved than ever before, and who instantaneously picked me out as the individual who had worn the ball and chain. At first he raved about like a madman, threatening alter- nately to shoot and hang us for carrying off* his sentry, he having evidently learned all froai the latter. He was as deeply enraged at the guard for allowing himself to be thus deceived, and warned him that a repetition of such an offence might probably imperil his own life, which the guard seemed fully to appreciate. He finally contented himself with putting us into the stocks, which, being little known at the North, it may be well to describe. 15 114 SOUTHERN prisons; The stocks, as invented and used by tlie Rebels, were entirely different from those of early English days, when they were first invented. The latter consisted of a seat of wood for the culprit to sit upon, and a bar of wood in which several circular holes had been made, through which the feet of the culprit were thrust and fastened. To be set in the stocks was always considered a dis- graceful affair, as they were invariably set up in the public market, or some other equally public place, and the victim was hooted and hissed by the mob, and espe- cially by the children, who visited the stocks as a regular place of youthful amusement. In a picture by William Hogarth, the stocks are admirably represented, and the dress, customs and peculiarities of the early English times, excellently set forth. The last instance of any one being set in the stocks in England was in the latter part of the last century. The person condemned to this punishment, however, in England, suffered no positive pain, except such as resulted from sitting in one position for a considerable length of time, and the numbness which was certain to ensue. The Rebels showed, how- ever, that in the nineteenth century, they were more barbarous than their English ancestors of a hundred years ago. The stocks invented by them were infinitely more painful and cruel. The Rebels laid the victim flat upon his back, then raised his arms above his head, stretching them as far as they possibly could, without pulling them out of the sockets, and fastened them in holes made in a bar. Then his legs were similarly stretched, and fas- tened in a corresponding bar. In this position he was usually condemned to remain for twenty-four hours, and the torture after a few minutes of this stretchinjg: OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 115 process became almost unbearable. This operation they repeated upon us tliree times in succession, each time causing us most intense agony, and very nearly pro- ducing fatal results on the last occasion, our vital powers being so exhausted that we could not stand at all for hours, and both feeling certain that at last we were destined to perish through the unmitigated bar- barity of our captors. After lying on the ground, how- ever, for some time, we gradually recovered from our exhaustion sufficiently to move about, and the old routine of prison life recommenced. The most inhuman brutalities began, about this time, to be commenced by orders of Captain Wirtz, either through his own malignity or the instructions of his superiors. I have already described, somewhat, Wirtz' s appearance as being pale and ghastly in the extreme. He was a Prussian by birth, and professed some expe- rience in the routine of military duty, having served for several years in some subordinate capacity in the Prus- sian army. He lacked, however, that marked ability which leads men to positions of power and high respon- sibility, and thus remained in subordinate places in the Confederate army, as he had done at home. He was, too, a man eminently fitted for doing the mean, dirty work of those higher in rank, no matter how cruel or to what results that work might lead. And so it chanced that he had been placed under the charge of General Winder, who had the general control of all prisoners, and was in command at Andersonville. His manners to superiors were extremely subservient, even cringing, while to those under his authority they were invariably brutal and overbearing. It seemed, however, as though a shadow of the fearful doom which was to overtake 116 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; him haunted him even thus early. He continually grew paler and more ghastly, and his eyes had often a look of anxiety and sometimes even terror in them, which was then a sense of wonder to us, but which his conscience must have prompted, and his subsequent acts fully justified. When, as though in despair of ever changing his character or habits of brutality, he would expend all his devilish ingenuity in devising means for our torture. At last he commenced to give the sentinels rigid instructions concerning the enforce- ment of the regulations in reference to the dead line, and forthwith a series of brutal murders disgraced the camp and its commander. No prisoner was liable to be shot unless he clearly and purposely crossed the dead line, by the regulations. But Wirtz instructed the guards to watch them closely, and if they entertained any doubt as to whether a man was upon or about to cross the line to shoot him down. So, if a soldier walking past it chanced to stumble against it, or in any accidental way approach too near it, he was fired upon and generally killed, and every day were witnessed numbers of our men literally murdered ia this way. OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 117 CHAPTER XII. THE DEAD HOUSE. A Rebel Sees a Ghost. — Capture of the 17th Michigan Regiment.—- Sad News from Home. — Plan of Escape. — I am Carried to the Dead House. — Wirtz Again. — The Prison Raiders. — Execution of the Leaders. — Organization of 1,000 Police. I beseech you Wrest once the law to your authority ; To do a great right, do a little wrong. Shakspeare. After a few days rest and partial recovery from the suffering which I had undergone, my thoughts again commenced to reflect on some project by which I might gain my liberty. After much agitation I hit upon one which seemed likely to succeed, but the execution of it would necessitate my leaving Hoffman behind, a course which I deeply regretted and long hesitated in taking. I could, however, at that time devise only this one scheme, and besides Hoffman was not well, and from his old wound at Belle Island and the subsequent brutal treatment which he had received at the hands of the Rebels, was unfit to sustain the fatigues of a long and perilous journey at this time. I therefore determined to carry out my plan, and with that view in the early morning I was found lying upon the ground to all ap- pearance dead, a disguise in which I was greatly aided by my cadaverous, pale and worn out appearance. A» the finding men lying dead upon the ground was an 118 -S^UTBEBN PRISONS ; every morning' s incident, and I had no special friends save Hoffman and the two stretcher-bearers who had arranged to carry me out, to whom I had communicated my plans, no particular regard was paid to me, but I was lifted on to a stretcher by the two bearers agreed upon and carried to the dead house, which was just outside of the stockade. The Rebels were inhnitely more careless and reckless concerning the dead prisoners than were the prisoners concerning each other, and con- sequently as soon as I was carried out to the dead house they at once dumped me down among the dead bodies and paid no further attention to me. I intended to remain quiet until darkness set in, as I knew that the bodies would not be removed for burial until the next morning, and then make good my escape. It chanced, however, that as I was being carried through the gate on the stretcher, one of the Rebel guards happened to spy upon my feet a pair of good shoes, an article of which he was himself just then sorely in need. No doubt he inwardly determined to rob the body of them at the very first opportunity. During the hours that I re- mained in the dead house, as they slowly drew along, I kept my eyes closed almost all the time lest some one might enter suddenly, knowing that the Rebels had a dis- gusting habit of going to where the dead prisoners lay, looking at them with malignant triumph, making insult- ing remarks concerning those who were far beyond the reach of their cruelty and scorn, and even spurning the bodies with their feet. Just before darkness came on, and when I expected soon to be at liberty, I heard some one enter, but sup- posing it to be some Rebel who had come to stare at the dead as usual, I kept my eyes fast closed and stirred not. OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 119 hoping that, as he seemed alone, he would soon retire and leave me at liberty to carry out my plans. Suddenly I felt him working at my shoes, as if trying to take them ofL Being rather alarmed myself at what he might subsequently do if he succeeded in this, I determined to take a sly look at the would-be shoe-thief. As I opened my eyes, however, he chanced to look up and meet my gaze fixed upon him. The shock communicated to him was like that produced by the concussion of a powerful electric battery. He reeled backward, gave one unearth- ly yell and tore out of the door as if possessed with a devil. Before I had time to determine what course to take under these embarrassing circumstances the horri- fied Rebel had got together a strong file of soldiers and returned to the dead house, determined to investigate the matter and ascertain whether a ghost or a man had taken possession of the establishment. Their suspicions being fully roused, they very soon detected the imposi- tion sought to be practiced upon them, and gobbling me ^^p with very little ceremony, though with deep dis- gust expressed in their countenances at having been overreached thus far, they marched me back to the camp and lodged me in the guard house. After the officer had made his report, I was then taken before Captain Wirtz, and this time he seemed quite aghast at my presumption, and utterly at a loss how to deal with a prisoner who bid defiance to all restraints and punishments, and seemed determined to escape from Andersonville stronghold at all hazards. After deep reflection as to what he could do with me equal to the occasion, he ordered a sixty pound ball and chain riveted on my leg, sent me back to the guard ouse in charge of a guard, and fed me on bread and 120 SOUTHERN PEisoisrs ; water, stating also that this would be my punishment until I would solemnly promise him that I would never attempt to escape again. Three days elapsed in this way, but I would give him no such promise,' and being wearied out by my obstinacy and the trouble he had already had with me, he told me that if I would give him my parole of honor that I would not leave the vicinity, he would keep me on the outside of the camp all the time, and I should enjoy comparative liberty. This I would willingly have done had I not wished to see Hoffman, who was in camp alone. I therefore refused to do so at the time, and Wirtz, becoming highly exasperated, sent me back into prison, the very result I had hoped for, threatening, however, to shoot or hang me if I attempted to get away again. A few days after my failure to escape, there arrived at Andersonville about four hundred more prisoners, taken from the army of the Rapidan, then under Gen Grant, at the battle of Spottsylvania, C. H. Among them were eighty officers and men of my regiment, the 17th. At the time that battle was fought the regiment numbered only about one hundred officers and men, so much had it been reduced by losses in battle, disease and the other fatalities which soldiers continually meet in the progress of a campaign. I was the only one living out of the eighteen who had been taken in East Tennessee belonging to that regiment, a sad commentary on the hardships and sufferings which had been inflicted upon us. The meeting my old friends was an occasion in which joy and grief were mingled in about equal pro- portions ; joy at seeing familiar faces and learning news that I could rely upon concerning the movements of the army, and from my distant home in Detroit ; grief at the OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIISrE OF FLORENCE. 121 mournful tale I had to relate of the miseries and sad ends of my former companions and the sad picture I was compelled to lay before these newly found friends. The arrival of the men brought, however, to me an almost fatal affliction, the news of the death of my mother, whom I loved better than all else in the world, and whose last words, I learned, were of her son. I was almost stunned by the shock, more especially when I reHected that my being a prisoner in the hands of the accursed Rebels had probably hastened her death. For a time I -was completely crushed by this calamity, but after a long interval greater serenity of mind returned, and I bore the affliction with as much resignation as was possible, knowing that she was happy with her God, and trusting that from the spirit land she might look down upon me, know that I still lived, and watch over and guide me. July 11th was one of the most exciting and darkest in the history of Andersonville. The men had become desperate through long, suffering and manifested such a state of insubordination as not only astonished them- selves, but alarmed and amazed the Eebels. Hitherto we had been guarded by only one stockade ; now they went hastily to work and constructed three more, encircling the one already built, and as additional pre- cautions they erected four larger forts just outside of the outer stockade, in which they placed small garrisons and a number of cannon, so as to resist any desperate attempts which we might make to rush out at all hazards. They also sent to Atlanta for assistance, and the dangerous condition of affairs at Andersonville being represented, another regiment was sent from there to 16 122 SOUTHEET^ PKISOI^S; their aid, thus taking away almost every possibility of our breaking out and escaping in a body. A scene of indescribable horror and confusion com- menced to reign within the prison and among the prisoners themselves. Desperate at their situation and hopeless of relief, they commenced quarreling among themselves, and the outrages which soon transpired sur- passed in terror any scenes that had yet been witnessed in the prison in its darkest days. It even finally went so far that regular bands were formed among the prisoners, led on by desperate men, for the purpose of assailing with violence other Union men in confinement, and plundering them of what few necessaries they had upon them. Nor were these des- peradoes at all chary of taking human life. On the slightest resistance the victim was knocked on the head, and often killed by a single blow or two from a heavy club, or stabbed to death with a knife. The instant the person attacked was stunned, everything of any utility to the robbers was stripped off him. If he chanced to have on a good suit of clothes throughout, he was com- pletely denuded, and not unfi-equently left lying stark naked upon the ground. These organizations soon increased until they num- bered in the aggregate fully eight hundred members, and had become a terror to all the other prisoners in the camp. It became evident that unless some rigorous measures were taken to break up these bands of " Raid- ers," as they were called, the whole camp would soon be at their mercy, and they would saciifice the property and even lives of their comrades at their will. A strong police force was accordingly organized, numbering within a few days not fewer than a thousand OB, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOKENCE. 123 men, each carrying a rude but effective club, which, wonderful to relate, we had obtained through the con- sent and assistance of the Rebels. The secret of their willingness, however, probably was that they had grown so apprehensive themselves of what might some day happen from these desperate characters, that they were glad to see them crushed out, even by their Yankee associates. It was determined that the ringleaders of the robber gang should be arrested and dealt with, and it was hoped and believed that this action would so intimidate the others that they would cause us no further trouble. Accordingly, late in the evening the police in various quarters of the camp, going in strong bodies, succeeded in arresting most of those for whom they were in search, but only after a desperate struggle, in which several men were killed and a large number badly beaten and cut with knives, so that several of them died afterwards. After arresting these leaders, six in number, they were tried by a court-martial appointed by the prisoners, and a verdict of guilty of murder and robbery was rendered, after which they were sentenced by the court to be hung forthwith by the neck until dead. A large scaffold was erected on the south side of the camp, and with a great crowd in attendance, the prison- ers were, the next afternoon after their arrest, hanged. The whole affair naturally created much commotion, but the prisoners justified our action, and it struck such terror into the hearts of their confederates, that they abandoned the gangs at once, which thus ceased to exist. One of the men so executed was named Curtis, he being the principle leader of all the gangs ; another was called Mosby, while the names of the rest I was 124 SOUTHEEN PKisoisrs ; never able to ascertain with any certainty, as on being arraigned for trial, they undoubtedly gave fictitious names. The police force, thus constituted, was main- tained, notwithstanding the overthrow of the robbers, that we might have peace and quiet in future, and that result, so far as any acts of our own men were con- cerned, was effected. OR. JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 125 CHAPTER XIII. THE DEATH OF HOFFMAN. Tunnels dug by the Prisoners. — A successful Escape. The soul, too soft its ills to bear, Has left our mortal hemisphere, And sought, in better world, the meed To blameless life by heaven decreed, ScoWs Rokeby. A favorite scheme among the prisoners was to escape through digging tunnels; that is, at some quiet place away from the guards, dig into the earth, carry the ex- cavation under the stockade, and come out in the night beyond the last. I suppose my friend Hoffman and myself dug more tunnels, or assisted in digging more, than any other two men in prison in the Confederate States. Yet for some reason or other, these tunneling projects hardly ever proved successful, either in my own experience or in that of others, whose attempts I heard of then, or afterwards learned of. The mode in which this tunneling was done was this : Of course all work upon them, as a rule, had to be done at night, to avoid the watchfulness of the guards, who were always prowling and spying about when least wanted. First, the earth was removed to a depth of four or five feet below the surface, and then the tunnel was turned in the direction in which we wished it to run, 126 souTHEKN prisons; gradually working down deeper into the eartli, tiU ^ depth of eight or ten feet below the surface had beer* attained. Work was continued upon the tunnel, which was made just large enough for a man to crawl through without difficulty, until morning was tpar, and then we ceased operations for the day. A flooring- of boards was placed over the mouth of the tunnel, being adjusted into the sides a little below the surface, and the dirt was heaped and trampled down until it was on a level with, and resembled perfectly the floor of the tent or the ground, wherever it might be. The reader will naturally wonder what disposition we made of our dirt. The swamp water having been found very unhealthy for drinking purposes, much of the lime standing very low after the great rains subsided, and the effects of these began to disappear, as they quickly did during the hot season which followed, and the moisture in the swamps being more rapidly absorbed through the porous lands underneath them, than where the water covered hard bottoms, it was found by the prisoners that by digging wells in camp, they could secure for themselves far better water for drinking. Accordingly, the Rebels furnished us with shovels, always remem- bering, however, to carry them away again at night. By degrees, however, we managed to steal two or three of these shovels for our mess, by telling our captors most positively at night, when they came to demand them, that they had not given us as many by two or three, as they declared they had, and now wanted re- turned. Usually a violent dispute arose concerning the matter, but, we having placed them by that time far beyond the reach of the Rebels, unless a thorough search were instituted throughoy.t the whole camp, they were OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCik 127 forced to put up with our denial, swearing that those were the last shovels we would get for digging wells or for any other purpose. They usually, too, did not report the matter when it could possibly be avoided, to their superiors, knowing that blame would fall on them, and prefering to avoid an interview with C«?Totain Wirtz as long as possible. Inasmuch as we were iiow in the pos- session of some shovels ourselves, we cared little whether others were furnished us or not. During the day we dug on the wells, and carried the dirt to the swamp, into which we threw it. Then during the night we worked at the tunnel, and threw the dirt either into our well, or into that of somebody else. Often in the morning great commotion would be noticeable among a mess whose well had nearly been filled up by a sqaad not far away, who were digging a tunnel. The well party would curse and swear and rare about their quarters, execrating the unknown parties who had compelled them to dig their well out again, but as they were pretty sure it had been done because that party was tunneling, and they very likely were busy in the same way, they never made com- plaints to the Rebels, but with many dire curses went to work and cleaned it out, taking the precaution for some nights following, to have one of their mess stand guard over it. Those occasions when we were wont to fill up the wells dug by other parties, were when we had done an unusually heavy night' s work on the tunnel, and had taken out so much du't, that to throw it all into our own well would nearly have filled it up, and might have excited suspicion among the Rebels if they had exam- ined it during the next day. In the process of digging these tunnels, however, many vexations and delays were experienced, some dan- 128 SOUTHERN prisons; gers and inmimerable hindrances and disappointments. Of course, in digging a small tunnel like one such as we dug, it was not supposed necessary to support the roof by props, as is always done when constructing a tunnel of any dimensions. To do this, probably, would have been a very slow operation, and we should have found it very difficult to procure the adequate means. Any attempt to do so would too, in all probability, have created suspicion, and frustrated all our plans. Where the soil was solid and good there was no use of these props, but when we suddenly sometimes struck sand or broken soil, down came the whole institution for several feet, and the diggers might narrowly escape being hur- ried alive. Then most arduous labor and some propping, or else diversion of the course of the tunnel was rendered necessary, and frequently three or four nights labor re- quired. Tunneling, too, so great a distance as we had to, in order to pass the camp ground and al' , the stock- ades, was a work that required long time and infinite patience, and many who commenced similar undertak- ings, gave them up in disgust before one-tenth of the labor had been done. Yet at the time of which I write, not fewer than one hundred to two hundred were in course of construction. Another plan of escape was devised by us, in which a Rebel sergeant was to play a conspicuous part. It was arranged by several of the prisoners with one of the sergeants on guard outside the prison, that he and the prisoners engaged in the scheme should, on a given day, make their exit together, and all push for the Union lines. The plan could not be carried out without the pretty manifest co-operation of the sergeant, and he therefore determined to be oflT too, as his position would OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 129 no longer be an enviable one at the South, especially with Captain Wirtz, whose temper was fast getting worse. The guard had engaged to furnish to each man of the Yankee squad a gun and sixty rounds of ammunition. Hoffman and myself were at an early day informed of the plan, and made haste to be enrolled among those contemplating the undertaking. Everything was pre- pared for the start, the day being fixed, and all promis- ing fairly, when I began to be alarmed concerning the state of Hoffman's health. A careful examination of him, and the advice of the Rebel surgeons, revealed the sorrowful fact that his constitution was irretrievably ruined, and that he had but a few more days in which to dwell on this earth. ft At the day appointed the arrangements for getting out were continued, but by that time Hoffman was at the point of death. I watched by him in the evening. He knew that he was dying and implored me to go with the rest and leave him to that fate which was soon cer- tain. I saw that the chances of escape were this time excellent, and must confess that I regretted Hoffman's illness bitterly on more than one account, yet I deter- mined, after turning the matter over in my mind, that it would be the part of a coward to leave him to die alone, after the intimate friendship which had subsisted between us, and I concluded to forego my own interests and wait and watch until the agel of death should call him. It turned out that I had not over-estimated the prospects of a successful issue of this attempt at escape, as the whole party, led by the Rebel sergeant, succeded in gaining the Union lines in safety. A strong pack of bloodhounds and a squad of well-armed men were dis- patched in pursuit of them as soon as their escape was 130 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; discoved, but their expedition was attended witli very disastrous results. About twenty miles beyond Ander- sonville, and on a Northern route, they came up with the fleeing prisoners and their Rebel guide, on the Flinch River, and making an assault upon them and an attempt to capture them, were completely driven off", all of the dogs but two being killed, one man killed and three of ihem badly wounded. The news of this suc- cessful attempt when communicated to us caused some despondency both on my own part and that of many of my comrades, yet I did not at heart regret that I had remained to cheer the departure of Hoffman from this world, as he and myself had become most intimate and dear friends. I know that I did by him as I would have wished to be done by, "and no episode of my prison life affords me more true pleasure than the kind attention which during the last few days of his earthly career I was able to show to Hoffman. He died on the third day after I had noticed the change in him, after suffering greatly, but I honestly believe glad to die. He had never received proper care since he was wounded in our attempted escape at Belle Island, and the sufferings and hardships which he subsequently underwent, slowly but surely undermined his constitution, and brought to a fatal termination an injury which with the least care and opportunity for healing, would have been slight, the natural and ordinary result of Rebel brutality. Gangrene set in after his wound had run for some time, and large sores broke out all over his body. He was somewhat affected with the scurvy also, and was so reduced by starvation that he was but a collection of skin and bones, so that, when dead, he presented a most horrib/Je appearance. OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREISTCE. ISl Thus perished in his prime one who, under happier circumstances and influences, would undoubtedly have lived an ornament to society, a man of business integrity and honor, and one who would have been dearly loved and cherished among a large circle of friends. Some time previous to his death the thought of dying seemed almost intolerable to him, as he knew that he was then just in the blossom of youth, and that had he not fallen into the hands of the Eebels, he would have been des- tined to a useful and honorable life. But so great were his sufferings, and so utter became his loneliness as death approached, that at last, as I stated before, he was glad to quit this scene of anxiety and misery and go home to that God in whose bosom he was certain to find rest and peace. His death called to my mind the beautiful words of Washington Irving : "There is a remembrance of the dead to which we turn even from the charms of the living : Oh, the grave ! the grave ! it' buries every terror ; covers every defect ; extinguishes every resentment." 132 BOXJTHEEN PRISONS ; CHAPTEK XIV. BURYING THE DEAD An Attack of the Scurvy. — Hideous modes of Interment. — Terrible violence of Wirtz. — The heroic conduct of a Catholic Priest. I feel Of this dull sickness at my heart afraid. wmu At this time, to add to all my other troubles, I was attacked by the scurvy. Previously I had succeeded in avoiding it, although many of our men had been sick with it, and now, when it came, it was the more unex- pected and unwelcome. It first appeared in my mouth, and before I could obtain a remedy, or any vegetables with which to cure it, I thought I was destined to lose all my teeth. Indeed, had it not been for the fact that I had stiU some money left, I should certainly have died. By the use of this, however, I obtained a few Irish pota toes, which are a sure cure for the scurvy, and in a few days I experienced a marked change, and in a week was entirely well. There still seemed to be no talk about exchange, and it began generally to be believed that there would be none until the war closed by declaring for victory on one side or the other. It now began, however, to be pretty; certain that at no distant day victory would be pro^ claimed for the Union army, aud we consequently OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 133 waited tlie progress of events with more hope than at any time hitherto. Had the South obtained its inde- pendence, indeed, I am not certain that any single pris- oner would ever have seen his home again. Such was their barbarity that the reduction to slavery of all the prisoners in their hands would not have been a measure at all unlikely in their madness and triumph. During the months of July and August the Rebels experienced no little trouble in obtaining enough well prisoners to bury the dead properly, and as they under- stood that office, this duty was always devolved on pris- oners, as the work was intensely painful and laborious under the hot Southern sun, and many a Union soldier lost his life in it. The Rebels would not allow negroes to be detailed for that purpose, as they could use them to better advantage in other ways, and even if they lost a hundred or two prisoners, it was only so many takeai away from their side in the event of an exchange. This last had now grown so doubtful that it was hardly worth regulating their future course by it, and no doubt Wirtz, and others still higher in station, thought that all they could get out of the prisoners was j list so much gained, even though it cost the lives of most of them, especially now when they began to be so hard pressed for men at the front, that they actually put negroes into the trenches, and in rare instances went so far as to arm them with muskets. One warm morning, as I was standing by the prison gate, wearily lounging away the time, there being no other resource for passing it just then, Captain Wirtz approached and accosted me, asking if I would not like to come outside on parole of honor and dig graves, as that would be a material change fi-om the dreary monot- 134 SOUTHERN PEISONS ; ony of my life in camp. Seeing no chance of immediate escape, I agreed to liis proposition, to hold good for a time, but at the same time I told him I was not very strong, and I feared I could not sustain the labor and hardship of a grave digger, for any great period, though I would do my best as long as my strength sustained me. He said I need do only what my present strength allowed, and I thereupon agreed to commence work next morning. It was new work for me, and under that almost trop- ical sun, so hard, that I many times thought during that day, that I should break down completely, and not be able to hold out for even the first day what I had under- taken; but working along moderately, thus getting light exercise and breathing in the purer air to be found out- side the camp, and enjoying much more substantial fare than I had for a long time been accustomed to, I gradu- ally regained my strength, and soon felt more like my old self than at any time during the later period of my imprisonment. There were about forty of us at this work of digging graves, and we often were compelled to toil until ten or eleven o'clock at night, in order to be able to bury all the dead who would be brought from the dead house in the coming morning. Occasionally we buried in one morning not less than two hundred men, but these were exceptional cases, and the average number of burials was about sixty per day, out of a population probably not exceeding twenty thousand at this time. Our mode of digging the graves was very simple and is easily explained. We dug large trenches, about four feet deep and six feet wide, long enough to contain about two hundred men, and in one instance we buried OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 135 in one trench four hundred men. After laying the bodies in these trenches, without any coffins, as close together as we could pack them, we covered them up with dirt, and put at the head of each man a stake with a number on it. To such a condition, however, had many of the Union prisoners been reduced by ill feeding, lack of clothing, illness and general neglect of person, that when they died their bodies were actually putrefying when they were conveyed to the dead house, and when brought out twelve or twenty-four hours afterward to be buried, they were such masses of utter corruption, already attacked by maggots and all kinds of unclean things, that they were unfit for any man to handle, and could only be placed in the trenches by the use of pitchforks with which two men would lay hold of a body, dump it into the trench, precisely as one would throw a fork full of manure into a hole on a field of a farm, then throw the other bodies in in a similar way, and quickly shovel dirt in upon all, getting them out of sight and smell as rapidly as possible. While engaged in this very unplea- sant though charitable duty of burying the dead, it often recalled to my memory the following beautiful and truthful lines : Yet tell me, Irighted senses ! what is death ? Blood only stopp'd, and interrupted breath; The utmost limit of a narrow span, And end of motion, which with life began. As smoke that rises from the kindling fires, Is seen this moment, and the next expires ; As empty clouds by rising winds are tost, Their fleeting forms scarce sooner found than lost, So vanishes our state, so pass our days ; 136 SOUTHERN PKISONS ; So life but opens now, and now decays ; The cradle and the tomb, alas ! so nigh, To live is scarce distinguish'd from to die. Priar'a Solomon. As a natural consequence, the prisoners with me became greatly disgusted with this business within a few days after the bodies commenced to be brought to us in this condition, caused by the intense heat which characterized tlie month of August, 1864, and we peti- tioned that we might be relieved from the task, and the negroes might be set about it, as they usually did not seem much to mind being engaged in work of this sort, as it was not usually very hard, and did not compel them to labor very rapidly, both of which circumstances partially suited the cases of most of the negro laborers whom I met at the South. This proposition, however, did not appear to suit the commander of the camp. He declared loudly and pro- fanely that he would not waste the labor of the negroes upon any such unworthy cause, when they could as well be raising corn and hogs for the army , that tli3 surviving prisoners were just the instruments for bury- ing our dead comrades, and when we persisted in our refusal to place the bodies in the graves, and hinted that if too hardly pressed we should be driven to attempt our escape, he placed guards around us with orders to kill the first "God damned Yankee" that made an attempt to get away. He further swore that if we did not do the work and inter the dead properly he would with his own men pile up the dead bodies above the surface until they fell over upon us, (whom he would till keep at our posts,) a mass of rotten, decaying humanity. It was evident the man AVirtz was daily OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOEEN-CE. 137 growing more bitter, morose and dangerous. His being continually retained at Andersonville in this capacity, the failure to promote him, as he thought his arduous and valuable services demanded, and incessant pota- tions of fiery Southern corn whisky, all tended to make him sullen, liable to fierce bursts of passion and likel}' to explode into sudden atrocity when least expected He had for some time been regarded with increased apprehension by the prisoners, and we finally came to the conclusion that our more prudent course was to go to work and bury the dead bodies in preference to being shot or perhaps being buried alive by Wirtz. Accord- ingly we resumed our labors, unwelcome and unplea- sant as they were. The horrors and monotonous misery of the prison at Andersonville were mitigated in some slight measure — so slight that its blessings never reached most of the pris- oners — ^by the constancy, the piety and heroic courage of a Roman Catholic priest, whose name I failed to learn, but which is enrolled before the Creator in letters of living light ; this man visited the prison daily and min- istered to the wants of its wretched occupants, both spir- itual and physical. To the sick and dying he adminis- tered the sacraments of the Church, and comforted their dying hours by reminding them of the heavenly love of Christ, and the glories and joys that awaited the brave and Christian in the world of bliss after the bonds of this, which had given as their part so much misery, had been burst. When he saw men sick and helpless, lying in the horrid swamp, he carried them on his back on to the high ground, and ministered as fully as he could with the scanty means at his command to their suffer- ings and necessities. Among such a host, so many IS 138 SOUTHERN PRiBONS ; thoTisands, what could be expected that one man could do ? Yet he effected much. Many a dying man's soul agony he assuaged. Many sick men he pointed to Christ, and the true way of life, before they died. Many soldiers, enfeebled and almost within the grasp of death, he rescued from the chill embraces of the king of terrors, and they now live to bless with every memory of Ander- sonville, the father who snatched them from death and the grave. Had numbers of these heroic clergymen been permitted to visit Andersonville, much of the misery there might have been mitigated, if not relieved. But the Confederate Grovernment cared neither for the bodies nor souls of their unfortunate victims, and hardly showed more toleration to ministers of Christ, than to national officers sent to inspect the condition of the pris- oners. Let, however, the glory of true, heroic Christian charity be accorded to this nameless Catholic priest. Says Albert D. Richardson, in his work entitled, "The Field, the Dungeon, and the Escape:" "In all Southern prisons I was forced to admire the fidelity with which the Roman Church looks after its members' Priests frequently visited all places of confinement to inquire for Catholics, and minister both to their spir- itual and bodily needs." OE, JOSIE. THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 13& CHAPTER XV. THE MONSTER WIRTZ. His Early life and Character. — The Treatment of Prisoners of War by the Rebels contrasted with the Usages of Civilized Nations, by Augustus Choate Hamlin. — Regulations of the United States. — Ap- peara.ics of Andersonville. — Brutal Order of Brig.-Gen. John H. Winder. Thou shalt behold him stretch'd in all the agonies Of a tormenting and shameful death ! His bleeding bowels and his broken limbs Insulted o'er by a vile butchering villain. Oiway's Venice Preserced. "There are times in the history of men," writes Augustus Choate Hamlin, "when human invectives are without force. There are deeds of which men are no judges, and which mount, without appeal, direct to the tribunal of God." The dispositions of man depend greatly upon the associations of his early life. The youthful and pliant organization is easily impressed by the natural scenes of birthplace and childhood, and the effect of the views of the savage mountain gorges, the dark and gloomy forests ; or the distant landscape smiling in the rays of the sun, and decorated with the most beautiful works of human industry, are felt here- after in the labors and conceptions of manhc^d. Men sometimes are but the living reflections of the savage scenes among which they have been raised, and 140 SOUTHEEIT PRisojsrs ; seldom do we see them arise from tliat immense and world-wide mass of fallen humanity to cherish anew, to maintain the noble principles of this earthly life, and lead the willing world to the true worship of the Creator. Wirtz was born among the glorious mountains of Switzerland, where the lofty and dazzling peaks of eter- nal snow, pointing upwards into the clear vault of hea- ven, impress the human mind with sublimity, or wher^ the deeper glens sadden the heart and blast the aspiring imagination. It seems that the natural impressions made upon this man in this beautiful country were of an earthly and sordid character, for he has always exhibited, in his wanderings in pursuit of fortune, the reckless and de- graded soul of a mercenary. Seeking gain in the new world, he turned up in the Slave States when the revolt was determined upon, and, without reluctance, offered his services to the frantic and savage horde. Although a Swiss and republican by birth and inheritance, he does not hesitate between liberty and despotism. The principles of political dog- mas do not agitate him ; it is the desire for money, and an insatiate desire for blood, blasting the natural heart with cruel and remorseless passions, that lead him blindly and swiftly to ruin. The fatal plunge taken, and there was no return. The compunctions of humanity passed over his seared and unfeeling conscience with no more effect than when the waves surge over the huge rocks which form the bed of the deepest ocean. He was selected for the fatal position by the brutal "Winder, who first observed him among the unfortunate prisoners of the first disastrous battle of the Republic OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORENCE. 141 What should recommend him, then, to the notice of this inhuman officer can be easily conjectured by the sur- vivors of the prisons of that period. Cruelty then was pastime, it afterwards became a law. It was then that some of the chivalry, after the manner of the tribes of Abyssinia and Eastern Africa, made glorious trophies of the skulls and the bones of their antagonists who had fallen in battle. This man appeared at times kind and humane, and his voice had the accents of benevolence ; but when excited, natural sentiments recoiled with horror at the depth and extent of his imprecations. This assumed gentleness of disposition is of but little weight among the examples of history. "I have often said," writes Montaigne, "that cow- ardice is the mother of cruelty, and by experience have observed that the spite and asperity of malicious and inhuman courage are accompanied with the mantle o^ feminine softness." ?he ensanguined Sylla wept over the recital of tbp miseries he himself had caused. That daily murderer, the tyrant of Pheres, forbade :he play of tragedy, lest the citizens should weep over the misfortunes of Hecuba and Andromache. The beautiful eyes of the Roman maidens glistened with tears at the imaginary sufferings of the inanimate marbles of Niobe and Laocoon, yet how remorselessly they gave the signal of death to the defeated gladiator on the arena of the Colosseum ! The warm, generous, natural impulses of the heart soon become affected, impaired, and even reversed by brutal associations. Circumstances develop greatly the characters of mec, 142 SOUTHEEN PRisoisrs ; and they sometimes rise to true greatness, or sink into baseness, according to the law of effect, of contact, and example. Heroism in the damp and noxious prisons, where the noble qualities of the mind are shaken and swayed by the sufferings of the body, is far different from that which is displayed upon the battle-field, amid the glit- tering and inspiring pomp of war. The men at Thermopylae fought in the shadows of the soul-inspiring mountains, and beheld, through the charm of distance, their homes and the beautiful valleys they had sworn to defend. The Decii saw the shining swords of their enemies when they rushed into battle, and the dying nobly, and the glory, made all fear of death but of little weight. Here, instead of bright and glorious banners, and the flash of arms, the lon^ array of men eager for the con- test, and the songs, the shouts of defiance, there was a vast ditch, crowded with living beings of scarce the human form, haggard and unnatural in appearance — a sea of red and fetid mud, trampled and defiled by the immense throng. Instead of the white tents and canopies of military encampments, there were the ragged blankets vainly stretched over upright sticks ; there were the holes in the earth, the burrows in the sand, like the villages of the rats of the great prairies of the West. They were more like the dens of the beast- o ' the desert than habi- tations for human beings. No Christian hand ever penetrated to their depths to aid the sick and suffering inmates, to nourish the hun- gry and console the dying, save one Romish priest ; and OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 143 in spite of the horrors and dangers of the place, he was faithful to his trust. Noble man ! you have proved by these acts that humanity is not a mere matter of gain and self-aggran- dizement. It seemed as though vengeance was prolonged beyond death itself. There is no battle-field on the face of the globe, known to the antiquary, where so many soldiers are interred in one group as are gathered together in the broad trenches of this neglected field among the pine forests of Georgia. What a gathering is this ; what a monument of the incarnation of political lust, of the reckless desperation, the implacpobility of the depraved human heart, when resolved upon cruelty. The world does not offfer, among all of her extant memorials, a more terrible, a more impressive comment upon the ambition, the power, the glory of mankind. That fatal stockade at Andersonville, with the silent mound of earth which contains its harvest of death, is a fair and just exponent of the bigoted and selfish policy that struck down the Flag of the Republic ; of that cruel and unearthly spirit which has despised all the " attachments with which God has formed the chain of human sympathies," and, which, without a tear of re- morse, has strewn the Atlantic Ocean with a broad path- way of human bones. Liberty has but one inscription to offer, and that is the noble lines which were traced on the dungeon wall in the blood of the noblest and purest of the Girondins : '"'' Potius mori quam foedarV — Death rather than dis- honor. What have the wretches to offer in atonement for 144 SOUTHERN PEisoisrs ; these outrages upon nature, these violations of the spirit and majesty of law, from which they now claim protec- tion? Will the blood of these living monsters expiate the martyrdom of the host of dead heroes ? No ! Will it give ease or bring congratulation to the broken and aching hearts who yet revere the memory of the eighty-five thousand victims ? Never ! The divine spirit of liberty would protest against the defilement of her sacred alters with the foul blood of such filthy and depraved sacrifices. No ; let the gates of the prison open, and these men stand forth to the full gaze of ofiended mankind, assas- sins and murderers as they are. History weighs the social institutions of men in the scale of humanity. Time, slowly but surely, accumu- lates the evidence which relates to their materials. It calmly, but firmly unveils the statues which men erect as their principles, and with "that retributive justice which God has implanted in our very acts, as a con- science more sacred than the fatalism of the ancients," lays bear the secret springs of action which have prompt- ed the deeds of heroism or baseness, of virtue or crime. Impartial history will give to the memory of these men a place among the records of useless murder. The law of parole was all-sufficient to prevent their return to service, as their absence from the fields of cam- paign would have been of no material weight with the prolific North, But the intent of their captors was cruelty ; and they strove te reduce the numbers, and to intimidate the cour- age of the Federal soldiers, by acts of savage barbarity, as the relentless Tartar hoped to terrify the Hindoos into OR, .TOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORET^^CE. 14o the profession of Mohammedanism by sacrificing multi- tudes, and deluging whole countries in blood. To deny the criminality is, as Lamartine says of the massacres of September, " to belie the right of feeling of the human race. It is to deny nature, which is the mo- rality of instinct. There is nothing in mankind greater than humanity. It is not more permissible for a govern- ment than for a man to commit murder. If a drop of blood stains the hand of a murderer, oceans of gore do not make innocent the Dantons. The magnitude of the crime does not transform it into virtue. Pyramids of dead bodies rise high, it is true, but not so high as the execration of mankind." Revolutions almost always spring from the noble and generous enthusiasm of j^outh ; but seditions arise from the vulgar and ignoble crowd, or from the outcast few, who would, for wealth, sacrifice all that honor and nature hold dear ; or for the meaner gratifications of self-aggran- dizement, would crumble into dust, and scatter to the winds of the earth, the noblest institutions and laws of mankind. Who will say that this resort to arms was an insurrection of justice in favor of the week, or that it was a revolt of nature against tyranny ? The agitations of revolutions stir up the innermost natures of men, and from the revelations out of the depths appear the extreme qualities of the soul, elevated or de- based, according to the inspirations from heaven or the influence of a vile cause. What rays of intellectual light, what flashes of gen- uine eloquence, burst forth during the tempestuous times of this period to illumine their progress or define the glory of their future ? When the minds and imagina- tions of men are moved in civil war, they betray, in spite 19 146 SOTJTHERN PRISONS ; of themselves, the nobility or meanness of their cans . Even the ignorant, says Qnintilian, when moved by thf^ violent passions, do not seek for what they are to saj It is the soul alone that renders them eloquent. Onl>- the hoarse clamors for revenge, or the holloAV laugh against the remonstrance of humanity, do we hear from their tribunals and halls of legislation. Fatuity pos- sessed their minds, and rather than not succeed in their designs, the leaders would have preferred a dreary soli- tude to the best interests of humanity, or, like Erostra- tus, they would have rather burned down the temple of liberty itself " Pejus deteriusque tyrannide sive injusto iraperio, bellum civile." Civil liberty is again triumphant, but at wliat a sacri- fice of human life ! What a deluge of blood has been poured over nature' s fields, where the contending armies have struggled together ! A half a million of lives have been yielded up in this the nation' s sacrifice. " The tree of Libert3^," said Barere, "is best watered with the blood of tyrants;" but how few among this immense host of victims were the originators of the sedi- tion ! The merciless schemers of bloody and cruel wars rarely expose their precious lives to the chances of com- bat. During the existence of the slave system, and the long period of its progress, what has it ^^roduced to enrich the heritage of the human mind ? Where are the holy and pure traditions, the bright recollections ? Neither wisdom nor philosophy has appeared, nor those arts which serve to form the "happy genius of nations." There are countries where the march of ideas is accelerated only by the force of selfish passions ; and OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORElSrCE. 147 philanthropy, that true index of civilization, only appears when it is required by mercantilism or political ambition. The aims and influences of commercial and political life • can debase and destroy the noblest impulses. " It is a grand and beautiful spectacle," exclaims the eloquent Rousseau, "to see man issue forth out of nothingness, as it were, by his own proper efforts, to dissipate, by the light of his reason, the shadows in which nature had enveloped him, to elevate himself above himself, to glance with his spirit even into the cek'stial regions, to pass, with the stride of a giant, even as the sun, through the vast expanse of the universe, and what is still greater and more diflicul t, to enter one' s self, and study there man, and to understand his nature, his duties, and his end.': Civilization claims to introduce the elements of peace, happiness, and prosperity into the structure of society, and to transform the sword and the spear into the harm- less implements of husbandry ; yet with a swifter pace the engines of war increase, man thirsts as fiercely for the blood of his fellow-man, and the dormant sjoiiit of destruction is as ready to illume the torch, as in the reck- less times of past history. Even in this enlightened age we are constantly reminded of the truth and force of the remark of Hannibal : "No great state can long remain at rest. If it has no enemies abroad, it finds them at home ; as overgrown bodies seem safe from external injuries, but suffer grievious inconveniences from their own strength." The motives of self-aggrandizement by force of arms appear to be innate in human nature. We see men maintaining monstrous ideas. We see great armies sin- gularly swayed by single minds, in defiance of truth 148 SOUTHEEN PRISONS ; and reason. Tlie soldiers of Catiline fought to the last gasp, and perished to a man, embracing the eagle of Marius— " Marius, who sprang from the dust the expir- ing Gracchi flung towards heaven," and who first dared attack the aristocratic nobility, and defend the down- trodden rights of the oppressed plebeian. There are mysterious laws, which seem to regulate the expansion and the decay of the human families. There are unseen forces which now and then impel vicious men to their own distruction. We see passionate men defending palpable errors with fanaticism and metaphysical temerity, as though they were divine dogmas Thus Slavery would legalize frightful tyranny, and declare permanent proscriptions, with the same ease that it consigned thousands to starvation. 'If liberty,' says the author of the 'Essai sur le Despotisme,' 'is the first of resorts for man, Slavery must alter all the sentiments, blunt all the sen- sations, and denaturalize them ; stifle all talent, blend all shades, corrupt all the orders of state, and scatter discord, the germ of anarchy and revolutions. Man is only wicked when a superstitious institution or a tyran- nical government gives the example of ferocity, and supplies him with fear for motive and cupidity for pas- sion. But it is necessary to distinguish with men the character acquired from natural inclination : we are, of all beings, the most susceptible of modifications, and above all, of extreme passions. An enslaved people are always vile : they can be wicked and cruel, because they are irritable, gloom}^ and ignorant ; and when, although instruction will not be the only rampart of liberty against tyranny, it will always be the first safe- OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 149 guard of man against man ; but the slave is a mutilated man.' Every writer will admit this whose pen is not enslaved by fear, or rendered venal by interest. The right of making prisoners of war, and depriving them of their liberty, and of the power and opportunity of farther resistance, is undoubted, for it is founded on the principles of security and self-defence. But when the soldier has laid down his arms, and submitted to the will of the conqueror, the right of taking his life ceases, unless he should forfeit the right himself by some new crime ; and the savage errors of antiquity, in putting prisoners to death, have long been renounced by civil- ized nations. Among the European states prisoners of war are sel- dom ill-treated ; and when the number of prisoners is so great as not to be fed, or kept with safety, it has been the custom to parole them, either for a certain length of time, or for the war. All authorities agree that they cannot be made slaves, although under certain circum- stances they may be set at labor on the public fortifica- tions and works. Prisoners of war are retained to prevent their return- ing to the field of conflict, and there are times when they may be detained and refused all ransom, when, for m stance, it is obvious that the parole will not be regarded by the opposing commanders, and when their exchange would throw a preponderance of weight into the ranks of the antagonist. It would have been very dangerous for the Czar Peter the Great to have exchanged his Swe- dish prisoners for an equal number of unequal Russians ; but whilst retained they were treated with kindness. The rebel policy and system towards the Federal 150 80UTHEEN PEisoiirs ; prisoners, along the entire line, witliont exception, from Virginia to Texas, was one of stupendous atrocity. It was one of the most inhuman and monstrous that hate and tyrannj^ ever invented. It was no less derogatory to human character than defiant to the principles of Christianity ; hut Christianity was unknown there. The gods of worship were the deities of the dark ages, and the fancied garlands of flowers that decorated their stat- ues were nothing more than wreaths of C3'prus leaves. This stockade was the epitome and concentration of all earthly misery, to which the Bastile and the Inquisition ofier but feeble comparisons, as prototypes, as models as ideas, for the destruction of human life. In this we recognize the perversion of the natural sentiments after two centuries of crime, the defiance of all honorable law, 'the barbarism of slavery.' What can we, in extenuation, ascribe to recklessness, what to ignorance ? ' There is,' says the eloquent Eous- seau, ' a brutal and ferocious ignorance, which springs from a bad heart and a false sprit. A criminal igno- rance, which extends itself even to the duties of human- ity; which multiplies vices, which degrades reason, debases the soul, and renders man like the beasts.' These men destroyed, the strength, the lives of thou- sands, by stealth}^ means, and excused their consciences by the reflections of perverted nature : as Timour said to his victims, 'It is you who assassinate your own souls ! ' It has been the custom, among European nati^us, lo treat prisoners of war liberally, and the expenses of aiaintaining them are paid by both sides at the close of ihe war. The British Parliament voted, in 1780, to pay forty OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 151 thonsand pounds sterling to disinfect and improve the prison where the Spanish prisoners were confined, and where a fatal fever had declared itself. And there are many instances where European powers have acted kindly and humanely towards those who had fallen into their power from hazard of battle. War was de- clared against states, and not against the individual subjects of those states. At all times, kindness to the unfortunate, and hospi- tality to strangers, has always been considered as a vir- tue of the first rank among people whose manners are simple, and who, uncontaminated by vices of a false and frivolous civilization, exhibit the natural qualities of the human race. Even among the darkness of the middle ages kindness was compulsory, and hospitality enforced by statute, and whoever denied succor to mis- ery was liable to punishment. "Quicunque hospiti venienti lectum aut focum negaverit trium solidorum in latione mulct ■ ur." (Leg. Burgund., tit. 88, § 1.) The laws ov the Slavi ordained that the movables of \n inhospitable person should be confiscated, and his louse burned. In comparison with these humane provisions, how terribly contrasted are the modes of treatment as pra^ ticed by the Rebel authorities upon the Federal sold.crs 1 'Let US hoist the black flag, and kill every prisoner,' said one of the cabinet ofiicers. ' I will sell my whea^ said another cabinet oflSicer, ' to my fellow-c'/izens, at exorbitant prices.' ' My God,' said a poor woman, * how can I pay such prices ! I have seven children ? What shall I do ?' ' I do not know, madam,' was the brutal answer, 'unless you eat them.' When such sentiments prevailed at Richmond, what 152 SOUTHERN PEisoisrs ; could be expected in kindness by those who were looked apon with hatred and as worthy of death ? In the revolutionary times of 1776, there was no bru- tal treatment of prisoners of war by Americans. Wash- ington was extremel}' solicitous that no act of barbarity should stain the sanctity of the cause. In a letter of May 11, 1776, Washington wrote to the President of Congress, recommending that measures be adopted to secure for prisoners of war the most humane treatment ; and again to the Massachusetts Committee, February 6, 1776, he wrote, recommending that captives should be treated with humanity and kindness. The Continental Congress passed a resolution iii 1776, that all taken with arms be treated as prisoners of war, but with humanity, and allowed the same rations as the troops in the service of the United States. The United States Government adopted the following rules in 1863 for the guidance of our armies, and pub- lished them in General Order, No. 100, April 24 : — * * * * 11. The law of war not only disclaims all cruelty and bad faith concerning engagements concluded with the enemy during the war, but also the breaking of stipula- tions solemnly contracted by the belligerents in time of peace, and avowedly intended to remain in force in case of war between the contracting powers. It disclaims all extortions and other transactions for individual gain ; all acts of private revenge, or conni- vance at such acts. Offences to the contrary shall be severely punished, and especially so if committed by officers. 14. Military necessity, as understood by modern civ- ilized nations, consists in the necessity of those measures OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE 153 which are indispensible for securing the ends of war, and which are lawful according to the modern law and usages of war. 15. Military necessity admits of all direct destruction of life or limb of armed enemies, and of other persons whose destruction is incidently unavoidable in the armed contests of the war ; it allows of the capturing of every armed enemy, and every enemy of importance to the hostile government, or of peculiar danger to the captor ; it allows of all destruction of property, and obstruction of the ways and channels of traffic, travel, or communication, and of all withholding of sustenance or means of life from the enemy ; of the appropriation of whatever an enemy's country affords necessary for the safety and subsistence of the army, and of such deception as does not involve the breaking of good faith, either positively pledged regarding agreements entered into during the war, or supposed by the modern law of war to exist. Men who take up arms against one another in public war do not cease on this account to be moral beings, responsible to one another and to God. 16. Military necessity does not admit of cruelty, — that is, the infliction of suffering for the sake of suffer- ing or revenge, — nor of maiming or wounding, except in fight, nor of torture to extort confessions. It does not admit of the use of poison in any way, nor of the wan- ton devastation of a district. It admits of deception, but disdains acts of perfidy; and, in general, military necessity does not include any act of hostility which renders the return to peace unnecessarily difficult. 27. The law of war can no more wholly dispense with retaliation than can the law of nations, of which it is a branch ; yet civilized nations acknowledge retal- 20 154 SOUTHEEN PRISONS ; iation as the sternest feature of war. A reckless enemy often leaves to his opponents no other means of securing himself against the repetition of barbarous outrage. 28. Retaliation will, therefore, never be resorted to as a measure of mere revenge, but only as a means of pro- tective retribution, and cautiously and unavoidably ; that is to say, retaliation shall only be resorted to after careful inquiry into the real occurrence and the charac- ter of the misdeeds that may demand retribution. 33. It is no longer considered lawful — on the contrary it is held to be a serious breach of the law of war — to force the subjects of the enemy into the service of the victorious government, except the latter should proclaim after a fair and complete conquest of the hostile country or district, that it is resolved to keep the country, dis- trict, or place, permanently as its own, and make it a portion of its own country. 49. A prisoner of war is a public enemy, armed oi attached to the hostile army for active aid, who has fallen into the hands of the captor, either fighting or wounded, on the field or in the hospital, by individual surrender or by capitulation. 52. No belligerent has the right to declare that he will treat every captured man in arms, of a levy en masse, as a brigand or bandit. * * * 56. A prisoner of war is subject to no punishment for being a public enemy, nor is any revenge wreaked upon him by the intentional infliction of any suffering, or dis- grace by cruel imprisonment, want of food, by mutila- tion, death, or any other barbarity. 57. So soon as a man is armed by a sovereign gov- ernment, and takes the soldier's oath of fidelity, he is a OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 155 belligerent ; his killing, wounding, or other warlike acts are no individual crime or offence. * * * 67. The law of nations allows every sovereign govern- ment to make war upon another sovereign state, and therefore admits of no rules or laws different from those of regular warfare regarding the treatment of prisoners of war, although they may belong to the army of a gov- ernment which the captor may consider as a wanton and unjust assailant. The use of poison in any manner, be it to poison wells, or food, or arms, is wholly excluded from modern warfare. He that uses it puts himself out of the pale of the laws and usages of war. 71. Whoever intentionally inflicts additional wounds on an enemy already wholly disabled, or kills such an enemy, or who orders or encourages soldiers to do so, shall suffer death if duly convicted, whether he belongs to the Army of the United States, or is an enemy cap- tured after having committed his misdeed. 72. Money and other valuables on the person of a prisoner, such as watches or jewelry, as well as extra clothing, aie regarded by the American army as the private property of the prisoners, and the appropriation of such valuables or money is considered dishonorable, and is prohibited. 74. A prisoner of war, being a public enemy, is the prisoner of the government and not of the captor. No ransom can be paid by a prisoner of war to his individ- ual captor or to any officer in command. The govern- ment alone releases captives, according to rules pre- scribed by itself. 75. Prisoners of war are subject to confinement or imprisonment, such as may be deemed necessary on 166 SOTJTHEKN PEISOIS-S; acconnt of safety, Ibut they are to be sulbjected to no other intentional suffering or indignity. The confine- ment and mode of treating a prisoner may be varied during his captivity, according to the demands of safety. 76. Prisoners of war sliall be fed upon plain and wholesome food whenever practicable, and treated with humanity. They may be required to work for the ben- efit of the captor's government, according to their rank iind condition. 77. A prisoner of war who escapes, may be shot or 3therwise killed in his flight, but neither death nor any other punishment shall be inflicted upon him, simply for his attempt to escape, which the law of war does not consider a crime. Stricter means of security shall be used after an unsuccessful attempt at escape. •* * * 109. The exchange of prisoners of war is an act of convenience to both belligerents. If no general cartel has been concluded it cannot be demanded by either of them. No belligerent is obliged to exchange prisoners of war. A cartel is voidable as soon as either party has violated it. 119. Prisoners of war may be released from captivity by exchange, and under certain circumstances, also by parole. 120. The term parole designates the pledge of indi- vidual good faith and honor to do, or to omit doing, cer- tain acts after he who gives his parole shall have been dismissed wholly or partially from the power of the captor. 121. The pledge of the parole is always an individual but not a private act. 133. No prisoner of war can be forced by the hostile government to parole himself, and no government is OR, JOSIE, THE HEROr^TE OF FLORENCE. 157 obliged to parole prisoners of war, or to parole all cap- tured officers, if it paroles any. As the pledging of the parole is an individual act, so is paroling, on the other hand, an act of choice on the part of the belligerent. From the " Detroit Advertiser and Tribune," 1869. During the recent official tour of a veteran officer of the regular army to the cemeteries of the Union dead in the South, he had a personal opportunity of inspecting the grounds occupied during the rebellion by the in- famous prison pen known as Andersonville, Ga. The stockades and sheds have been removed, and the blasted spot converted into a burial ground, where some fifteen thousand of the Union soldiers " sleep their last sleep." Andersonville is not even a hamlet. It is a deserted place, with only one or two little shanties, and was se- lected for the express purpose of making the brave men there confined as miserable as possible, and of removing them from all intercourse with the outside world. As some efforts have been made to rescue Winder, the com- mander of this post, from the responsibility of the cruelty inflicted upon these military prisoners, and espe- cially from the shame of giving an order for their indis- criminate massacre on the approach of Sherman' s army, .ihe gentleman in question took some pains to investigate the facts, and his conclusions are that the worst that was charged against this cruel man falls below the hor- rid reality. In proof of his judgment he has handed to us the following extract from a book published by Dr. Ambrose Spencer, who resided near Andersonville when • it was occupied by the rebel government as a prison. He was perfectly and personally acquainted with every thing that transpired there during Winder's administra- 158 SOUTHERN PEISONS ; tion. Dr. Spencer is a son of the late John C. Spencer, of New York, Secretary of War, and afterwards Secre- tary of the Treasury, under President Tyler, and pre- viously in Congress and in other high positions. He has resided many years in the South, and is everywhere ac- cepted as a trustworthy and reliable man. This testi- mony is borne to his character by all our friends in Georgia, including officers of the army, and Union men generally. The horrible order of Winder, incorporated in this published statement of Dr. Spencer, has been duly examined and compared with the original, thus placing its authenticity beyond all cavil : To complete his precautions for the safe-keeping of his charge, or to quell any disposition to revolt, he had placed, through Gen. Winder' s orders, a battery of six pieces of artillery, which commanded the whole interior of the prison, and which was kept charged with grape and canister, ready for instant service. The orders to the officers in command were to " sweep the stockade " if there was any appearance of mutiny, or any unusual crowding together of its inmates. The artillerists were on duty at night as well as in the day, and were relieved at their guns as regularly as were the customary sentinels on guard. The position of the battery upon a hill, and overlooking the prison, while it commanded its whole interior, was such that, if the order had ever been given to fire, its hurling grape would have borne death and desolation to many thousands. When Gen. Kilpatrick, of the Union army, was ex- pected to advance in his raid as far as Anderson ville, the following order was issued : OS, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOEENCE. 159 OEDERS NO. 13. Headquarters, Confederate States Military Prison, Andersonville, July 27, 1864. The officer on duty and in charge of the battery of "Florida Artillery " at the time will, upon receiving notice that the enemy have approached within seven miles of this place, open fire upon the stock- ade wiih buckshot, without reference to the situation beyond these lines of defense. It is better that the last Federal be exterminated than be permitted to burn and pillage the property of loyal citizens, as they will do if allowed to make their escape from prison. By order of Jolin H. Winder, Brigadier General. W. S. WINDER, Assistant Adjutant General. 160 SOUTHEBN PKISO]S"«: CHAPTER XYI. THE PRISONERS' MEMORIAL. Their Address from Andersonville to the President. — A Pathetic and Truthful Appeal. Let laurels, drenched in pure Parnassian dews. Reward his memory, dear to every muse. Who with a courage of unshaken root, In honor's field advancing his firm foot. Plants it upon the line that justice draws, And will prevail or perish in the cause. Cowper. In August, 1864, a memorial was sent to the President of the United States, by the prisoners still in confine- ment at Andersonville, representing theu' sufferings, and appealing for succor. Deeming it evidence of the utm 3st importance, I quote the memorial in full as publish >d by the U. S. Sanitary Commission. The Memorial or the Uisrioiir Prisoners Confiisted AT Andersonville, Gta., to the President of THE United States. Confederate States Prison, Charleston, S. C, August, 1864. To the President of the United States : The condition of the enlisted men belonging to the Union armies, now prisoners to the Confederate Rebel forces, is such that it becomes our duty, and the duty of OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREIS'CE. 161 every commissioned officer, to make known the facts in the case to the Government of the United States, and to to use every honorable effort to secure a general exchange of prisoners, thereby relieving thousands of our com- rades from the horror now surrounding them. For some time past there has been a concentration of prisoners from all parts of the Rebel territory to the State of Georgia — the commissioned officers being con- fined at Macon, and the enlisted men at Andersonville. Recent movements of the Union armies under Gen- eral Sherman have compelled the removal of prisoners to other pouits, and it is now understood that they will be removed to Savannah, Georgia, and Columbus and Charleston, South Carolina. But no change of this kind holds out any prospect of relief to our poor men. In- deed, as the localities selected are far more unhealthy, there must be an increase rather than a diminution of suffering. Colonel Hill, Provost Marshal General, Con- federate States Army, at Atlanta, stated to one of the officers that there were thirty-five thousand prisoners at Andersonville, and by all accounts from the United States soldiers who have been confined there, the num- ber is not overstated by him. These thirty-five thousand prisoners are confined in a field of some eighteen acres, inclosed by a stockade of unhewn logs, heavily guarded. About one-third have various kinds of indifferent shel- ter ; but upwards of thirty thousand are wholly without shelter, or even shade of any kind, and are exposed to the storms and rains, which are of almost daily occur- rence ; the cold dews of the night, and the more terrible effects of the sun striking with almost tropical fierceness upon their unprotected heads. This mass of men jostle and crowd each other up and down the limits of their 21 162 SOFTHERN PRISONS ; inclosure, in storms or sun, and others lie down upon the pitiless earth at night, with no other covering than the clothing upon their backs, and few, if any of them, have even a blanket. Upon entering the prison every man is deliberately stripped of money and other property, and as no cloth ing or blankets are ever supplied to their prisoners by the Rebel authorities, the condition of the apparel of the soldiers, just from an active campaign, can be easily imagined. Thousands are without pants or coats, and hundreds without even a pair of drawers to cover their nakedness. To these men, as indeed to all prisoners, there is issued three-quarters of a pound of bread or meal, and one-eighth of a pound of meat per day. This is the entire ration, and upon it the prisoner must live or die. The meal is often unsifted and sour, and the meat such as in the North is consigned to the soapmaker. Such are the rations upon which Union soldiers are fed by the Rebel authorities, and by which they are barely holding on to life. But to starvation and exposure to sun and storm, add the sickness which prevails to a most alarm- ing and terrible extent. On an average, one hundred die daily. It is impossible that any Union soldier should know all the facts pertaining to this terrible mor- tality, as they are not paraded by the rebel authorities. Such a statement as the following, made by , speaks eloquent testimony. Said he : " Of twelve of us who were captured, eight died, two are in the hospital, and I never expect to see them again. There are but two of us left." In 1862, at Montgomery, Alabama, under far more favorable circumstances, the prisoners being protected by sheds, from one hundred and fifty to OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIlSrE OF FLORENCE, 163 two hundred were sick from diarrlioea and chills, out or seven hundred. The same per centage would give seven thousand sick at Anderson ville. It needs no comment, no efforts at word painting, to make such a picture stanl out noldl} in most horrible colors. Nor is this all. Among the ill-fated of the many who have suffered amputation in consequence of injuries received before capture, sent from Rebel hospitals beiore their wounds were healed, these are eloquent witnesses of the barbarities of which they are victims. If to the se facts is added this, that nothing more demoralizes so - diers, and develops the evil passions of man than star vation, the terrible condition of Union prisoners at Andersonville can be readily imagined. They are fast losing hope, and becoming utterly reckless of life. Numbers, crazed by their sufferings, wander about in a state of idiocy ; others deliberately cross the ' ' dead line," and are remorselessly shot down In behalf of these men we most earnestly appeal t) the President of the United States. Few of them have been captured except in the front of battle, in the deadly encounter, and only when overpowered by numbers. They constitute as gallant a portion of our armies as carry our banners any where. If released, they would soon return to again do vigorous battle for our cause. We are told that the only obstacle in the way of ex- change is the status of enlisted negroes captured from our armies, the United States claiming that the carte] covers all who serve under its flag, and the Confederate States refusing to consider the colored soldiers, hereto- fore slaves, as prisoners of war. We beg leave to sug gest some facts bearing upon the question of exchange, 164 SOUTHEEN PKISO]?fS ; whicli we would urge upon this consideration. Is it not consistent with the national honor, without waiving the claim that the negro soldiers shall be treated as prisoners of war, to effect an exchange of the white soldiers ? The two classes are treated differently by the enemy. The whites are confined in such prisons as Libby and Ander- sonville, starved and treated with a barbarism unknown to civilized nations. The blacks, on the contrary, are seldom imprisoned. They are distributed among the citizens, or employed on government works. Under these circumstances they receive enough to eat, and are worked no harder than they have been accustomed to be. They are neither starved or killed off by the pesti- lence in the dungeons of Richmond and Charleston. It is true they are again made slaves ; but their slavery is freedom and happiness compared with the cruel exis- tence imposed upon our gallant men. They are not bereft of hope, as are the white soldiers, dying by piece- meal. Their chances of escape are tenfold greater than those of the white soldiers, and their condition, in all its lights, is tolerable in comparison with that of the pri- soners of war now languishing in the dens and pens of Secession. While, therefore, believing the claims of our Govern- ment in matters of exchange, to be just, we are pro- foundly impressed with the conviction that the circum- stances of the two classes of soldiers are so widely dif- ferent that the Government can honorably consent to an exchange, waiving for a time the established principle justly claimed to be applicable in the case. Let thirty- five thousand suffering, starving, and dying enlisted men aid this appeal. By prompt and decided action in their behalf, thirty -five thousand heroes wUl be made happy. OR. JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 165 For the eighteen liiindred commissioned officers now pri- soners, we urge nothing. Although deskous of returning to our duty, we can bear imprisonment with more forti- tude if the enlisted men, whose sufferings we know to be intolerable, were restored to liberty and life. 1.06 SOUTHEEB PBISOlfSJ CHAPTER XYTI. TESTIMONY OF SOLDIERS. Additional Horrors Unfolded — A Plain Unvarnished Tale. ' This is all true as it is strange ; Nay, it is te times true, for truth is truth To the end of the reckoning. Shakspeare. From the Sanitary Commission Bulletin. The following statement was drawn up for the Com- mission, and sworn to !^y the parties signing it. They were exchanged on the 16th of August, 1864, and with three others, were appointed by their companions in prison as a deputation to see President Lincoln in their behalf. Deposition of Private Teacy : I am a private in the Eighty-second New York Regi- ment of Volunteers, Company S-. Was captured with about eight hundred Federu,x troops, in front of Peters burg, on the twenty-second of June, 1864. We were kept at Petersburg two days, at Richmond and Belle Isle, three days, then conveyed by rail to I ynchburg. March- ed seventy -five miles to Danville, thence by rail to Andersonville, Ga. At Petersburg we were treated fairly, being under the guard of old soldiers of an Ala- bama regiment ; at Richmond we came under the author- ity of the notorious and inhuman Major Turner, and the eq[ually notorious Home Guard. Our rations was a pint OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 167 of beans, four ounces of bread, and three ounces of meat a day. Another batch of prisoners joining us, we left Richmond sixteen hundred strong. All blankets, haversacks, canteens, money, valuables of every kind, extra clothing, and in some cases, the last shirt and drawers had been previously taken from us. At Lynchburg we were placed under the Home Guards, officered by Major and Captain MofFett. The march to Danville was a weary and painful one of five days, under a torrid sun, many of us falling helpless by the way, and soon filling the empt}?^ wagons of our trains. On the first day we received a little meat, but the sum of our rations for the five days was thirteen crackers. During the six days by rail to Andersonville, meat was given us twice, and the daily ration was four crackers. On entering the stockade prison, we found it crowded with twenty-eight thousand of our fellow soldiers. By crowded, I mean that it was difficult to move in any dir- ection,without jostling and being jostled. This prison is an open space, sloping on both sides, originally seven- teen acres, now twenty-five acres, in the shape of a par- allelogram, without trees or shelter of any kind. The soil is sand over a bottom of clay. The fence is made of upright trunks of trees, about twenty feet high, near the top of which are small platforms, where the guards are stationed. Twenty feet inside, and parallel to the fence, is a light railing, forming the "dead line," beyond which the projection of a foot or finger is sure to bring the deadly bullet of the sentinel. Through the grounds, at nearly right-angles with the longer sides, runs, or rather creeps a stream through an artificial channel, vary- ing from five to six feet in width, the water about ankle 168 SOUTHERN PEISONS; deep, and near the middle of the inclosure, spreading out into a swamp of about six acres, filled with refuse wood, stumps, and debris of the camp. Before entering this inclosure, the stream or more properly sewer, passes through the camp of the guards, receiving from this source, and others farther up, a large amount of the vi- lest material, even the contents of the sink. The water is of a dark color, and an ordinary glass would collect a thick sediment. This was our only drinking and cooking water. It was our custom to filter it as best we could, through our remnants of haversacks, shirts and blouses. AVells had been dug, but the water proved so productive of diarrhoea, or so limited in quantity, tliat they were of no general use. The cook-house was situ- ated on the stream just outside the stockade, and its refuse of decaying offal was thrown into the water, a greasy coating covering much of the surface. To these was added the daily large amount of base matter from the cam]3 itself. There was a system of policing, but the means were so limited, and so large a number of the men was rendered irresolute and depressed by imprison- ment, that the work was very imperfectly done. One side of the swamp was naturally used as a sink, the men usually going out some distance into the water. Under the summer sun this place early became corrup- tion too vile for description, the men breeding disgusting life, so that the surface of the water moved as with a gentle breeze. * The new comers, on reaching this, would exclaim : "Is this hell?" yet they soon would become callous, and enter unmoved the horrible rottenness. The Rebel authorities never removed away filth. There was seldom any visitation by the officers in charge. Two surgeons OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 169 w*>re at one time sent by President Davis to inspect the camp, but a walk through a small section gave them all the information they desii-ed, and we never saw them again. The guards usually numbered about sixty-four, eight at each end, and twenty-four on a side. On the outside, within three hundred yards, were fortifications, on high ground, overlooking and perfectly commanding us, mounting twenty-four twelve-pound Napoleon Parr- otts. We were never permitted to go outside, except at times, in small squads to gather firewood for the squad we belonged to. During the building of the cook house, a few, who were carpenters, were ordered out to assist. Our only shelter from the sun and rain and night dews, was what we could make by stretching over us our coats or scraps of blankets, wliich a few liad, but generally there was no attempt by day or night to protect our- selves. The rations consisted of eight ounces of corn bread, (the cob being ground with the kernel, ) and generally sour, two ounces of condemned pork, ofiensive in appearance and smell. Occasionally, about twice a week, two tablespoonfuls of rice, and in place of the pork the same amount, "two tablespoonfuls" of moi- ass^ was giv^ us about twice a month.* This ration was brought into camp about four o'clock, p. m., and thrown from the wagons to the ground, the men being- arranged in divisions of two hundred and seventy, sub- divided into squads of nineties and thirties. It was the custom to consume the whole ration at once, rather than save any for the next day. The distribution being often unequal, some would lose their rations altogether. We were allowed no dish or cooking utensil of any kind. On opening the camp in the winter, the fii'st two thou- 22 170 SOUTHEEN PRISOTSr?-- sand prisoners were allowed skillets, one to fifty men, but these were soon taken away. To the best of my knowledge, information and belief, our ration was in quality a starving one, it being either too foul to be touched, or too raw to be digested. The cook house went into operation about May tenth, prior to which w^ cooked our own rations. It did not prove at all adequate to the work, (thirty thousand is a large town,) so that a large proportion were still obliged to prepare their own food. In addition to the utter inability of many to do this, through debility and sick- ness, we never had a supply of wood. I have often seen men with a little bag of meal in hand, gathered from several rations, starving to death for want of wood, and in desperation would mix the raw material with water, and try to eat it. The clothing of the men was miserable in the extreme. Very few had shoes of any kind, not two thousand had coats and pants, and those were late comers. More than one-half were indecently exposed, and many were naked. The usual punishment was to place the men in the stocks, outside, near the Captain's quarters. If a man was missing at roll call, the squad of ninety to which he belonged was deprived of the ration. The " dead line ' ' bullet, already referred to, spared no offender. One poor fellow, just from Sherman' s army — his name was Koberts — was tr3dng to wash his face near the "dead line" railing, when he slipped on the clayey bottom, and fell with his head just outside the fatal border. We shouted to him, but it was too late — "another guard would have a furlough," the men said. It was a common belief among our men, arising from statements made by the guard, that General Winder, in OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OB FLORENCE. -xtl command, issued an order that any one of the guard who should shoot a Yankee outside of the "dead line," should have a month' s furlough, but there probably was no truth in this. About two a day were thus shot, some being cases of suicide brought on by mental depression or physical misery, the poor fellows throwing them- selves, or madly rushing outside the "line." The mental condition of a large portion of the men was melancholy, beginning in despondency, and tending to a kind of stolid and idiotic indifference. Many spent much time in arousing and encouraging their fellows, but hundreds were lying about motionless, or stalking vacantly to and fro, quite beyond any help which could be given them within their prison walls. These cases were frequent among those who had been imprisoned but a short time. There were those who were captured at the first Bull Run, July, 1861, and had known Belle Isle from the first, yet had preserved their physical and mental health to a wonderful degree. Many were wise and resolute enough to keep themselves occupied — some in cutting bone and wood ornaments, making their knives out of iron hoops — others in manufacturing ink from the rust from these same hoops, and with rude pens sketching or imitating bank notes or any sample that would involve long and patient execution. Letters fron/ home very seldom reached us, and few had any means of writing. In the early summer a large batch of letters — five thousand we were told — arrived, having been accumulating somewhere for many months. These were brought into camp by an ofiicer, under orders to collect ten cents on each— of course most were returned, and we heard no more of them. One of my compani^yjs saw among them three from his parents. 173 SOTTTHERlSr PRISONS; bnt he was unable to pay tte charge. According to the rules of transmission of letters over the lines, these let- ters must have already paid ten cents each to the Rebel Government. As far as we saw General Winder and Captain Wirtz, the former was kind and considerate in his manners, the latter harsh, though not without kindly feelings. It is a melancholy and mortifying fact, that some of our own trials came from our own men. At Belle Isle and Andersonville there was among us a gang of des- perate men, ready to prey on their fellows. Not only thefts and robberies, but even murders were committed. Affairs became so serious at Port Sumpter, that an appeal was made to General Winder, who authorized an arrest and trial by a criminal court. Eighty- six were arrested, and six were hung, beside others who were severely punished. These proceedings effected a marked change for the better. Some few weeks before being released, I was ordered to act as clerk in the hospital. This consists simply of a few scattered trees and fly tents, and is in charge of Dr. White, an excellent and considerate man, with very limited means, but doing all in his power for his patients. He has twenty -five assistants, besides those detailed to examine for admittance to the hospital. This examina- tion was' made in a small stockade attached to the main one, to the inside door of which the sick came or were brought by their comrades, the number to be removed being limited. Lately, in consideration of the rapidly increasing sickness, it was extended to one hundred and fifty daily. That this was too small an allowance is shown by the fact that the deaths within our stockade were from thirty to forty a day. OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 173 I have seen one hundred and fifty bodies waiting- passage to the "dead-house," to be buried with those who died in hospital. The average of deaths through the earlier months was thirty a day ; at the time I left, the average was over one hundred and thirty, and one day the record showed one hundred and forty-six. The proportion of deaths from starvation, not inclu- ding those consequent on the diseases originating in the character and limited quantity of food, such as diar- rhoea, dysentery and scurvy, I cannot state ; but, to the best of my knowledge, information and belief, there were scores every month. We could, at any time, point out many for whom such a fate was inevitable, as they lay or feebly walked, mere skeletons, whose emaciation exceeded the examples given in Leslie's Illustrated for June 18th, 1864. For example : in some cases, the inner edges of the two bones of the arms, between the elbow and the wrist, with the intermediate blood vessels, were plainly visible when held toward the light. The ration, in quantity, was perhaps barely sufficient to sustain life, and the cases of starvation were generally those whose stomachs could not retain what had become entirely indigestible. For a man to find, on talking, that his comrade by his side was dead, was an occurrence too common to be noted. I have seen death in almost all the forms of the hospital and battle-field, but the daily scenes in Camp Sumter exceeded in the extremity of misery all my pre- vious experience. The work of burial is performed by our own men, under guard and orders, seventy-five bodies being placed in a single pit, with head-boards, and the sad duty per- formed with indecent haste. Sometimes our men were 174 souTHEEisr PEisoNS ; rewarded for this work with, a few sticks of fire-wood, and I have known them to quarrel over a dead body for the job. Our men — especially the mechanics — were tempted with the offer of liberty and large wages to take the oath of allegiance to the Confederacy, but it was very rare that their patriotism, even under such a fiery trial, ever gave way. I carry this message from one of my com- panions to his mother: "My treatment here is killii]^ me, mother, but I die cheerfully for my country." Some attempts were made to escape, but wholly in vain, for if the prison walls and guards were passed, and the protecting woods reached, the blood-hounds were sure to find us out. The number in camp when I left was nearly thirty- five thousand, and the number of deaths was daily in- creasing. The number in hospital was about five thou sand. I was exchanged at Port Royal Ferry, August 16th, 1864. PRESCOTT TRACY, Eighty-second Regiment N. Y. V. City and County of New York — ss. ' H. C. Higginson and S. Noirot, being duly sworn, say : That the above statement of Prescott Tracy, their fellow-prisoner, agrees with their own knowledge and experience. n. C. HIGGINSON, Co. K, Nineteenth HI. Vols. SIL^7 ESTER NOIROT, Co. B, Fifth New Jersey Vols. OK, JOBiJi, xiiJS n^UOOTE OF FLOKilNCJi. 175 CHAP^R xym. THE EVIDENCE FROM WIRTZ'S TRIAL. Quotations from Ambrose Spencer. — Facts Developed upon that Trial. — Sufferings at Andersonville. — Character of the Testimony. — The Stockade. — The Cook-House. — The Hospital. — 'Phe Dead-House. — Condition of the Stockade. — Testimony of Medical Officers. — Causes of Disease and Mortality. — Preventive Measures. — Colonel Chandler's Report. — Colonel Gibb's Testimony. — Evidence of Rebel Officers and Soldiers. — Evidence of residents of Georgia. — Condition of the Hospital. — Charges and Specifications. — Addi- tional Testimony of Brutality. Tyrants seldom die Of a dry death; it waiteih at their gate, Drest in the color of their robes of state. Alley n'H Henry VII. In Ambrose Spencer's work entitled "Andersonville Prison," is contained a large amount of evidence col- lected frm the developments npon the trial of Wirtz, of which we quote the most important parts as tending fully to prove our own statements concerning the treat- ment of Union captives. CHARACTER OF THE TESTIMONY. It is argued that the evidence presenting the horrors of Andersonville is not of that class which is entirely reliable ; that those who were in the rebellion have been brought here forcibly by the government, and ^ade to 176 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; testify in anticipation of reward by pardon, or through fear of being themselves punished ; and that the evi- dence of soldiers who were sufferers at Andersonville was highly colored, testifying as they did under a sense of the injuries inflicted upon them while prisoners, and warmed to enthusiasm in the enumeration of their wrongs. I need only say in reply that the carefal observer of this trial must have discovered how utterly powerless has been the language of witnesses to describe the real condition of affairs at Andersonville ; that where sci- ence has spoken through her devotees, where inspectors have tried to convey a correct idea, where the artist has sought to delineate, or the photographer to call the ele- ments to witness, they have all uniformly declared that, with all these appliances, nothing has presented in their true light the horrors of that place. The evidence be- fore you is of the highest character. It consists of many kinds, from many directions : from persons speaking in the interest and for the good of the rebel government ; from persons under a strong sense of the wrongs done these miserable wretches ; from disinterested observers neither in the one nor in the other army ; and from the injured themselves. And yet there is a most striking concurrence in all this testimony, all agreeing that his- tory has never presented a scene of such gigantic human suffering. If I can succeed in presenting to your mind a faithful picture of Andersonville as it was, or make such an analysis and grouping of the testimony as to show to the civilized world, in a tithe of its horrors, the suffering endured, I shall have accomplished all I can hope, and shall have done more than I fear I am able to do. OE, JOSIE, THE HEROIlSrE OF FLOEENCE. 177 THE STOCKADE. The stockade at Andersonville was originally built, as we learn from many sources, with a capacity for ten thousand, its area being about eighteen acres. It con- tinued without enlargement until the month of June, 1864, when it was increased about one third, its area then, as ' shown by actual survey, being twenty-three and a half acres. The prison, as described by Dr. Jo- seph Jones, a surgeon of the rebel army, in his official report to the surgeon general, consisted of a strong stockade in the form of a parallelogram, twenty feet in height, formed of strong pine logs firmly planted in the ground, with two smaller surrounding stockades, one sixteen and the other twelve feet high, these latter, as he says, "intended for offense and defense. If the inner stockade should at any time be forced by the prisoners, the second forms another line of defense ; while, in case of an attempt to deliver the prisoners by a force opera- ting upon the exterior, the outer line forms an admira- ble protection to the Confederate troops, and a most for- midable obstacle to cavalry or infantry" (Record, page 4328). To show more clearly the strength of this stock- ade, I quote again from Dr. Jones's report: "The four angles of the outer line are strengthened by earth- works upon commanding eminences, from which the cannon, in case of an outbreak among the prisoners, may sweep the entire enclosure" (Record, pages 4328 and 4329). On the outside of the inner stockade were erected thirty -five sentry-boxes or watch-houses overlooking the area within, which were so constructed as to protect the sentries from the sun and rain. From Colonel Chand- ler' s Inspection Report, dated August 6th, 1864, I quote the following : 23 178 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; "A railing around the inside of the stockade, and about twenty feet from it, constitutes the 'dead-line,' beyond which prisoners are not allowed to pass. A small stream passes from west to east through the inclo- sure, about one hundred and fifty yards from its south- ern limit, and furnishes the only water for washing Accessible to the prisoners. Bordering this stream, about thrpe quarters of an acre in the centre of the in- closure are so marshy as to be at present unfit for occu- pation, reducing the available area to about twenty- three and a half acres, which gives somewhat less than six square feet to each prisoner ; " and, he remarks, ' even this is being constantly reduced by the additions to their number." The prison could now be considered as fairly initia- ted, and the absolute wants of those first sent there were supplied in so far as food alone was concerned. But yet no steps were taken to provide quarters or shelter. This neglect upon the part of the rebel authorities, of the officer who planned and erected it, and of its pres- ent commandant, can not be excused upon ordinary grounds. The materials for the construction of barracks existed near at hand, in the superabundant timber with which the whole country was supplied. Cabins, or huts of logs, such as answer the necessities and requirements of many of the inhabitants of that country, and which afford ample and comfortable abodes, might have been built easily and expeditiously by the negroes who raised the stockade. But there was no necessity of resorting to this plan even. Mills for sawing timber were nume- rous in the immediate neighborhood of Andersonville ; one was established and at work, propelled by steam, and which continued work during the entire war, was OK, JOSIE, THE HEROIlSrE OF FLOKENCE. 179 located five miles from that place, upon the railroad. There were four other steam saw-mills within twenty miles, also situated upon the railroad, whose combined production of lumber has been estimated at over twenty thousand feet per day. The facilities for transportation were equal to any at the South, while labor, that of negroes especially, could be obtained without difficulty. Material, such as nails, was already in the possession of the authorities, and nothing but a willingness was wanting to provide such plain but necessary coverings for the prisoners as com- mon humanity dictated. This was not done then nor at any subsequent period, and the interior of the stockade remained, as it has been already described, a vast open parallelogram, whose interior was unencumbered, save by the unfortunates there incarcerated, and who were destined to remain there, with thousands of others subsequently added, exposed to the burning suns of summer, the drenching rains of autumn, and the cold blasts of winter, unpro- tected and uncared for. From the beginning to the close, the only shelter in the prison was such as the ingenuity of the prisoners could devise, all the standing timber and undergrowth having been cut away; and, with the exception of a small shed, covered but not inclosed, stretching across a portion of the north end of the stockade, nothing whatever existed to protect the prisoners from the in- clemency of the weather or the intolerable heat of that climate, The prison was entered by two gates, called the north and south gates ; the first situated a short distance north 180 SOUTHERN PEISONS : of the bakery, the other a short distance from the south- west corner, and on the west side. THE COOK-HOUSE. Immediately above the stockade, and on the stream passing through it, was situated an immense cook-house, at which all the rations provided for the prisoners, if cooked at all, were prepared. The drainage and offal of this bakery passed immediately into the stream run- ning through the prison. Still above, and on the same stream, were located, at distances varying from a hun- dred yards to half a mile, several rebel encampments. These washed into the stream, and their sinks were lo- cated on it. THE HOSPITAL. The hospital, which was erected some time in June, 1864, prior to which time the sick were treated under the shed already referred to inside the stockade, was a stockade inclosure similar to the prison; situated on the south side of the prison, about four hundred yards from the southeast corner, and containing live and a half acres. A stream of water passing through its southeast corner emptied itself into the stream crossing the stockade a few yards from the east side of the stockade. Within this inclosure were erected for hospital buildings long sheds constructed of poles, with roofs made of pine boughs, and in some instances of planks, without any siding or other protection. In some cases wall and fly tents, much worn and in a very bad condition, were used. This con- stituted the shelter furnished the sick. THE DEAD-HOUSE. The dead-house was a building similar to one of the hospital sheds, except that it was partially inclosed by OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOl.XE OF FLOKENCE. 181 boards and puncheons nailed on its sides. To this place the dead were conveyed upon litters, blankets, stretchers, and by such other means as the prisoners could devise, and were conveyed thence in army wag- ons, about twenty -five in each load, piled up "like cord-wood," or "as a Western farmer hauls his rails," as one of the witnesses told you, to the burying-ground, which was situated a few hundred yards northwest of the stockade. COXDITION OF THE STOCKADE. Having thus given an outline of the stockade, the hospital, and their surroundings, let us inquire into the condition of each of these places, taking first the stock- ade. It will be remembered that the testimony is drawn from many sources. I present, 1st. The opinions of medical officers in the service of the rebel government on duty at Andersonville and else- where at the time these sufferings are alleged to have been endured. 2d. The opinions of rebel officers assigned to the spe- cial duty of investigating the condition of affairs at Andersonville, together with the records of the prison. 3d. The opinions and observations of officers and sol- diers of the rebel army on duty at Andersonville. 4th. The observations of persons residing in the vicinity during this period, and who paid frequent visits to Andersonville ; and, . 5th. The testimony of the prisoners themselves. I shall endeavor to present the subject in the order above mentioned. TESTIMONY OF MEDICAL OFFICERS. Among the earlier official inspections given to this 182 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; prison was that of Surgeon E. J. Eldridge, who made a report pursuant to instructions of Major Greneral Howell Cobb, and which accompanied the report of that General made upon the same subject to the Adjutant General of the Kebel Government for the information of the War Department, and which reached that department May 21st, 1864. (See Exhibit 15, A.) He says: "I found the prisoners, in my opinion, too much crowded for the promotion or for the continuance of theii* health, par- ticularly during the approaching summer months. The construction of properly-arranged barracks, would, of course, allow the same number of men to occupy the inclosure with material advantage to their comfort and health. At present their shelter consists of such as they can make of the boughs of trees and poles covered with dirt. The few tents they have are occupied as a hospi- tal I found the condition of a large num- ber of the Belle Isle prisoners on their arrival to be such as to require more attention to their diet and cleanliness than the actual administration of medicine, very many of them suffering from chronic diarrhoea, combined with scorbutic disposition, with extreme emaciation as the consequence. The hospital being within the inclosure, it has been found impracticable to administer such diet, and give them such attention as they require, as, unless constantly watched, such diet as is prepared for them is stolen and eaten by the other prisoners." He then proceeds to urge up'on the authorities in Rich- mond the necessity of removing the hospital. On this point he says, "I consider the establishment of a hospi- tal outside of the present inclosure as essential to the proper treatment of the sick, and most urgently recom- mend its immediate construction." And to meet an ob- OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF ELOREJfCE. 183 jection which he says was made at Richmond to do this, because additional guards would be required, he says, "Nurses could be detailed with such discretion that but few would attempt to escape, and, with frequent roll- calls, they would not be absent biit a few hours before detected, and would be readil^^ caught by the dogs, always at hand for that purpose." Up to this time no bakmg for the prisoners existed, their rations being issued to them raw, as will aj)pear from the following paragraph in the report : "Their bak- ery just being completed will be a means of furnishing better prepared food, particularly bread, tJie half-cooked condition of w^hich has doubtless contributed to the con- tinuance of the bowel affections." The mean strength of prisoners at the date of this report, as shown by the journal kept by the prisoner, was about fourteen thou- sand. Thus we see that the sufferings at Andersonville were anticipated as early as May, and the Rebel Government duly warned. Of that question, however, hereafter. Without pretending to analyze the evidence of each particular medical gentleman who has testified upon this subject, as they all concur in the general facts in relation to the condition of the stockade, I select the report of one of til e most intelligent of their number, quoting him somewhat fully. The gentleman who speaks tlirough the report I am about to give, is Dr. Joseph Jones, Pro- fessor of Chemistry in the Medical College of Georgia, a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, and a man of eminence in his profession. He went to Anderson- ville under the direction of the surgeon general of the Confederacy, pursuant to an , order dated Richmond, 184 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; Virginia, August 6th, 1864, in which the surgeon general uses the following language : "The field of pathological investigation aiforded by the large collection of Federal prisoners in Georgia is of great extent and importance, and it is believed that re- sults of value to the profession may be obtained by a careful investigation of the effects of disease upon the large body of men subjected to a decided change of cli- mate, and the circumstances peculiar to prison life" (Record, pp. 4324 and 4325.) From this it will be seen there was authority from a high source for his proceed- ings, certifying a knowledge of the condition of things at Anderson ville, in the surgeon general's ofiice, if it does not especially commend the humanity of that ofiice. After making some remarks in regard to the charac- ter of the soil, the internal structure of the hills, and so forth, Dr. Jones proceeds to give a table illustrating the mean strength of prisoners confined in the stockade from its organization, February 24, 1864, to September, 1864. This computation, I may remark, is only approxi- mately accurate, and is arrived at by adding together the number of prisoners at the first, middle, and the last of each month, and dividing the result by three. His table, however, shows the following as the mean result : March 7,500 April 10,000 May 15,000 June 22,291 July 29,030 August 32,899 He says : "Within the circumscribed area of the stock- ade the Federal prisoners were compelled to perform all the of&ces of life, cooking, washing, urinating, defeca- OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIIS^E OF FLORENCE. 185 fioiL exercise, and sleeping The Fed- eral prisoners were gathered from all parts of the Con- federate States east of the Mississippi, and crowded in the confined space, until, in the month of June, the average number of square feet of ground to each pri- soner was only 33.2, or less than four square yards" (Record, p. 4331.) "The figures," he says, "represent the condition of the stockade in a better light even than it really was, for a considerable breadth of land along the stream flowing from west to east, between the hills, was low and boggy, and was covered with the excrement of the men, and thus rendered wholly uninhabitable, and, in fact, useless for every purpose except that of defecation ' ' (Record, pp. 4331 and 4332.) It will be remembered that besides this swamp must be excluded the space between the dead line and the stockade, which, together with the bog, must be taken from the whole area. Colonel Chandler, in his ofiicial report, makes a computation showing that the actual space allowed to each prisoner was only six square feet, there being scarcely room for the prisoners all to lie down at the same time. Dr. Jones' s report continues : "With their characteristic industry and ingenuity, the Federals constructed for themselves small' huts and caves, and attempted to shield themselves from the rain, and sun, and night-damps, and dew. But few tents were distributed to the prisoners, and those were in most cases torn and rotten. In the location and arrangement of these tents and huts, no order appears to have been followed ; in fact, regular streets appeared to be out of the question in so crowded an area, especially, too, as large bodies of prisoners were from time to time added 24 186 SOUTHERN PRISOTSrS ; suddenly, withont any previous preparation The police and internal economy of the prison was left almost entirely in the hands of the prisoners themselves, the duties of the Confederate soldiers acting as guards being limited to the occupation of the boxes or look- outs arranged around the stockade at regular intervals, and to the manning of the batteries at the angles of the prison" (Record, pp. 4333 and 4334.) Again: " Even judicial matters pertaining to them- selves, as the detection and punishment of such crimes as theft and murder, appear to have been in a great measure abandoned to the prisoners. A striking in- stance of this occurred in the month of July, when the Federal prisoners within the stockade, tried, condemned, and hanged six of their own number who had been con- victed of cheating, and of robbing and murdering their fellow prisoners. They were all hung upon the same day, and thousands of prisoners gathered around to wit- ness the execution. The Confederate authorities are said not to have interfered with these proceedings. "The large number of men confined within the stock- ade, soon, under a defective system of police, and with imperfect arrangements, covered the surface of the low grounds with excrement. The sinks over the lower portions of the stream were imperfect in their plan and structure, and the excrement was in large measure de- posited so near the borders of the stream as not to be washed away, or else accumulated upon the low boggy ground. The volume of water was not sufficient to wash away the faeces, and they accumulated in such quanti- ties in the lower portion of the stream as to form a mass of liquid excrement. "Heavy rains caused the waters of the stream to rise, OIS, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OE FLORENCE. 187 ancL, as the arrangements for the passage of the increased amounts of water ont of the stockade were insuihcient, the liquid faeces overflowed the low grounds, and covered them several inches after the subsidence of the waters. "The action of the sun upon this putrefying mass of excrement, and fragments of bread, and meat, and bones, excited most rapid fermentation, and developed a hor- rible stench. Improvements were projected for the re- moval of the filth, and for the prevention of its accumu- lation, but they were only partially and imperfectly car- ried out. " As the forces of the prisoners were reduced by con- finement, want of exercise, improper diet, and by scurvy, diarrhoea, and dysentery, they were unable to evacuate their bowels within the stream or along its banks, and the excrement was deposited at the very doors of their tents. " The vast majority appeared to lose all repulsion to filth, and both sick and well disregarded all the laws of hygiene and personal cleanliness. "The accommodations of the sick were imperfect and insufficient" (Record, pages 4333, 4334, 4335, 4336). Again he says : "Each day the dead from the stockade were carried out by their fellow prisoners, and deposited upon the ground under a bush arbor, just outside of the southwestern gate. From thence they were carried in carts to the burying ground, one -quarter of a mile north- west of the prison. The dead were buried without cof- fins, side by side, in trenches four feet deep. " The low grounds bordering the stream were covered with human excrement and filth of all kinds, which in many cases appeared to be alive ^vith working maggots. "An indescribable sickening stench arose from the 188 SOUTHEKN PKISOlvrs ; fermenting mass of human dung and filth" (Record, p. 4339). And again: "There were nearly five thousand seri- ously-Lll Federals in the stockade and Confederate States Military Prison Hospital, and the deaths exceeded one hundred per day ; and large numbers of the prisoners, who were walking about, and who had not been entered upon the sick report, were suffering from severe and incurable diarrhoea, dysentery, and scurvy. ... I visited two thousand sick within the stockade, lying under some long sheds which they had built at the northern portion for themselves. At this time only one medical officer was in attendance, whereas at least twenty medical officers should have been employed" (Record, pp. 4340 and 4341). By comparing two very interesting tables of statistics given in this connection by Dr. Jones, it wiU be observed that, although the number of sick in the stockade was the same as that in the hosj)ital, while the number of sur- geons in attendance in the stockade was greatly below that in the hospital, the deaths occurring were about the same in each ; or, in other words, the prisoners died as rapidly with treatment as without it. This is confirmed by the opinions of several surgeons, among them Dr. Roy, Flewellen, Head, Rice, and others, who have stated that medicines were of little use, and that more could have been done by dieting. Again Dr. Jones says : ' ' Scurvy, diarrhoea, dysentery, and hospital gangrene were the prevailing diseases. 1 was surprised to find but few cases of malarial fever, and no weU-marked cases of typhus or typhoid fever. The absence of the different forms of malarial fever may be accounted for in the supposition that the artificial atmos- OR, JOSIE, THE HEROII^E OF FLORENCE. 18? phere of the stockade, crowded densely with human beings and loaded with animal exhalations, was unfavor- able to the existence and action of the malarial poison. The absence of typhoid and typhus fevers among all the causes which are supposed to ^-enerate these diseases appeared to be due to the fact that the great majority of these prisoners had been in captivity in Virginia, at Belle Island, and in other parts of the Confederacy for months, and even as long as two years, and during this time they had been subjected to the same bad influences, and those who had not had these fevers before, either had them during their confinement in Confederate prisons, or else their systems, from long exposure, were proof against their action" (Record, p. 4343). A most striking fact is here presented, which illus- trates, perhaps, in as strong a light as is possible, the ter- rible condition of our prisoners. The report shows that, in a region of country favorable to malarial fevers, per- sons lying in the open air, on the border of a swamp, without shelter, drinking unwholesome water — in short, with every surrounding conducive to malaria, still the poison of that atmosphere, made so by peculiar circum- stances, overcame all those influences, and rendered the place comparatively free from fevers of a malarial nature. After describing at some length the effects of scurvy and hospital gangrene, the report proceeds : "The long- use of salt meat, oftentimes imperfectly cured, as well as the almost total deprivation of vegetables and fruit, ap- peared to be the chief causes of the scurvy. "I carefully examined the bakery and the bread fur- nished the prisoners, and found that they were supplied almost entirely with corn bread, from which the husk 190 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; had not been separated. This husk acted as an irritant to the alimentary canal, without adding rny nutriment to the bread" (Record, p. 4346). After speaking of the sheds used for the sick in the stockade, which were open on all sides, he says : "The sick lay upon the bare boards, or upon such ragged blankets as they possessed, without, as far as I observed, any bedding or even straw. Pits for the reception ol faeces were dug within a few feet of the lower floor, and they were almost never unoccupied by those suffering with diarrhoea. The haggard, distressed countenances of these miserable, complaining, dejected living skele- tons, crying for medical aid and food, .... and the ghastly corpses, with their glazed eyeballs staring up into vacant space, with the flies swarming down their open and grinning mouths, and over their ragged clothes, infested with numerous lice, as they lay among the sick and dying, formed a picture of helpless, hopeless mis- ery which it would be impossible to portray by words or by the brush" (Record, p. 4348). It would hardly seem necessary, if indeed it were pos- sible, to add coloring to the picture here drawn, I can not refrain, however, from noticing farther the condition of these prisoners, as we learn it from the same class of testimony. Dr. Amos Thornburg, a rebel surgeon on duty at Andersonville, from the 14th of April until the prison was finally broken up, fully confirms every thing said by Dr. Jones. After speaking of the terrible mor- tality among the prisoners, and in reply to the question, "To what do you attribute it ?" he says, "I attribute it to the want of proper diet ; the crowding together of too many men in the prison and in the hospital ; the lack of shelter and fuel, and consequent exposure. While I OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIN K OF FLORENCE. 191 prescribed at the stockade, after tlie hospital was moved outside, the number of sick who couid not be admitted into the hospital became so great that we were compelled to practice by formulas for different diseases, numbering so that, instead of a prescription, a patient was told to use No.—" (Record, p. 2321). Manifestly improper as this method of treating dis- eases must appear to every one, it did not escape the criticism of the more conscientious even of those at Andersonville. Dr. Head, persisting in giving a pre- scription in each case, as he thought his duty as a con- scientious physician required, and not willing to accept a number prepared for all stages of any one disease, was told, on asking why he could not be permitted to pursue the safe course, "That he was not to practice in that way ; that he had to practice according to the formulas and numbers that they had" (Record, p. 2500). In reply to the question, ' ' Why did you object to it ? " he says,, "Because I could not prescribe properly for my patients, I looked upon it as utter quackery ; any body, whether he had ever read medicine or not, could practice according to the formulas. It was often doubt- ful whether a prescription would suit a case in its pre- sent condition. The doctors, however, had to take that or nothing." Dr. G. L. B. Rice, another surgeon on duty there, speaking on the same point, says : "I commenced pre- scribing as I had been in the habit of doing at home, but was informed that I would not be allowed to do that. I was handed a lot of formulas and numbers from one up to a certain point, and we had to use those. My opinion was that we could do very little good with that kind of prescription. It was very unsafe practice. I knew 192 SOUTHERN PRISONS; nothing about the ingredients in them, and had no means of knowing it ; I made complaints, but the chief surgeon would not allow a change" (Record, p. 3604). The testimony of Dr. Thornburg, and other surgeons who prescribed at the stockade, shows that after the hos- pital was moved outside, patients were not treated in the stockade at all, but only those who were able to crowd their way through that living mass to the south gate, or could induce their companions to carry them there, or as happened in rare instances, could have medicines sent in to them, received any medical attendance what- ever. Hundreds and thousands, as appears from the concurrent testimony of all the witnesses, sickened, languished, and died in that terrible place, without any medical attendance whatever. Horrible as this may appear, the hospital register bears indubitable proof of its truth. Let me, in this connection, refer to an exhibit show- ing certain computation made from that register. The phrase "died in quarters" in the column of remarks, Dr. Thornburg says, describes those cases just alluded to, and they are shown to have amounted to the fright- ful number of 3727. These dead, as we learn from Dr. Thornburg' s testi- mony, after being brought out, were examined, and, as far as possible, the diseases from which they died were entered, on the hospital register for a purpose so diaboli- cal, that one shudders at the thought, and which I shall hereafter notice. Others, the causes of whose deaths could not even be guessed at, or, as Dr. Jones describes it, morhi'Darii, were marked on the register "unknown." Prisoners would often die on their way to the sick-gate, or while waiting their turns at the gate, or on the way OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 193 from the gate to the hospital ; and although in some cases such men might have been prescribed for, they could not afterward be identified, but Lad to be carried to the grave-yard, and buried among the nameless. To prevent, if possible, this utter annihilation of memory, ^lame and fame. Dr. Thornburg instituted syste^ vf pla cards, by which he sought to prevent, if posslbie, this reckless wiping out of all traces of the dead, and which prevented its occurrence, he thinks, after June, 1864 ; but there had already gone to their last home, as Captain Moore, who reinterred the dead at Andersonville, tells us, four hundred and fifty-one of our brave soldiers. Who they are the Andersonville register tells not, but there is a register where they are all recorded in letters of light, and one by one will these unknown rise in judgment against those who are responsible for their deaths. Another frightful feature brought out by the testi- mony of Dr. Thornburg and others, and confirmed by nearly every soldier who testified before this court, is this, that only the worst cases were allowed to enter the hospital ; and so closely was the line drawn discrimina- ting against these supplicants, that often prisoners whc had been refused admission into the hospital died or their way back to their quarters. I will not stop now. ai 1 am not inquiring into the responsibility of parties, M notice the inefiable cruelty of compelling the sick to remain in the stockade until they were in a dying con- dition, as some of the witnesses say, before they were eligible to a space as large as their own persons in what was falsely termed a hospital. Nor did the rigors and sufferings of this prison cease till its very close. Their shelter continued the same- no more ; while the treatment in and out of the stockade 194 SOUTHERN PKISOIS'S ; was not perceptibly better. From a temperature rang- ing during the summer up to near ISC^ Fahrenheit in the sun, as Dr. Thornburg tells you, during which ther^ were many cases of sun-stroke, it fell in the winter to a temperature much below the freezing point, nothing be- ing left these miserable creatures with which to resist the inclemency of the weather but diseased and emaci- ated bodies, and ragged, worn-out clothing. Dr. Thorn- burg says that during the winter there was weather suffi- ciently severe to have frozen to death men with the scanty supplies these prisoners had, and in their emaciated condition ; and Dr. Eice, after stating that the prisoners were exposed more or less during the whole winter, says, "I knew a great many to die there who I believed died from hunger and starvation, and from cold and exposure" (Record, p. 2696). This is more than con- firmed also by Dr. Bates (Record, p. 164) And to the eternal infamy of the man who registered it, and of the heartless wretches who caused it, let it be spread before the world that on the hospital register there ap- pears this entry: "T. Gerrity, 106th Penns3"lvania, frozen to death ; admitted January 3d ; died January 3d — died in the stockade ; " showing that he not only froze to death in the stockade without medical treat- ment and without shelter, but that he was admitted into the hospital after death for a purDOse which I shall hereafter show. Wishing only to get at the truth of these things, and desirous particularly that the parties responsible shall be judged, as far as possible, out of their own mouths, I must trespass upon the patience of the court for a moment to notice the evidence of Dr. Gr. G. Roy, a rebel surgeon who was on duty from the 1st of September OE, JOSIE, THE HEKOrNE OF FLOKETJ^CE. 195 until the close of the prison. In response to the question, "What was the condition of the men sent to the hospi- tal from the stockade ? Describe their diseases and ap- perance," he says, " They presented the most horrible spectacle of humanity that I ever saw in my life : a good many were suffering from scurvy and other diseases ; a good many were naked ; a large majority barefooted ; a good many without hats ; their condition generally was almost indescribable." And he goes on to say, "I at- tribute this condition to long confinement, want of the necessaries and comforts of life, and all those causes that are calculated to produce that condition of the sys- tem where there is just vitality enough to permit one to live. The prisoners were too densely crowded ; there was no shelter, except such as they constructed them- selves, which was very insufficient ; a good many were in holes in the earth, with their blankets thrown over them ; a good many had a blanket or oil-cloth drawn over poles ; some were in tents constructed by their own ingenuity, and with just such accommodations as their own ingenuity permitted them to contrive ; there were, you may say, no accommodations made for them in the stockade" (Record, pp. 485 and 486). Speaking of the east side of the stockade, along the stream, he says, "It is composed of marsh, and was blocked with trees which had been cut down, acting as an obstruction to all deleterious animal and vegetable matter that passed after heavy weather through this stream ; it accumulated and became very noxious, and was a very fruitful source of malaria." He then speaks of the large quantities of insects and vermin which resulted from a decay of animal or vege- table matter, and to such an extent was this place a 196 souTHEEisr PRISONS ; breeder of insects, that lie says musquitoes — rarely lieard of in tliat vicinity — so filled the air ' that it was dangerous for a man to open his month after sundown.' He speaks also of the multitude of fleas there, and says ' the fleas were as bad as musquitoes, and several weeks after the evacuation of the stockade they emigrated, and came up to the private houses in the vicinity, so that the occupants had to leave on account of them.' When we remember the facts brought out in such bold relief by the elaborate report of Dr. Jones as to the effect of slight abrasions of the skin on men under the peculiar condition of body that most of these prisoners labored under, it would seem to have been almost useless for them to have attempted to resist the destroyer. Far- ther along in his testimony Dr. Roy says, ' This marshy place I spoke of was just in the rear of the hospital, and the winds, of course, blew the odors from there across the hospital, and it was not until late in the winter, if at all, that any attempt was made to drain it.' Still pur- suing our inquiries in this direction, I desire to quote from a report made by Dr. G. S. Hopkins and Surgeon H. E.Watkins, addressed to General Winder, and which was made pursuant to his suggestion, as embracing in a concise form many of the causes of the disease and mor- tality at Andersonville. CAUSES OF DISEASE AND MORTALITY. "1st. The large number of prisoners crowded to- gether. ' ' 2d. The entire absence of all vegetables as diet, so necessary as a preventive of scurvy. "3d. The want of barracks to shelter the prisoners from sun and rain. OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 191 ''4th. The inadequate supply of wood and good //ater. "5th. Badly cooked food. "6th. The filthy condition of the prisoners and pris- on generally. "7th. The morbific emanations from the branch or ravine passing through the prison, the condition of which can not be better explained than by naming it a morass of human excrement and mud." PREVENTIVE MEASURES. "1st. The removal immediately from the prison of not less than 15,000 prisoners. 2d. Detail on parole a sufficient number of prisoners to cultivate the necessary supply of vegetables ; and, until this can be carried into practical operation, the appointment of agents along the different lines of rail- road to purchase and forward a supply. 3d. The immediate erection of barracks to shelter the prisoners. "4th. To furnish the necessary quantity of wood, and have wells dug to supply the deficiency of water. "5th. Divide the prisoners into squads ; place each squad under the charge of a sergeant ; furnish the nec- essary quantity of soap, and hold these sergeants respon- sible for the personal cleanliness of his squad ; furnish the prisoners with clothing at the expense of the Con- federate, and, if that government be unable fo do so, candidly admit our inability, and call upon the Federal government to furnish them. " 6th. By a daily inspection of bake-house and baking. "7th. Cover over with sand from the hill-sides the 198 SOUTHERN PEISOi?f« , entire morass, not less than six inches deep ; board the stream or water- course, and confine the men to the use of the sinks, and make the penalty for the disobedience of such orders severe." I will not stop now to notice with what flippancy and recklessness the practical suggestions made by these surgeons were put aside and totally disregarded both by General Winder and Chief Surgeon White. I can hardly think that farther proof, inasmuch as the proof is already made cumulative from this class of wit- nesses, is needed. There have been examined, with re- gard to the condition of the stockade and hospital, over seventy witnesses, and an examination of their testimony will, as I before stated, show a complete and perfect con- currence. Referring back to Dr. Pilot's daily report to inquire whether it was impossible to supply proper food for the patients in those wards which he tersely characterizes as "wild with gangrene," we take the testimony of Uriah B. Harrold, a commissary of the Confederate Government stationed at Americus, and who was in court with his "abstracts of shipments of pro visions to Andersonville," on the requisition of the proper authorities there. In the month of July he shipped to that place as fol- lows : Bacon 102,000 lbs. Meal 63,000 bush. Flour 1,200 sacks. In August : Bacon 113,000 lbs. Meal 90,000 bush. Flour 1,000 sacks. Eice 14,000 lbs. Sirup 94 bbls. Whisky 15 " Rice 10,000 lbs. Sirup 131 bbls. Whisky 20 " OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 199 In September : Bacon 124,000 lbs. i Rice 6,000 lbs. Meal TO, 000 bush. I Sirup 150 bbls. Flour 1,500 sacks. I Whisky 30 " These shipments were made by but one commissary,-^ it will be remembered, while there were fifty others to answer any requisitions upon them from the officials at Andersonville for the supply of that post and prison. The commissary stores at Albany, fifty miles from Ander- sonville, it was shown, were much larger than at Amer- icus, and the warehouses there were literally breaking down from the weight and quantity of stores assembled there. The commissaries at other points, near and easily accessible to Andersonville, were continually sending supplies to that point, as the requisitions were made upon them. The stores shipped from Americus alone will be seen to have been amply sufficient for the alleviation of that want, which all of the surgeons were daily deploring, if they had been properly applied to the purposes for which they were intended. The article of rice amounted to thirty thousand pounds in ninety days, or more than three hundred pounds for each day ; the flour, estimating the three thousand seven hundred sacks at fifty pounds each, would make over two thousand pounds for each day for the same period ; the sirup, rating the three hundred and seventy -five barrels at forty gallons each, would have afforded more than twenty pints per day ; and the whisky would give more than three hundred pints per day for the use of the patients in the hospitals. From these facts it may fairly be gathered that there was no want of supplies in the country ; and the ques- 200 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; tion arises, What was done with those that were sent to Andersonville ? The testimony of Dykes will go far to clear up one branch of this inquiry. He said that " he knew James W. Duncan, who was in charge of the bakery and cook-house, and who was also a detective under Winder. He offered to sell me some sirup, ten barrels at one time, and said that Bowers, another de- tective, would show it or bring it to me. He told me that he had a large lot of Hour which he wanted me to sell for him." The question very naturally arises why the person sent by General Cobb to "inquire into the condition and treatment of the patients" in this hospital did not perform his duty, and ascertain from the means within his reach facts so accessible ? If stimulants were re- quired, why did he not ask the simple question if a requisition had been made for them? He very well knew that there were five distilleries in the county of Sumter alone, working under special contract with the government, a portion of whose produce must go to its agents, to be dealt out, on requisition, for hospital pur- poses. If the requisition had or had not been complied with, it was his duty to have reported the fact to his superior. In the same way he could have ascertained why no hour, or rice, or sirup was provided, for the means of doing so were within reach, and his duty was plain. The truth is, that during the whole rebellion, self- interest and self-aggrandizement, with a proportional display of official consequence, shining in buttons and lace, or riding on blooded horses, monopolized the time and thoughts of most of those in authority, and espe- OE, JOSIE, THE HEROIlsrE OF FLORENCE. 201 cially those who were removed from the dangers of the front. The starvation, the suffering, hideous, horrible enough to awaken a cry that reached from one end of the Con- federacy to the other, was not sufficient to turn from frivolous pleasure those to whom important interests had been committed, and whose duties, properly per- formed might have mitigated the horrors which will al- ways rest upon the civilization of the country as one of the foulest blots that history records. Favoritism, nepotism, every influence that could be brought to bear to advance personal interests, were ram- pant, while due performance of duty was the exception to the reigning rule. While men rotted with gangrene, the surgeon was drinking the whisky intended to keep up life ; while the scurvy loosened the teeth and decay- ed the bones of its victim, the rice and flour provided for his nourishment were made up into puddings for the delectation of the surgeon' s visitors ; and when a cool- ing food or drink was needed for the fevered patient, the baker was engaged in selling the sirup which would have afforded it. And so, robbed, starved, polluted by disease, denied even straw to lie upon, rolling in a filth which was re- pugnant even to a negro' s notions of cleanliness — after due examination of such patients and their condition, the commanding general of the district reported, from information of one of his subordinates, that every thing had been accomplished which could be done for the comfort and medical care of the prisoners — that nothing is required more than has been provided for the treat- ment of patients, and that the medical director deserves especial thanks for the energy he has displayed in or- 26 202 SOUTHEKN PRISONS ; ganizing and providing tlie necessary requisites of med- icines and hospital essentials ! After this, what could be done for the wretched vic- tims of a policy which seemed premeditated, and which, if continued, would make corpses of the last one of them? And this place, where sick and wounded men festered in their filth and degradation, was to be continued in the condition and under the auspices it was, and the whisky was to be drank, the money embezzled, the rice and flour to be made into puddings, and the sirup sold, to the everlasting shame of those concerned, and to the detriment of the fair fame of the South, its chivalry and its humanity. In July there seems to have been some correspond- ence between the rebel adjutant general and General Winder, who was then on duty at Andersonville. From a letter written by General Winder to Adjutant General Cooper, dated July 21st (see Exhibit No. 17), I extract the following: "You speak in your endorsement of placing the prisoners properly. I do not comprehend what is intended by it. I know of but one way to |)lace them, and that is to put them in the stockade, where they have between four and five square yards to the man. This includes streets, and two acres of ground about the stream." It will be observed that General "Winder was very careful not to mention the strip twenty feet wide cut off by the "dead line." At the close of this month, from what motive we can only conjecture, Colonel D, T. Chandler, of the Eebel War Department, was sent to inspect the prison at Andersonville, and on the 5th of August, 1864, he made a fall report. This report is no OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 20S stronger than others from which we have already quoted, but, as it is destined to figure extensively in this case at other points in the argument, I beg to make a few ex- tracts from it. He says : "A small stream passes from west to east through the inclosure, furnishing the only water for washing accessible to the prisoners. Some regiments of the guard, the bakery, and the cook-house being placed on rising ground bordering the stream before it enters the prison, renders the water nearly unfit for use before it reaches the prisoners From thirty to fifty yards on each side of the stream the ground is a muddy marsh, totally unfit for occupation ; being constantly used as a sink since the prison was first established, it is now in a shocking condition, and cannot fail to breed pestilence. No shelter whatever, nor materials for con- structing any, have been provided by the prison author- ities, and the ground being entirely bare of trees, none is within the reach of the prisoners." Again "The whole number of prisoners is divided into messes of two hundred and seventy, and subdivi- sions of ninety men, each under a sergeant of their own number ; and but one Confederate States officer. Captain Wirtz, is assigned to the supervision and control of the whole. In consequence of these facts, and the absence of all regularity in the prison grounds, and there being no barracks or tents, there are and can be no regulations established for the police, consideration for the health, comfort, and sanitary condition of those within the in- closure, and none are practicable under existing circum- stances There is no medical attendance fur- nished within the stockade." He says farther: "Many — twenty yesterday — are 204 SOUTHEEIN^ PEISOI!f S ; carted out daily who have died from unknown causes, and whom the medical officers have never seen. The dead are hauled out daily by wagon-loads, and buried without coffins, their hands in many instances being first mutilated with an axe in removal of any finger-ring they may have. The sanitary condition of the prisoners is as wretched as can be, the principal causes of mortality being scurvy and chronic diarrhoea, the percentage of the former being disproportionately large among those brought from Belle Island. Nothing seems to have been done, and but little, if any eflTort made to arrest it by procuring proper food Raw rations have been issued to a very large proportion who are entirely un- provided with proper utensils, and furnished with so limited a supply of fuel that they are compelled to dig with their hands in the filthy marsh before mentioned for roots, etc." Surgeon Isaiah H. White, chief surgeon at the prison, in a report to Colonel Chandler, which was made an inclosure of his report to Richmond, says : "The lack of barrack accommodations exposes the men to the heat of the san by day and the dews by night, and is a prolific source of disease The point of exit of the stream through the wall of the stock- ade is not sufficiently bold as to permit the free passage of ordure when the stream is swollen by rains. The lower portion of this bottom-land is overflowed by a solution of excrement, which subsiding, and the surface exposed to the sun, produce a horrible stench." EVIDENCE OF REBEL OFFICERS AND SOLDIERS. I now turn to the evidence of rebel officers and sol- diers on duty at Andersonville. OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 205 Colonel Alexander W. Persons, of the rebel army, the first commandant of the post, who remained there until the latter part of May, says that after he was re- lieved he returned there again and drew a bill for an injunction, and when called upon to explain for what reason, replied, "To abate a nuisance: the grave-yard made it a nuisance ; the prison generally was a nuisance from the intolerable stench, the effluvia, the malaria that it gave up, and things of that sort." The view here presented must strike the court as graphic indeed, when, without the question of humanity or inhumanity involved, persons living in the vicinity of Anderson ville could gravely begin a legal proceeding to abate the prison as a nuisance on the ground mainly that the effluvia arising from it was intolerable ! Colonel George C. Gibbs, who afterward commanded the post, gives evidence on this point no less important. He was assigned to duty in October, 1864, and although the number at that time was greatly diminished, he speaks of the prisoners being badly ofi" for clothing and shelter, and in other respects destitute. Prior to this time — some time in July— he had visited the stockade, and he uses this language in regard to its appearance then: "I rode around it on three sides, I think, and could see into it from the batteries that commanded it. I never saw so many men together in the same sjDace before ; it had more the appearance of an ant-hill than anything else I can compare it to" (Record, p. 84). Nazareth Allen, a rebel soldier on duty at Anderson - ville during the summer of 1864, fully corroborates these opinions ; and farther, in relation to the location 206 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; of troops above the stockade, and its effects upon the prisoners, says: "The cook-lionse was above the stockade, and a good deal of washing was done up the branch, consequently a great deal of filth went down. Some of the troops were encamped on the stream above, on the side of the hill, and the rain would wash the filth of the camps and sinks into the stream, which would carry it to the stockade. I have seen the prisoners using it when it was in this filthy condition The stench was very bad. I have smelt it when I was at our picket camps, about a mile in a straight line. It was so bad that it kept me sick pretty nearly all the time I was around the stockade. The soldiers preferred picket duty to sentry duty on that account." William Williams, another rebel soldier on duty at the time, fully confirms this. He was on duty both on parapet and on picket, and had opportunity of observa- tion. In reply to a question as to the condition of the stockade, he says : ' ' It was as nasty as a place could be. On one occasion I saw a man lying there who had not clothes enough on him to hide his nakedness. His hip bones were worn away. He had put up two sticks, and fastened his coat over them, to keep the sun off his face. There were a good many lying down sick, and others waiting on them. The crowded state of the men and the filthiness of the place created a very bad odor. I have smelt it at the depot, about a mile from the stockade" (Record, p. 801). Again he says : "The stream that passed through the stockade ran down between the 1st and 2d Georgia regi- ments and Furlow's battalion, and passed the bake- OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOEENCE. 207 house. All the washings from the bake-house went right through the stockade, and also the washings from the camps. The pits used by the men were not five feet from the stream. Sometimes when it was rainy, it was thick with mud and filth from the drainings of the camps inside the stockade " Calvin Honeycutt, another rebel soldier, on duty from April, 1864, to April, 1865, who was on duty on the stockade, and also on picket, coi-roborates the testimony of his comrades. James Mohan, a rehel private, afterward made a lieu- tenant, who was on duty at Andersonville for about, five months during the summer of 1864. gives similar testi- mony ; and John F. Heath, regimental commissary with the rank of captain, on duty from May to October, 1864, fully confirms the testimony upon this point already given. EVIDENCE OF RESIDENTS OF GEORGIA. Samuel Hall, a prominent gentleman residing in Ma- con, Georgia, whose sympathies, he tells us, were from the beginning with the rebellion, and who held a high civil official position, says, "When first I saw it, (the prison) in the month of August, it was literally crammed and packed ; there was scarcely room for locomotion ; it was destitute of shelter, as well as I could judge, and at that time there was a great mortality among the prisoners" (Record, p. 864). Rev. William John Hamilton also gives important testimony as to the condition of the stockade, which he visited in the capacity of a priest. He was there in May, and at different periods subsequently. He says : "I found the stockade extremely crowded, with a great deal of sickness and suffering among the men. 1 208 SOUTHEKIS^ PKISONS; was kept so busy administering the sacrament to the dying, that I had to curtail a great deal of the service that Catholic priests administer to the dying ; they died so fast, I waited only upon those of our own Church, and do not include others among the dying. . . The stockade was extremely filthy, the men all huddled together and covered with vermin. The best idea I can give the court of the condition of the place is perhaps this : I went in there with a white linen coat on, and I had not been in there more than ten minutes or a quar- ter of an hour, when a gentleman drew my attention to the condition of my coat ; it was all covered over with vermin, and I had to take it off and leave it with one of the guards, and perform my duties in my shirt- sleeves, the place was so filthy " (Kecord, p. 1969). Again, giving an illustration of the sufferings of the prisoners, and especially of the intense heat of the sun, he says, ' ' I found a boy not more than sixteen years old, who came to me for spiritual comfort, without jacket or coat, or any covering on his feet, suffering very much from a wound in his right foot. The foot was split open like an oyster, and on inquiring the cause, I was told it was from exposure to the sun in the stockade, and not from any wound received in battle. On return- ing to the stockade a w-eek afterward, I learned that he stepped across the dead line and requested the guard to shoot him. ... He had no medical treatment, nor had any others, so far as I could see, to whom I admin- istered the sacrament in the stockade." Again he says : ' ' On my second visit, I was told there was an Irishman at the extreme end of the stock- ade who was calling out for a priest. ... I tried to cross the branch to reach him, but was unable to do so, OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOIT^E OF FLORENCE. 209 as the men were all crowding aronnd there, trying to get into the water to cool themselves and wash them- selves, and I had to leave the stockade without seeing the man. . . . The heat was intolerable. There was no air at all in the stockade. The logs of which the stockade was composed were so close together that I could not feel any fresh air inside, and with a strong sun beaming down upon it, and no shelter at all, of course the heat must have been insufferable, at least I %lt it so. The priests who went there after me, while ildministering the sacrament to the dying, had to use an umbrella, the heat was so intense" (Record, p. 1981). Ambrose Spencer, a gentleman of prominence in his State, residing near Andersonville during the war, and a frequent visitor to that place, gives us a graphic pic- ture of the prison, which I cannot refrain from quoting. He says, "I had frequent opportunities of seeing the condition of the prisoners, not only from the adjacent hills, but on several occasions from the outside of the stockade, where the sentiners grounds were." And in reply to a question asking him to describe the condition of the prisoners, he says, "I can only answer the question by saying that theii- condition was as wretched as well could be conceived, not only from exposure to the sun, the inclemency of the weather, and the cold of winter, but from the filth— from the absolute degradation which was evident in their condition. I have seen that stockade after three or four days' rain, when the mud, I should think, was at least twelve inches deep. The prisoners were walking or wading through that mud. . . . The condition of the stockade can perhaps be expressed most accurately by saying that in passing up and down the railroad, if the wind was 27 210 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; favorable, the odor of the stockade could be detected at least two miles" (Record, p. 2455). There are others of this class who testify upon this point, but it would seem useless to give further extracts. It is not my purpose, in this connection, to enter into a detail of the sufferings, the acts of cruelty inflicted, and the inhuman treatment they received, or to inquire by whom these things were done. Reserving that for its proper place in the argument, I shall simply refer to this testimony to assist us in ascertaining more certainly the horrors to which these brave men were subjected. Dr. A. W. Barrows, hospital steward of the 27th Massachusetts regiment, and acting assistant post sur- geon at Plymouth, North Carolina, arrived at Ander- sonville on the 28th of May, and remained there six months. Owing to his knowledge of medicine and effi- ciency, he was paroled as a prisoner, and assigned to duty in the hospital. His testimony is important, as showing the condition of the hospital mainly ; but he has also given some material evidence with regard to the stockade, and from it I make the following extract : "I remember when there have been as many as sev- enty-five to one hundred who died during the day in the stockade, and who were never taken to the hospital. That was in the month of August." Robert H. Kellogg entered the prison on the 3d of May, 1864, and remained there until the following Sep- tember. He says : "We found the men in the stockade ragged, nearly destitute of clothing, totally unprovided with shelter, except that which tattered blankets could afford. They looked nearly starved. They were skeletons covered with skin. The prison seemed very crowded to us, OE, JOSrE, THE HEEOESrE OF FLORENCE. Jll althongh there were thousands brought there after that. . . . . They were in a very filthy condition— indeed, there were but two issues of soap made while I was there. . . . When we first went there, the nights were very cold. That soon passed away as the season advanced, and during the summer it was intensely hot. There were twenty-one rainy days in the month of June. Our supply of fuel was not regular nor sufficient. We were allowed to go several times under guard, six men from a squad of ninety, to bring in what we could find in the woods on our shoulders ; but the greater part of the time we had to rely upon our supply of roots which we dug out of the ground or grubbed for in the swamp — pitch-pine roots. . . . Rations were issued raw, many times without fuel to cook them. The squad of ninety, of which I was sergeant, went from the 30th of June to the 30th of 'August without any issue of wood from the authorities" (Record, pp. 361 and 362). Again he says : "The quality of the rations was very poor ; the quantity greatly varied. There were days when we got nothing at all.. I made a note of at least two such days. . . . There were other days when we got but very little; other days enough, such as it was. When my regiment went tliere, the men were healthy. They gradually sickened, untU, I remember, one morning at roll-call, out of my ninety there were thirty -two who were not able to stand up. This resulted principally from scurvy and diarrhoea. This was on the 21st of August, a number of the men of my squad having died up to that time. The mass of the men had to depend on the brook for their water. It at many times was exceedingly filthy. I have seen it completely covered with floatirig grease, and dirt, and oflfal. After 212 SOTTTHEKN PKISO]!?^S ; the prisoners had been there some time, they dug some wells, and there were some springs along the south side of the prison, on the edge of the hill by the swamp, but the supply from that source was entirely inadequate ; they supplied the wants of a few. ... Of the four hundred men captured with me, over three hundred are dead ; they died in prison, or a few days after being paroled, and that is a larger percentage of living than there is in many regiments. The 24th New York bat- tery, which was captured at Plymouth, was nearly annihilated" (Record, p. 367). This is the simple, unvarnished narrative of perhaps as intelligent a witness as has been upon the stand. He has written a book, entitled '' Life and Death in South- ern Prisons," which has been used extensively by counsel for the accused. I do not want to burden the record with a recapitula- tion of all that these witnesses have testified to, but I think it can be safely said that not one word of Robert H. Kellogg' s has been or can be disproved. There are many of his comrades who fully confirm him, without adding any special facts that would tend to elucidate this point. These I shall omit in this connection. There are others, however, who give additional facts bearing on this subject, and I beg your indulgence while I refer to them. Boston Corbett' s testimony brings out some facts to which I first will call your attention. Speaking of the heat, he says, "It was so great that I have the marks upon my shoulders yet" (Record, p. 425). Of the brook and the swamp bordering it, he says, "It was a living mass of putrefaction and filth ; there were mag- gots there a foot deep ; any time we turned over the OE, JOSIE, THE HEKOII^E OE FLORENCE. 213 soil we could see the maggots in a living mass. I have seen the soldiers wading through it, digging for roots to use for fuel ; I have seen around the swamp the sick in great numbers, lying pretty much as soldiers lie when they are down to rest in line after a march ; in the morn- ing I could see those who had died during the night ; and in the daytime I could see them exposed to the heat of the sun, with their feet swelled to an enormous size — in many cases large gangrene sores filled with maggots and flies which they were unable to keep off ; I have seen men lay there in utter destitution, not able to help themselves, lying in their own filth. They generally chose that place (near the swamp), those who were most offensive, because others would drive them away, not wanting to be near those who had such bad sores. They chose it because of its being so near the sinks. In one case a man died there, I am satisfied, from the effects of lice ; when the clothes were taken off his body, the lice seemed as thick as the garment — a living mass." Again: "The water in the stockade was often very filthy. Sometimes it was middling clear. At times I would go to those who had wells dug ; sometimes they would give me a drink, sometimes they would not ; they used such rough language to me that I turned away parched with thirst, and drank water from the stream rather than beg it from the men who had wells" (Rec- ord, p. 437). Again: "The minds of the prisoners were in many cases so affected that the prisoners became idiotic " (Rec- ord, p. 439). On page 452 of the Record, he says, "I have taken food given me to the stream and washed the maggots from it. I have seen them in the sores of soldiers there, 214 SOUTHEEK PEISONS; and I have seen them in sncli a way that it is hardly fit to describe in this court." Too terrible for belief, as this may seem to be, it stands confirmed by at least fifty witnesses. Martin E. Hogan is a witness whom the court will remember as among the more intelligent, and at the same time truthful and candid. His observations were con- fined mainly to the hospital, but I feel impelled to make a brief extract from his testimony in regard to the stockade. He says : "At the time of my arrival there (speaking of the stockade) it was very much crowded, so much so that you could scarcely elbow your way through the crowd in any part of the camp. I noticed a great many men lying helpless on the ground, seemingly without care, without anybody to attend to them, lying in their own filth ; a great many of them calling for water ; a great many crying for food ; nobody apparently paying any heed to them ; others almost destitute of clothing, so numerous that I could not begin to say how many" (Record, p. 615). Then follows testimony similar to that of Boston Cor- bett in regard to the swamp and the vermin in it. Andrew J. Spring, who went to Andersonville in May, 1864, says that, upon entering the stockade, "I found the prisoners destitute of clothing ; I could not tell, in many cases, whether they were white men or negroes." On the 27th of the same month he was detailed for duty outside. After being outside the stockade about six weeks, he says, "I applied to the lieutenant of the guard at the gate, and gave him twelve dollars in green- backs to let me go in and stay an hour to see our boys. I went in and spent an hour inside the stockade. A OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 216 great many of the boys were very poor. They were some of my own best friends, whom I could not recog- nize till they came and shook hands with me, and made themselves known ; even then I coul^'. hardly believe they were the same men. I have seen men, acquaint- ances of mine, who would go around there, not knowing anything at all — hardly noticing anything ; I have seen men crippled up so that they had scarcely any life in them at all ; they would lie on the ground to all appear- ance dead ; I went up to several who I thought were dead, but I found they had a little life in them." James H. Da\idson (Record, p. 9364-), speaking of the condition of the stockade, says, "I have seen men who had the appearance of being starved to death. I have seen men pick up and eat undigested food that had passed through other men all through the camp. It came from men who were not able to go to the slough, and they would find it all through the camp." This, it will be remembered, is testified to by very many. Daniel W. Burringer says, "I have seen men eat undigested food that had passed through other men ; they would wash it and eat it — pick it up from the sinks" (Record, p. 1125). CONDITION OF THE HOSPITAL. It is not proposed to enter as fully into the condition of the hospital as might be done from the reports and evidence before us. Sufiicient will be given, however, to warrant the conclusion that it was very little better than that of the stockade itself; and, in view of the discrim- ination which the surgeons were directed to make in the admission of men from the stockade into the hospital, we can readily understand why the prisoners almost 216 souTHEEN prisons; nniformly bade their comrades farewell when they were taken from the stockade to the hospital. The evidence which I shall bring to yonr recollection wHl also justify the remark made by one of the surgeons, who says that it really w-as no hospital. Here also we have recourse to the official report of Dr. Joseph Jones, in which we find his remarks upon the condition of the hospital quite as lucid and elaborate as those in reference to the stockade. After speaking of the stream running through one corner of the hospital stockade, and stating that its upper portion was used for washing by the patients, and the lower portion as a sink, he remarks : "This part of the stream is a semi-fluid mass of human excrement, and offal, and filth of all kinds. This immense cess-pool, fermenting beneath the hot sun, emitted an overpowering stench. , . . North of the hospital grounds, the stream which flows through the stockade pursues its sluggish and filthy course. The exhalations from the swamp, which is loaded with the excrement of the prisoners confined in the stockade, exert their deleterious influences on the inmates of the hospital." Within the hospital inclosure, less than five acres, he says, " the patients and attendants, near two thousand, are crowded, and are but poorly supplied with old and ragged tents. A large number of them are without any bunks in the tents, and lay upon the ground, oftentimes without even a blanket. No beds or straw appear to have been furnished." The tents extended to mthin a few yards of the small stream, which, as he before obsei-ved, was used as a privy, and was loaded with excrement. OR, JOSIE, THE HEROITiTE OF FLORENCE. 217 "I observed," he says, "a large pile of corn-bread, bones, and filth of all kinds, thirty feet in diameter, and several feet in height, swarming with myriads of flies, in a vacant space near the pots used for cooking. Mil- lions of flies swarmed over everything, and covered the faces of the sleeping patients, crowded down their mouths, and deposited their maggots upon the gangren- ous wounds of the living and the mouths of the dead. Musquitoes in great numbers also infested the tents, and many of the patients were so stung by these pestiferous insects that they resembled those suffering with a slight attack of measles. The police and hygiene of the hos- pital were defective in the extreme " (Record, pp. 4350- 4351). Again: "Many of the sick were literally incrusted with dirt and filth, and covered with vermin. When a gangrene w^ound needed washing, the limb was thrust out a little from the blanket or board, or rags upon which the patient was lying, and water poured over it, and all the putrescent matter allowed to soak into the ground fioor of the tent. ... I saw the most filthy rags, w^hich had been applied several times and imper- fectly washed, used in dressing recent wounds. Where hospital gangrene was prevailing, it was impossible for any wound to escape contagion under the circumstan- ces" (Record, p. 354). Of the treatment of the dead, he says : " Tlie manner of disposing of the dead is also calculated to depress the already despondent spirits of these men. . . The dead-house is merely a frame covered with old tent-cloth and a few bushes, situated in the southwestern corner of the hospital grounds. When a patient dies, he is simply laid in the narrow street in the front of his tent, 28 218 SOUTHERlvr PRISOIN-S ; nntil he is removed by the Federal negroes detailed to carry off the dead. If a patient dies during the night, he lies there until morning ; and during the day, even, the dead were frequently allowed to remain for hours in these walks. In the dead-house the corpses lay on the bare ground, and were in most cases covered with filth and vermin" (Record, p. 43f>5). Farther on he says, " The cooking arrangements are of the most defective character. Two large iron pots, similar to those used for boiling sugar-cane, appeared to be the only cooking utensils furnished by the hospital for the cooking of near two thousand men, and the patients were dependent in a great measure on their own miserable utensils. . . . The air of the tents was foul and disagreeable in the extreme, and, in fact, the entire grounds emitted a most noxious and disgust- ing smell. I entered nearly all the tents, and carefully examined the cases of interest, and especially the cases of gangrene, during the prosecution of my pathological inquiries at Anderson ville, and therefore enjoyed every opportunity to judge correctly of the hygiene and police of the hospital " (Record, p. 4357). To show that this frightful condition of affairs did not cease after a great portion of the prisoners were removed. Dr. Jones observes: "The ratio of mortality continued to increase during September ; for, notwithstanding the removal of half the entire number of prisoners during the early portion of the month, seventeen hundred and fifty -seven deaths were registered from September 1st to the 21st, and the largest number of deaths upon any one day occurred during this month, on the 16th, viz., one hundred and nineteen. Afterward, remarking upon the causes of the great OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIU-E OF FLOKETCCE. 21& mortality among the Federal prisoners, he says, "The chief causes of death were scurvy and its results, bowel affections, and chronic and acute diarrhoea, and dysen- tery. The bowel affections appeared to have been due to the diet and habits of the patients, the depressed, de;iected state of the nervous system and moral and intellectual powers, and to the effluvia arising from decomposed animal and vegetable filth" (Record, p. 4372). He says also : ' 'Almost every amputation was followed finally by death, either from the effects of gangrene, or from the prevailing diarrhoea and dysentery So far as my observation extended, very few of the cases of amputation for gangrene recovered" (Eecord, p. 4378). The evidence of Dr. J jhn C. Bates is important as showing the condition of the hospital. He was a rebel surgeon, on duty at Andersonville from the middle of September, 1864, to the last of March, 1865, embracing a period when it is claimed the sufferings were much lighter than they had been. This, we have already seen by Dr. Jones's report, was not true, even after thousands of the prisoners had been sent away, and we shall see from the testimony of Dr. Bates that it is wholly incor- rect. He says : "Upon going to the ward to which I was assigned, I was shocked at the appearance of things. The men were lying partially nude, and dying, and lousy ; a portion of them in the sand, and others upon boards which had been stuck up on little props, pretty well crowded ; a majority of them in small tents. ... I would go to other parts of the hospital when officer of the day. The men would gather round me and ask for a bone. I would give them whatever I could find at my disposition 220 SOUTHEEN PRISONS ; without robbing others. I well knew that an appropria- tion of one ration took it from the general issue ; that when I appropriated an extra ration to one man, some one else would fall mdnus. I then fell back upon the distribution of bones. They did not presume to ask me for meat at all. So far as rations are concerned, that is the way matters went along for some time after I went there They could not be furnished with any clothing except the clothing of the dead, which was generally appropriated to the living. There was a par- tial supply of fuel, but not sufficient to keep the men warm and prolong their existence. As medical officer of the day, I made examinations beyond my own ward, and reported the condition. As a general thing, the patients were destitute, filthy, and partly naked. The clamor all the while was for something to eat ' (Record p. 125). Dr. (t. G. Roy, whose testimony was before referred to, in speaking of the hospital, says, "I found it in a very deplorable condition. There was no comfort attached to it whatever. Many of the tents were badly worn, torn, and rotten, and of course permitted the water to leak through. The patients were not furnished with bunks, or bedding, or bed clothing, or anything of that sort" (Record, p. 480). He speaks, as did all the other medical officers on duty there, of the great dearth of medicines, but also concurs with most of them in the opinion that medicine was not so much needed as proper diet ; and he confirms generally the description given by Dr. Jones. On the 26th day of September, Dr. Amos Thornburg, assistant surgeon, in a report to Dr. Stevenson, the sur- geon in charge (see Exhibit No. 30), calls special attention OE, JOSIE, THE BTEROnTE OF FLOEElJirCE. 221 to the very bad sanitary condition of the hospital. He reports ''that patients are lying on the cold ground, without bedding or blankets ; also, that we have a very scanty supply of medicines, and that the rations are not of the proper kind, and not issued in proper quantity." It is not a pleasing task to be compelled to enlarge upon this subject, for it is humiliating to humanity to know that men claiming to be civilized, boasting of a chivalry and refinement beyond all the rest of the world, could, in this nineteenth century, in this age and upon American soil, be guilty of a barbarism such as has been sketched, and which would have been a reproach to an Algerine in the palmiest days of his cruelty. The evidence is before the reader, direct and conclu- sive, for the facts of this odious guilt are equally proved as they are confessed. It will readily be supposed that, under circumstances such as have been narrated, where no regard was had for the comfort or health of the prisoners, and where the simplest and most obvious laws of hygiene were not only overlooked but most systematically disregarded, that a corresponding effect would be produced, and exhibit itself in the conduct and in the minds of the prisoners. A body of men, counted by tens of thou- sands, destitute of clothing, destitute of shelter, starving, unrestrained by any authority beyond what was requisite to keep them penned up, except their own unregulated impulses, could not be herded together for any great length of time without manifesting some of the very worst features of human nature, and rapidly retrograde to the normal condition of the species, and display all the characteristics of savages. Such, indeed, was the effect produced by the treat- 222 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; ment of these prisoners at Andersonville. The daily, hourly degradation to which they were forced ; the withdrawal or withholding of all moral restraint; the filthy, groveling life whi^h they led, nncheered by one solitary hope of amendment, slowly sunk them deeper and deeper into despondency, turned their manhood into apathy, and debased their courage into brutality. They were converted into so many wild beasts, and each was animated but by one purpose — sought to accomplish but one object— prolonging their miserable lives by prey- ing upon their comrades in misfortune. All of the restraints that education and moral train- ing had thrown around them were swept away, conscience swung loose from its hold on responsibility, and they acted as if there was no more human accountability to hamper the full play of every vicious tendency that might impel them. There were men confined in that stockade who had been well born and tenderly nurtured, who had enjoyed all of the kindly influences that good example or refined associations generate or suggest, whose educations fitted them to adorn society and min- gle in the higher walks of life, and whose memories of pleasant homes, loving mothers, and gentle sisters would even there well up in their hearts to vindicate, as it were, the supremacy of their better natures. These suffered from the contamination of grosser minds, and were sunk to their level ; their integrity was sapped by the treacherous effects of constant intercourse, while their manliness was overwhelmed by the brutaliz- ing results of thek imprisonment ; and it would not be too harsh a judgment to pronounce the thirty-five thou- sand men there herded together as but one degree removed from absolute savages. In some respects they OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOIlSrE OF FLOREJSTCE. 223 did not reach the savage level, for he can boast of his endurance, but their manhood was gone ; he can pride himself upon his courage, theirs was broken by an accu- mulation of miseries under which the savage himself would have sunk. Wirtz had carefully marked the gradual development of these dangerous tendencies, and was at last satisfied that they had culminated into the utter demoralization o* the wretched subjects which he controlled, and he began, coward as he was, to fear their sudden exhibition toward himself. His visits to the inside of the stockade, never frequent, were now seldom made, and then with extreme precautions for his own safety. He well appre- ciated the danger of thrusting himself into the midst of the starving, maddened, reckless men, for he knew that his life would not be worth a minute' s purchase in the hands of these unutterably wronged soldiers, and he was, in consequence, seen only upon the platforms of the sentinels, outside the walls. He was afraid of any unusual assemblage of the prisoners, and his orders to the guards were imperative to prevent their congregating together, and to hinder any combinations for an escape. I confess that, to a greater or less extent, our nation- ality and the good name we bear are involved in the issue ; but I do not fear to present to the world on this account this great conspiracy of treason, this confedera- tion of traitors, though it shock the moral sentiment of the universe ; for, however much we may deplore the fact that at its head and front were Americans, once prominent in the councils of the nation, they have for- feited all rights — they have ceased in any way to repre- sent the true spirit of Americanism — they are outlaws and criminals, and can not, by their crimes, attaint our 224 SOUTHEEIT PRISON'S *, fair escntcheon. It is the work of treason, tlie legitimate result of that sum of all villanies, and which, by many, very many proofs during the past four years, has shown itself capable of this last one developed. When v,re remember that the men here charged, and those incul- pated, but not named in the indictment, are some of them men who were at the head of the late rebellion from it* beginning to its close, and, as such chiefs, sanc- tioned the brutal conduct of their soldiers as early*as the iirst battle of Bull Run — who perpetrated unheard- of cruelties at Libby and Belle Island — wbo encouraged the most atrocious propositions of retaliation in their Congress — who sanctioned a guerrilla mode of warfare — who instituted a system of steamboat burning and firing of cities — who employed a surgeon in their service to steal into our capital city infected clothing — who approved the criminal treatment of the captured garrisons at Fort Pillow, Fort Washington, and elsewhere — who were guilty of the basest treachery of sending paroled pris- oners into the field — who planted torpedos in the paths of our soldiers — who paid their emissaries for loading shells in the shape of coals, and intermixing them in the fuel of our steamers — who ordered an indiscriminate fir- ing upon our transports, and vessels, and railroad trains, regardless of whom they contained — who organized and carried to a successful termination a most diabolical con- spiracy to assassinate the President of the United States : when we remember these things of these men, may we not, without hesitancy, bring to light the conspiracy here charged ? CHARGES AXD SPECIFICATIONS. Before this court, which was acknowledged to be, Tjeyond cavil, the most talented that had ever been assem OR, JOSIE, THE HEROITiTE OF FLORENCE. 225 bled, and as to rank above exception, the jailer, whose current crimes have been delineated, was brought for trial. The charges and specifications were read to him. It is not considered necessary to give any explanation of them, as the reader can judge for himself. They are as follows : CHARGE 1. Maliciously, willfully, and traitorously, and in aid of the then existing armed rebellion against the United States of America, on or before the first day of March, A. D. 1864, and on divers other days between that day and the tenth day of April, 1865, combining, confeder- ating, and conspiring together with John H. Winder, Richard B. Winder, Joseph White, W. S. Winder, R. R. Stevenson, and others unknown, to injure the health and destroy the lives of soldiers in the military service of the United States, then held and being prisoners of war within the lines of the so-called Confederate States, and in the military prisons thereof, to the end that the armies of the United States might be weakened and im- paired, in violation of the laws and customs of war. SPECIFICATION. In this, that he, the said Henry Wirtz, did combine, confederate, and conspire with them, the said John H. Winder, Richard B. Winder, Joseph White, W. S. Winder, R. R. Stevenson, and others whose names are unknown, citizens of the United States aforesaid, and who were then engaged in armed rebellion against the United States, maliciously, traitorously, and in violation of the laws of war, to impair and injure the health and destroy the lives — by subjecting to torture and great suf- fering, by confining in unhealthy and unwholesome 29 05 SOTTTHEEN PKISONS ; qnarters, by exposing to the inclemency of winter, and to the dews and burning heat of summer, by compelling the use of impure water, and by furnishing insufficient and unwholesome food — of large numbers of Federal prisoners, to wit, the number of thirty thousand, soldiers in the military service of the United States of America, held as prisoners of war at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, within the lines of the so-called Confeder- ate States, on or before the first day of March, A. D. 1864, and at divers times between that day and the tenth day of April, A. D. 1865, to the end that the armies of the United States might be weakened and impaired, and the insurgents engaged in armed rebellion against the United States might be aided and comforted : And he, the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the military service of the so-called Confederate States, being then and there commandant of a military prison at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, located by authority of the so- called Confederate States for the confinement of prison- ers of war, and as such commandant fully clothed with authority, and in duty bound to treat, care, and provide for such prisoners, held as aforesaid, as were or might be placed in his custody, according to the laws of war, did, in furtherance of such combination, confederation, and conspiracy, and incited thereunto by them, the said John H. Winder, Richard B. Winder, Joseph White, W. S, Winder, R. R. Stevenson, and others whose names are unknown, maliciously, wickedly and traitor- ously confine a large number of such prisoners of war, soldiers in the military service of the United States, to the amount of thirty thousand men, in unhealthy and unwholesome quarters, in a close and small area of ground, wholly inadequate to their wants and destruc- OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 227 tive to their health, which he well knew and intended ; and while there so confined, during the time aforesaid, did, in furtherance of his evil design, and in aid of the said conspiracy, willfully and maliciously neglect to furnish tents, barracks, or other shelter sufficient for their protection from the inclemency of winter and the dews and burning sun of summer ; and with such evil intent did take and cause to be takefi from them their clothing, blankets, camp equipage, and other property of which they were possessed at the time of I-i'ing placed in his custody ; and with like malice and evil intent, did refuse to furnish or cause to be furnished food, either of a quality or quantity sufficient to preserve health or to sustain life ; and did refuse and neglect to furnish wood sufficient for cooking in summer, and to keep the said prisoners warm in winter, and did compel the said pris- oners to subsist upon unwholesome food, and that in limited quantities entirely inadequate to sustain health, which he well knew ; and did compel the said prisoners to use unwholesome water., reeking with the filth and garbage of the prison and prison guard, and the offal and drainage of the cook-house of said prison, whereby the prisoners became greatly reduced in their bodily strength, and emaciated and injured in their bodily health, their minds impaired and their intellects broken; and many of them, to wit, the number of ten thousand, whose names are unknown, sickened and died by reason thereof, which he, the said Henry Wirtz, then and there well knew and intended ; and so knowing and evilly intending, did refuse and neglect to provide proper lodg- ings, food, or nourishment for the sick, and necessary medicine and medical attendance for the restoration of their health, and did knowingly, willfully, and mali- 228 SOUTHEEIS^ PKISOINTS ; ciously, in furtherance of his evil designs, permit them to languish and die from want of care and proper treat- ment ; and the said Henry Wirtz, still pursuing his evil purposes, did permit to remain in the said prison among the emaciated sick and languishing living, the bodies of the dead, until they became corrupt and loathsome, and filled the air with fetid and noxious exhalations, and thereby gr^tly increased the unwholesomeness of the prison, insomuch that great numbers of said prison- ers, to wit, the number of one thousand, whose names are unknown, sickened and died by reason thereof : And the said Henry Wirtz, still pursuing his wicked and cruel purpose, wholly disregarding the usages of civil- ized warfare, did, at the time and place aforesaid, maliciously and willfully subject the prisoners aforesaid to cruel, unusual, and infamous punishment, ujDon slight, trivial, and fictitious pretences, by fastening large balls of iron to their feet, and binding large numbers of the prisoners aforesaid closely together, with large chains around their necks and feet, so that they walked with the greatest difllculty ; and, being so confined, were subjected to the burning rays of the sun, often without food or drink for hours and even days, from which said cruel treatment large numbers, to wit, the number of one hundred, whose names are unknown, sickened, fainted, and died : And he, the said Wirtz, did further cruelly treat and injure said prisoners by maliciously confining them within an instrument of torture called "the stocks," thus depriving them of the use of their limbs, and forcing them to lie, sit, and stand for many hours without the power of changing position, and being without food or drink, in consequence of which many, to wit, the number of thirty, whose names are unknown, ^7J, JOSIE, TITE HEEOI]!«^E OF FLOKENCE. 229 sickened and died : And lie, the said Wirtz, still wick- edly pursuing his evil purpose, did establish and cause to be designated, within the prison inclosure containing said prisoners, a "dead line," being a line around the inner face of the stockade or wall inclosing said prison, and about twenty feet distant from and within said stockade ; and having so established said dead line, which was in many places an imaginary line, and in many other places marked by insecure and shifting strips of boards nailed upon the top of small and inse- cure stakes or posts, he, the said Wirtz, instructed the prison guard stationed around the top of said stockade, to fire upon and kill any of the prisoners aforesaid who might touch, fall upon, pass over, or nnder, or across the said "dead line." Pursuant to which said orders and instructions, maliciously and needlessly given by said Wirtz, the said prison guard did fire upon and kill a large number of said prisoners, to wit, the number of about three hundred. And the said Wirtz, still pursu- ing his evil purpose, did keep and use ferocious and bloodthirsty beasts, dangerous to human life, called bloodhounds, to hunt down prisoners of war aforesaid who made their escape from his custody, and did, then and there, willfully and maliciously suffer, incite, and encourage the said beasts to seize, tear, mangle, and maim the bodies and limbs of said fugitive prisoners of war, which the said beasts, incited as aforesaid, then and there did, whereby a large number of said prisoners of war who, during the time aforesaid, made their escape and were recaptured, and were by the said beasts then and there cruelly and inhumanly injured, insomuch that many of said prisoners, to vat, the number of about fifty, died : And the said Wirtz, still pursuing his wicked 230 SOUTHEKN PKISONS ; purpose, and still aiding in carrying out said conspiracy, did use and cause to be used, for the pretended purpose of vaccination, impure and poisonous vaccine matter, which said impure and poisonous matter was then and there, by the direction and order of said Wirtz, mali- ciously, cruelly, and wickedly deposited in the arms of many of said prisoners, by reason of which large num- bers of them, to wit, one hundred, lost the use of their arms, and many of them, to wit, about the number of two hundred, were so injured that they soon thereafter died : All of which he, the said Henry Wirtz, well knew and maliciously intended, and in aid of the then exist- ing rebellion against the United States, with the view to assist in weakening and impairing the armies of the United States, and in furtherance of the said conspiracy, and with the full knowledge, consent, and connivance of his said co-conspirators aforesaid, he, the said Wirtz, then and there did. CHARGE 2. Murder, in violation of the laws and customs of war. SPECIFICATION 1. In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the military service of the so-called Confederate Stwtes of America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on or about the eighth day of July, A. D. 1864, then and there being commandant of a prison there located by the authority of the said so-called Confederate States, for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held as such from the armies of the United States of America, while acting as said commandant, feloniously, willfully, and of his malice aforethought, did make an assault, and he, the said Henry Wirtz, a certain j)istol called a OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 231 revolver then and there loaded and charged with gun- powder and bullets, which said pistol the said Henry Wirtz in his hand then and there held, to, against, and upon a soldier belonging to the army of the United States, in his, the said Henry Wirtz' s, custody as a pris- oner of war, whose name is unknown, then and there feloniously, and of his malice aforethought, did shoot and discharge, inflicting upon the body of the soldier aforesaid a mortal wound with the pistol aforesaid, in consequence of which said mortal wound, murderously inflicted by the said Henry Wirtz, the said soldier there- after, to wit, on the ninth day of July, A. D. 1864, died. SPECIFICATION 2. In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the military service of the so-called Confederate States of America, at Andersonvi^le, in the State of Georgia, on or about the twentieth day of September, A. D. 1864, then and there being commandant of a prison there located by the authority of the said so-called Confede- rate States for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held as such from the armies of the United States of America, while acting as said commandant, feloniously, willfully, and of his malice aforethought, did jump upon, stamp, kick, bruise, and otherwise injure with the heels of his boots, a soldier belonging to the army of the United States in his, the said Henry Wirtz' s, cus- tody, whose name is unknown, of which said stamping, kicking and bruising, maliciously done and inflicted T)y the said Wirtz, he, the said soldier, soon thereafter, to wit, on the twentieth day of September, A. D. 1864, died. 232 SOIJTHERN PEISOITS; BPECIFICATION 8. In this, that tlie said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the military service of the so-called Confederate States of America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on or about the thirteenth day of June, A. D. 1S64, then and there being commandant of a prison there located b}^ the authority of the said so-called Confederate States for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held as such from the armies of the United States of America, while acting as said commandant, feloniously, and of his malice aforethought, did make an assault, and he, the said Henry Wirtz, a certain pistol called a revolver, then and there charged with gunpowder and bullets, which' said pistol the said Henry Wirtz in his hand then and there had and held, to, against, and upon a sol- dier belonging to the army of the United States, in his, the said Henry Wirtz s, custody as a prisoner of war, whose name is unknown, then and there feloniously, and of his malice aforethought, did shoot and dis- charge, inflicting upon the body of the soldier aforesaid a mortal wound with the pistol aforesaid, in consequence of which said mortal wound, murderously inflicted by the said Henry Wirtz, the said soldier immediately, to wit, on the day aforesaid, died. SPECIFICATION 4. In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the military service of the so-called Confederate States of America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on or about the thirtieth day of May, A. D. 1864, then and there being commandant of a prison there located by the authority of the so-called Confederate States for the lonfinement of prisoners of war taken and held as such OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 233 from the armies of the United States of America, while acting as said commandant, feloniously, and of his malice aforethought, did make an assault, and he, the said Henry Wirtz, a certain pistol called a revolvei then and there loaded and charged with gunpowder and bullets, which said pistol the said Henry Wirtz in his hand then and there had and held, to, against, and upon a soldier belonging to the army of the Cnited States, in his, the said Henry Wirtz' s, custody as a prisoner of war, whose name is unknown, then and there feloniously, and of his malice aforethought, did shoot and discharge, inflicting upon the body of the soldier aforesaid a mortal wound with the pistol afore- said, in consequence of which said mortal wound, murderousl}^ inflicted by the said Henry Wirtz, the said soldier, on the thii'tieth day of May, A. D. 1864, died. SPECIFICATION 5. In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the military service of the so-called Confederate States of America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on or about the twentieth day of August, A. D. 1864, then and there being commandant of a prison there located by the authority of the said so-called Confederate States for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held as such from the armies of the United States of Ameri- ca, while acting as said commandant, feloniously, and of his malice aforethought, did confine and bind within an instrument of torture called 'the stocks," a soldier belonging to the army of the United States, in his, the said Henry Wirtz' s, custody as a prisoner of war, whose name is unknown, in consequence of which said cruel treatment, maliciously and murderously inflicted as 30 234 SOtTTHERN PRISOlSrS ; aforesaid, the said soldier soon thereafter, to wit, on the thirtieth day of August, A. D. 1864, died. SPECIFICATION 6. In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the military service of the so-called Confederate States of America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on or about the first day of February, A. D. 1865, then and there being commandant of a prison there located by the authority of the said so-called Confederate States for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held as such from the armies of the United States of America, while acting as said commandant, feloniously, and of his malice aforethought, did confine and bind within an instrument of torture called "the stocks," a soldier be- longing to the army of the United States, in his, the said Henry Wirtz' s, custody as a prisoner of A'ar, whose name is unknown, in consequence of which said cruel treatment, maliciously and murderously inflicted as aforesaid, he, the said soldier, soon thereafter, to wit, on the sixth day of February, A. D. 1864, died. SPECIFICATION 7. In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the military service of the so-called Confederate States of America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on or about the twentieth day of July, A. D. 1864, then and there being commandant of a prison there located by the authority of the said so-called Confederate States for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held as such from the armies of the United States of Ameri- ca, while acting as said commandant, feloniously, and of his malice aforethought, did fasten and chain to- OR, JOSIE, THE HEROTNE OF FLOEETiTCE. 235 gether several persons, soldiers belonging to the army of the United States in his, the said liemy Wirtz's, cus- tody as prisoners of war, whose names are unknown, binding the necks and feet of said prisoners closely together, and compelling them to carry great burdens, to wit, large iron balls chained to their feet, so that, in consequence of the said cruel treatment inflicted upon them by the said Henry Wirtz as aforesaid, one of said soldiers, a prisoner of war as aforesaid, whose name is unknown, on the twenty-fifth day of July, A. D. 1864, died. SPECIFICATION 8. In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the military service of the so-called Confederate States of America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on or about the fifteenth day of May, A. D. 1864, then and there being commandant of a prison there located by the auttLority of the said so-called Confederate States for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held as such from the armies of the United States of Ameri- ca, while acting as said commandant, feloniously, will- fully, and of his malice aforethought, did order a rebel soldier whose name is unknown, then on duty as a sentinel or guard to the prison of which said Henry Wirtz was commandant as aforesaid, to fire upon a soldier belonging to the army of the United States in his, the said Henry Wirtz's, custody as a prisoner of war, whose name is unknown ; and in pursuance of said order so as aforesaid maliciously and murderously given as aforesaid, he, the said rebel soldier did, with a musket loaded with gunpowder and bullet, then and there fire at the said soldier so as aforesaid held as a prisoner of war, inflicting upon him a mortal wound 236 SOTJTHEKN PKISOIfS; with the musket aforesaid, of which he, the said pris- oner, soon thereafter, to wit, on the day aforesaid, died. SPECIFICATION 9. In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the military service of the so-called Confederate States of America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on or about the first day of July, A. D. 1864, then and there being commandant of a prison there located by the authority of the so-called Confederate States for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held as such from the armies of the United States of America, while acting as said commandant, feloniously and of his malice aforethomght, did order a rebel soldier, whose name is unknown, then on duty as a sentinel or guard to the prison of which said Wirtz was commandant as aforesaid, to fire upon a soldier belonging to the army of the United States, in his, the said Henry Wirtz' s, custody as a prisoner of war, whose name is unknown ; and in pursuance of said order so as aforesaid, mali- ciously and murderously given as aforesaid, he, the said rebel soldier, did, with a musket loaded with gun- powder and bullet, then and there fire at the said sol- dier so as aforesaid held as a prisoner of war, inflicting upon him a mortal wound with the said musket, of which he, the said prisoner, soon thereafter, to wit, on the day aforesaid, died. SPECIFICATION 10. In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the military service of the so-called Confederate States of America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on or about the twentieth day of August, A. D. 1864, then OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOIlSrE OF FLOREISTCE. 237 and tliere being commandant of a prison there located by the authority of the said so-called Confederate States for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held as such from the armies of the United States of Ameri- ca, while acting as said commandant, feloniously and of his malice aforethought, did order a rebel soldier, whose name is unknown, then on duty as a sentinel or guard to the prison of which said Wirtz was comman- dant as aforesaid, to fire upon a soldier belonging to the army of the United States, in his, the said Henry Wirtz' s, custody as a prisoner of war, whose name is unknown ; and in pursuance of said order so as afore- said, maliciously and murderousl}'' given as aforesaid, he, the said rebel soldier, did, with a musket loaded with gunpowder and bullet, then and there fire at the said soldier so as aforesaid held as a prisoner of war, inflicting upon him a mortal wound with the said mus- ket, of which he, the said prisoner, soon thereafter, to wit, on the day aforesaid, died. SPECIFICATION 11. In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an ofl^cer in the military service of the so-called Confederate States of America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on or about the first day of July, A. D. 1864, then and there being commandant of a prison there located by the authority of the said so-called Confederate States for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held as such from the armies of the United States of Ameri- ca, while acting as said commandant, feloniously, and of his malice aforethought, did cause, incite and urge certain ferocious and bloodthirsty animals called blood- hounds to pursue, attack, wound, and tear in pieces a 238 SOUTHEEN PRISOIS^S ; soldier belonging to the army of the United States, in Ms, the said Henry Wirtz's, custody as a prisoner of war, whose name is unknown ; and in consequence thereof the said bloojihounds did then and there, with the knowledge, encouragement, and instigation of him, the said Wirtz, maliciously and murderoiisl}^ given by him, attack and mortally wound the said soldier, in consequence of which said mortal wound he, the said prisoner, soon thereafter, to wit, on the sixth day of July, A. D. 1864, died. SPECIFICATION 12. In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the military service of the so-called Confederate States of America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on or about the twenty- seventh day of July, A. D. 1864, then and there being commandant of a prison there located by the authority of the said so-called Confede- rate States for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held as such from the armies of the United States of America, while acting as said commandant, feloni- ously, and of his malice aforethought, did order a rebel soldier, whose name is unknown, then on duty as a sen- tinel or guard to the prison of which said Wirtz was commandant as aforesaid, to fire upon a soldier belong- ing to the army of the United States, in his, the said Henry Wirtz's, custody as a prisoner of war, whose name is unknown ; and in pursuance of said order so as aforesaid, maliciously and murderously given as aforesaid, he, the said rebel soldier did, with a musket loaded with gunpowder and bullet, then and there fire at the said soldier so as aforesaid held as a prisoner of war, inflicting upon him a mortal wound with the said OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORENCE. 23^ musket, of which mortal wound he, the said prisoner, soon thereafter, to wit, on the day aforesaid, died. SPECIFICATION 13. In this, that the said Henry Wirtz, an officer in the military service of the so-called Confederate States of America, at Andersonville, in the State of Georgia, on or about the third day of August, A. D. 1864, then and there being commandant of a prison there located by the authority of the said so-called Confederate States for the confinement of prisoners of war taken and held as such from the armies of the United States of Ameri- ca, while acting as said commandant, feloniously, and of his malice aforethought, did make an assault upon a soldier belonging to the army of the United States, in his, the said Henry Wirtz' s, custody as a prisoner of war, whose name is unknown, and with a pistol called a revolver, then and there held in the hands of the said Wirtz, did beat and bruise said soldier upon the head, shoulders and breast, inflicting thereby mortal wounds, from which said beating and bruising aforesaid, and mortal wounds caused thereby, the said soldier soon thereafter, to wit, on the fourth day of August, A. D. 1864, died. By order of the President of the United States. N. P. CHIPMAN, Colonel and A. A. D. C, Judge Advocate. It would seem to be almost incredible that such a Icng-continued system of wrong and barbarity could be persisted in for month after month, with investigations going on under orders from the Eichmond authorities, and examinations under Cobb, without some facts be- 240 SOUTHERN PRISONS; coming known to the Confederate government; that, when Confederate surgeons have been sworn, where twelve thousand died, nine thousand six hundred might have been saved by using the most ordinary care, some rumors of such dreadful mortality must have found their way to the ears of those who held the remedy in their hands. Incredulity may rest its doubts upon this point, for all was known by the authorities at Richmond, and the sufferings which we have detailed were preconcerted there. From an article in the Richmond Examiner of the 30th of October, 1863, it would appear that the whole- sale slaughter of Andersonville was designed^ and that the Northern prisoners were to be systematically exter- minated by their rebel jailers. That paper recommend- ed, under the above date, that '-Hlie Yankee prisoners he put where the cold weather and scant fare will thin them out in accordance tcitli the laws of nature P'' This was no irresponsible utterance of wild, murderous counsels by an individual fanatic, which passed as they were read, without carrying weight or influence with them — they were the foreshadowings of the mighty crime which was to be perpetrated — instigations to be followed of the wholesale extermination of the thou- sands who suffered in consequence of them. But let me return from this digression. One can hardly believe all these things of a government pretend- ing to struggle for a place among civilized nations, yet, horrible as it seems, the fact cannot be resisted. Do I do injustice to the leaders of the rebellion? Have I drawn inferences that are unwarrantable ? Is it indeed true that these men, high in authority, are not OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 24l responsible ? I think not. Motives are presumed from actions, and actions are louder than words. What was the action of Mr. Davis and his war minister upon these reports? The papers were pigeon-holed in the secre- tary's office, not even being dignified by being placed upon the regular files in tha proper oflaces, while Gene- ral Winder, the chief accomplice, instead of being removed immediately and broken of his commission, and tried for a violation of the laws of war, for crueltj^, inhumanity and murder — instead of being held up by that government as a warning to others, giving a color- ing of justice to their cause, was promoted, rewarded, and given a command of a wider scope and greater power, but still in a position to carry out the purposes of his government toward prisoners of war. History is full of examples similar in character, where a government, car rying out its ends, has selected as tools men not unlike General Winder, and history, faithful in the narrative of the facts, is faithful also in fixing upon the government who employed such persons, and sustained and rewarded them, the responsibility for the acts of their agents. James II. had his Jeffreys ; Philip II. his Duke of Alva ; Louis XIV. his Duke de Louvois ; the Emperor of Aus- tria his Haynau ; and Jefferson Dams his Winder. The closest scrutiny of the immense record of this trial will show that, up to the very close of that prison, there were no steps taken by the rebel government, by General Winder, or by any of the officers of his staff clothed with proper authority, to alleviate in any mate- rial particular the great sufferings of that place. You will remember the uniform testimony of the medical offi- cers, as well as of the prisoners who remained there dur- ing the winter of 1864-5, that there was no perceptible 31 242 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; change in the condition of the prison, and an examina- tion of the hospital register will show that tlie mortality even was greater during that period, in projDortion to the number of prisoners confined, than it was during the months of its most crow^ded condition. From the prison journal, kept by the prisoner himself, we find that in September, the mean number of prisoners being seven- teen thousand, the deaths were two thousand seven hun- dred ; in October, the mean strength being about six thousand seven hundred, the number of deaths was one thousand five hundred and sixty — nearly one out of every five ; in November, the mean strength being two thousand three hundred, the deaths were four hundred and eighty-five ; while those who remained to the very close — till the prison was broken up, are described by Greneral Wilson and others as having been " mere skele- tons" — "shadows of men." Nor must it be forgotten that the marks of this cruelty were so indelibly stamped upon its victims, that thousands who survived are yet cripples, and will carry to their graves the evidence of the horrible treatment to which they were subjected. The surgeons of our army who treated these shadows of men when they arrived within our lines at Jacksonville and Hilton Head tell you of hundreds who died before they could be resuscitated ; of others permanently disa- bled ; of others, on their partial recovery, being started upon their way homeward, and being treated again at Annapolis. Dr. Vanderkieft, of our army, speaks of the condition of those prisoners while under his treatment at that place. He says: " They were reduced, suffering from chronic diarrhoea and scurvy ; some of them in a dying condi- tion ; some of them died a few days after they arrived, OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIXE OF FLORET^CE. 243 and those who did recover were obliged to remain a long time in hospital before they were able to return to their homes" (Record, p. 505). And with that certainty with which science reasons from effect to cause, oftentimes after describing the con- dition of the men, as it has been brought out in this tes - timony, he concludes, "The sjnnptoms and condition of the patients presented cases of starvation." Nor must it be forgotten, in the summing up of the cumulative proof of the Andersonville horrors, that numerous photographs of returned prisoners were intr*^- duced here, and identified by Drs. Vanderkeift, Balser, and others, as representing cases no worse than hun- dreds and thousands they had seen. So impressive, in- deed, and so strong seemed this evidence of rebel cruelty, that the counsel for the prisoner sought in his cross- examination to show that they were fancy sketches. Are we told that these were improbable, and can not be believed, because it is said Mr. Davis is a good w,an — not capable of such cruelty % Are we told that no direct order of his is shown, and therefore, notwithstanding all these facts and circumstances narrated, he must be ac- quitted of all blame % The law governing cases of con- spiracy does not require us to show a direct order ; circumstances from which guilt may be inferred are sufficient. Tjie rebel chief did not find it necessary to issue du'ect instruction, nor, indeed, could it reasonably be expected He was too wary, too sagacious for that. Ivi.ichelet relates an anecdote of Louis XV. not mal- apropos. " The illustrious Quesnay, physician to Louis XV., who lived in the house of the latter at ^"ersailles, saw the kmg one day rush in suddenly, and felt alarmed. Madame Du Haurret. the wittv femme-de-chambr" m- 244 SOUTHEKN PEISOTiTS ; quired of him why he seemed so uneasy. 'Madame,' returned he, ' whenever I see the king, I say to myself there is *a man who can cut my head off.' ' Oh,' said she, 'he is too good: " The ladies' maid thus summed up in one word the guarantees of monarchy. The king was too good to cut a man's head off; "that was no longer agreeable to custom ; but he could with one word send him to the Bastile, and there forget him. It re- mains to be seen whether it is better to perish with one blow, or to suffer a lingering death for thirty or forty years." Mr. Davis was not capable of being the instrument of death ; he was too good to be the keeper of a prison, and withhold from starving men their scanty rations, but he could send them out of his sight, away from the prison in plain view of his residence, into the dense forests of Georgia, and there forget them. If Jefferson Davis be ever brought to trial for his many crimes — and may Heaven spare the temple of justice if he is not — it will not do for him to upbraid and accuse his willing tools. Winder and Wirtz, as King John did Hubert for the death of Prince Arthur ; they will turn upon him and say, " Here is your hand and seal for all I did, And in the winking of authority Did we understand a law." And thus the thirteen months of the existence of this abode of wretchedness and death wore wearily on to their close, as the great events of the war reached their culmination. Changes had occurred in the internal administration of the prison, and others assumed the positions which their predecessors had vacated. The arch-dii-ectQr of OE, JOSIE. THE HEROINE OF FLORElSrCE. 245 prisons had met with a change of more momentous importance to himself than to any whom he had left behind him. His commission was revoked. John H. Winder was no longer a brigadier general in the Confed- erate army. He had been summoned to answer for his crimes before a court whose jurisdiction could not be questioned, and whose judgment was irrevocable. He was dead — dead, with all the hideous accumulation of unrepented sins which he had scored up against himself there at Andersonville. His record was made out by his own hand, and he died too soon for human justice, too late for divine mercy. His name will go down forever linked with the terrible but just censure of Col. Chand- ler as one wlio advocated murder deliberately and in cold blood, and with the enduring execrations of every man of sensibility who ever had, an hour' s intercourse with him. The author does not subscribe to the paganism which forbids censure of the bad because no good can be uttered for the dead, nor will he be misled by the drivel of ' ' mag- nanimity' ' when he sums up the character of a deliber- ate torturer and slayer of helpless prisoners of war. He accepts the rule as laid down by Carlyle: "Above all things, let us rid ourselves of cant;" and, in dismissing the man Winder to the infamy which must ever be his, he bids farewell to the leading subject in a panorama of public horror, which will rival the most revolting of Dante's conceptions, because the pictures from his hand were real and conceivable. The weary months at last reached April in their re- curring order, when the sun of the twenty- seventh shone down upon the exhausted, degraded remnant who yet peopled that filthy stockade. Peace had at length come 24S southeejST pkisois^s ; to them, but not in her poetical garb of purity. Her garments were defiled as she passed through that inclo- sure, where a holocaust of corruption had been offered up for thirteen months ; her smile was changed to sad- ness as she gazed upon the wrecks of humanity whose feeble voices welcomed her approach. But she bore them the tidings of freedom, and from that moment they felt their manhood return to them again — they were free at last ! The jailer Wirtz had continued his residence near the Rtockade with his family, and there the peace found him, terrified, trembling at the future that he saw before 'him. His occupation was gone ; his companions in crime had left him the sole occupant of the theatre of his past atro- cities, to confront by himself the scorn and vengeance of an outraged nation. OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOEENCE. 247 CHAPTER XIX. AN EPISODE OF LOVE. 1 Visit a Planter's House, and there again meet Miss Seymour. — A Union of Hearts. Love is Life's end; an end but never ending; All joys, all sweets, all happiness, awarding; Love is life's wealth (ne'er spent but ever spending) More rich by giving, taking by discarding ; Love's life's reward, rewarded in rewarding. Spenser. Occasionally, even at Andersonville, we had some sport among ourselves, and wlienever anything of that sort was geing forward I almost always contrived to have a hand in, not having quite lost all my j^outhful elasticity, and having gained in spirits as well as in health since my taking up my recent out-of-door occu- pations. There were a few families living in Anderson- ville, and I now contrived to become acquainted with them We lived in little log huts, outside of the stockades, and in the immediate vicinity of the railroad station. The evenings were always our own, save when the num.- ber of dead bodies was occasionally so extreme that we were unable to get through with the work of burying them during the day, and in such events we w^ere obliged to work at night, and sometimes until very late, so that we might be ready to commence upon a fresh lot of bodies early on the ne:^i morning. 248 SOUTHEKN PRISOITS • Soon after being placed outside I formed the acquaint- ance of one of the Rebel soldiers, who was known to all the families in the vicinity of Andersonville, and by adroit manoeuvering got into his good graces, and by his assistance and introduction made the acquaintance of several of the families whom I desired most to know. It need not seem strange that a Rebel guard and a Yan- kee prisoner affiliated thus closely. It was one of those exceptions which were constantly witnessed during the rebellion to, all rules. Indeed it was a noticeable thing that after fighting each other most gallantly for a time, the common soldiers began to entertain a feeling of mutual respect, and when thrown together by accident, would live as quietly and peacefully as if they belonged to the same regiment, associating as old friends during this period, and each, if they chanced to be marksmen on picket duty, attempting to take the life of the other, within five minutes of their regaining their own lines. So one evening, my Rebel acquaintance or friend, just as the reader is pleased to regard him, invited mt to make -a call with him upon a certain family with whom he was particularly well acquainted, and one of the very best in the vicinity, he said. I acceded, having no reluctance, whatever, to spend a pleasant evening in Dixie, if I could not do it just yet at the North, and besides I did not now present the woe-begone appear- ance the prisoners usually did. My physique, as to face and person, had very much changed for the better, and I had supplied myselt with tolerably good clothing through the same acquaintance, there being no danger that any one would dare to molest me in them or strip me of them while I was engaged in my present occupa- tion, being expressly under the care and protection of OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIIfE OF FLORENCE. 24 Capt. Wirtz, whom his own men feared to provoke, just as fully as did any Union prisoner in his hands. At about eight o'clock in the evening, we arrived at the place, to which my companion had led the way. It seemed the house and grounds of a rich man. The mansion itself was large and roomy, mostly being sit- uated on the ground floor, as is generally the case with Southern houses, such buildings being cooler, a free draught of air playing through the entire house, and saving to the occupants during the summer weather, when the}^ have become enervated by the long contin- ued heat, tlie weariness of ascending staircases. In the construction of their residences, the Southern character, or the better part of it, se«ms to have been set forth. As their plantations were broad and generous, as their wealth was often princely and great, as they were rarely compelled to bend to thoughts of economy, and dis- pensed hospitality with a generous, lavish hand, so they built their houses on the same plan, broad, open and ample, with room enough for two or three families of the size of that which owned the plantation, and, as we have said, almost all the rooms occupied by the family were upon the ground floor. The grounds about the mansion seemed no less attrac- tive than the house itself. '■ Jiey rose slowly bacK to where the residence stood, and were beautifully shaded by the charming trees of the South, which not only cast an enchanting veil over them and the house, but many of them made the air delicious with the perfume of their flowers. Of flowers themselves there was also a profu- sion, as I could then, however, only distinguish by the many scents which filled the air and told as plainly as words could do, that the persons inhabiting the house 32 250 SOUTHEKN PRISONS ; were cultivated, refined and lovers of the pure joys wliicli the Creator has given man here in such abund- ance that it seems strange how he can long for those that defile and enervate. After moving slowly through the garden and up the broad avenue, which led to the house, my companion clearly enjoying the delicious night and the delightful surroundings as deeply as did I, who was drinking it all in rapturousl}^, after having for years been almost entirely banished from such Edens, we reached the house, mounted a low piazza which ran round three sides of the house, and knocked for admittance. A female servant, neatly dressed and without any of the gaudy display which usually characterized the quad- roons of the South, opened the door and pleasantly and with very good breeding invited us in, showing us first into a hall and then into the parlor. This was a large, but rather low, ceiled room, to my Northern ideas, though fully as high as often seen on the plantations of the South, divided from what I judged was an inner parlor, by folding doors, and hung round the walls with pictures, which even my unpracticed eye told me at once were good, and the refinement of the owner was still further proclaimed by a large library, tilled with standard and choice books, and occupying part of one side of the room. There were many pleas ant easy chairs, some of the cool bamboo, some rock- ers, and some of that easy pattern which have come into vogue during the last few years, and which, by yielding as the person leans back in one, constitute a reading, sleeping or sick man's chair. I had been afforded time leisurely to scan the differ- ent objects in the apartment, and muse a little as to OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIjN'E OF FLORENCE. 251 what tlie appearance of its owner and his family would be, when my attention was arrested by a low talking behind the folding doors, a little subdued laughter, when they were drawn back and Mr. R., his wife, his daughter and another young lady stood revealed to my view. One of the young ladies seemed strangely familiar to me, and, though her face was not yet turned towards me, I was convinced that it was no other than Miss Sey- mour. To say that I was a little startled is only to con- fess what would be true of any man in my position, thus suddenly brought into contact with the one he loves, after a separation of months (during which period I had undergone all kinds of apprehensions concerniTig her) and had himself been shut up in a Rebel prison, completely cut off from the sweet companionship of woman. To say that I was delighted would but faintl}- express the emotions that swelled my heart to overhow- ing. After remaining turned away from me for a minute or two, while I hesitated to advance mainly because of the presence of our host and his famil}^, she turned towards me, revealing her sweet face, and coming frankly for- ward to where I stood, put both hands in mine, and welcomed me in few words, but with tones of joy and with deep blushes mantling her cheeks that gave me sweet assurance of the kindness entertained for me in her heart. She then formally presented me to Mr. R., his wife and daughter, and we soon entered into general conversation, while my Rebel friend, for now so I con- sidered him in reality, after a little occupied the others. I managed to engage Miss Seymour in quiet conversa- tion. She told me that having known of my being 252 SOUTHEKN PKISONS ; removed to Andersonville, through our meeting at Atlanta, she had come to the vicinity and taken up her residence with Mr. E.'s family, with whom she had long been acquainted. Through her maneuvers the Kebel had been induced by them to bring me to the house, and now I experienced the joy resulting from her hap- ply formed and promptly executed plans. I thanked her from my heart for her great kindness, and, though the words were poorl}^ chosen, the whole meeting com- ing so suddenly upon me, I am certain she knew I was grateful, and, more than that, that I loved her devotedly. We remained in this paradise until the warning note of eleven o'clock sounding told us that we must part for the present. I did not go, however, without obtaining my first good night kiss from my darling, and an invita- tion, shyly expressed, but telling volumes, to come and see her as often as I could. In returning to the camp we did not follow the usual course, but passed through a piece of woods, as neither of us wished to be seen or have any intruders on our happiness, as I suspected my Rebel friend was not a little interested in the fair daugh- ter of Mr. R. I found all my comrades fast asleep, and over a good pipe of tobacco I mused long over my strange adventures and the great good fortune which had given me so charming and so dear a friend, who seemed to have been raised up by Providence to aid the captive in his need. In vain, long after I had sought my apology for a couch, did I woo the goddess sleep. Many thoughts rushed in rapid succession through my fevered brain ; of Miss Seymour, wild plans of escape, and the prudence of immediately telling her how I loved her, and beseeching her to fly with me at once and seek the Northern lines. At last, towards morning. OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 253 all seemed to whirl through my weary brain together, and in a kind of stupor I fell asleep. The next morning we resumed our usual occupation of grave digging and continued employed at it all day. Had it not been for a most unfortunate rain which fell and lasted all the afternoon, I should have enjoyed another delightful evening with my fair friend. But the rain poured down so persistently and so long that it interfered greatly with the progress of our work, and the disagreeable consequence was that we were com- pelled to labor into the night to get through our painful duty. It will be readily imagined that the Rebels received anything but my thanks and blessings for this state of things, though I could hardly hold them respon- sible with much fairness. The next morning brouglit a renewal of the storm, ' and for three long days and nights I was prevented by this horrible work from seeing my darling once. Tlie work was, too, unusually sickening at this time, the dampness of the atmosphere contributing greatly to the rapid decomposition of the bodies, and the consequent foul odors with which we were assailed. At last upon the evening of the fourth day since I had seen her, the hateful work was done in due season, and I hastened to meet my love. For many evenings 1 enjoyed de- lightful interviews with her, each of which not only proved beneficial and joyous, but implanted in my mind and in my heart memories never to be forgotten. Miss Seymour was not only young and beautiful, but she was elegant and accomplished. There was about her a brilliancy, both personal and mental, that I had never before seen united in the same person. In the ease, dignity, and grace of her manners, she was the 254 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; admiration of all, and lier conversation was so instrnc- tive and varied, so fraught with every embellishment that could render female eloquence charming, and so chastened with piety, that I thought her a paragon, not only of eloquence but of excellence. Evening after evening, as I have said before, I enjoyed her com- pany, her sweet affection and encouragement, her kind words which haunt me even as I write — so good — so con- soling — so loving. Days and nights rolled on, perhaps they were long — we thought them short. Every even- ing to me was one of joy and gladness, of innumerable blessings, of beautiful thoughts and never to be forgot- ten pleasures. We walked in the delightful little groves which surrounded the house, and picked beautiful flow- ers, while the moon danced with delight, and to us seemed to light up the heavens with an unusual bril- liancy. So it went on. But time to me was precious and uncertain. I knew not the day, nor the hour, nay, the minute I might be summoned to headquarters, and sent back into the stockade. To break my parole and escape, if caught would prove my ruin, for the punish- ment was death and unavoidable. Indeed, I had no confidence in an attempt to escape ; I had tried it be- fore, and all my endeavors proved futile. Besides, the dangers that would necessarily have to be faced now in such an undertaking, were greater than at any pre"»^ious time. " To be or not to be," that was the question that in my mind surmounted all others. Was she to be mine or not? She knew that I loved her, — I thought she loved me ; and at last, with an unfaltering, sanguine hope, yet slightly intermingled with fear, I made known to her the emotions of my heart, told her of my love, and asked her to be mine. Her cheeks glowed and her OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOREKCE. 255 eyes, which spoke volumes, sparkled like two precious diamonds as she looked into mine. A moment's hesita tion for deliberation and delicate thought followed, whilst I waited with breathless emotion, till the word "yes " dropped from her ruby lips, when I clasped my arms around her snow-white neck, our lips met, and I thanked God that I had loved and won so precious a jewel, and implored his blessing and protection. There are times in the history of all men, when they have more cause to be happy and contented than at others. Even sometimes amid great sorrow, poverty, mis- fortune and danger, their fondest hopes are realized, their greatest fears made joyful. There is nothing like patience, endurance, hope. God sometimes tries men, even as iron is tried in the burning furnace, to test their faith, their love. Eemember we are never overburdened, God does not impose upon man more than his strength will bear. Only remain firm and faithful, and even though sometimes it be in the last hour, relief, like the good angel, will come to alleviate jour sufferings, to strengthen your mind, to breath new life and hope into every pore of your aching heart, to lighten your sad, depressed spirits, and raise the heavy weight of disap- pointment and misfortune from off j^our soul, that you may praise God in thankfulness and sincerity. To me, this was the happiest of all happy moments in my young- life. My heart was at rest, my mind was filled with a thousand brilliant hopes and anticipations such as only a heart that loves can realize, while I felt within the calm- ness of my very soul that : "Were my whole life to come one heap of troubles, The pleasure of this moment would suffice, And sweeten all my griefs with its remembrance." 256 eOHTHERN PRISONS ; How could I feel otherwise? I was a prisoner of war, shut out from all communication with the outer world, so that if I had a million of friends none could have helped me, because I was far beyond their reach, surrounded upon all sides by the enemy, who hated the very ground upon which I walked. But Miss "Seymour was my friend, and " a friend in need is a friend indeed." Such are few in this world, and especially under such trying circumstances. People do not think half so much of us as we imagine. She was true, even to the last, and may God bless her as do I. Friendless, and she befriended me ; hated by my enemy, she loved me ; in hunger and want, she fed me ; in moments of utter despair, she cheered me on. Is not this consoling, ac- cording to the highest Christian standard % Is it not charity combined with love and affection in the truest sense of our duty \ Yes, such deeds are noble and gen- erous, they are the life of Christianity, and the light and guiding star of civilization. They raise up before the eyes of mankind, like great mountains of precious mar- ble or gold ; they are recorded in golden letters in the eternal book of life, and even the angels in heaven re- joice in triumph at their lustre, their brilliancy, their sweetness, and they stand as imperishable monuments to the glory of women. Such deeds mount to heaven without appeal ; the arm of the giver is made strong, their footpaths blessed, and it calls down upon their heads innumerable blessings. When on their deathbeds the good angel stands firmly by their sides w^atching, so that when life is extinct, they may carry them safely to an everlasting reward. During all the delicious hours that we spent here together in the evening, nothing dis- turbed our delight, and even "the roofs with joy re- OR, .TOSIE, THE HEEOHSTE OF FLOREE'CE. 25') sounded," as we whiled away the time with loving endearments and inspiring felicity. To me the hated pri- son ceased to be a terror, and from this moment I thought of naught else but her who had not only saved my life, but with kind words, true womanly affection and love, had caused it to bloom afresh, and made my hap^Diness almost complete. Josie was not only good, pure at heart, and beautiful as Venus, but she possessed the wisdom of Minerva, and was as tender as the god- dess of love. Even to this day her sweet, consoling words, prey upon my mind, and I sometimes listen and strive to hear them again. That voice, so charming, so enchanting, falls softly upon my ear, like the sweet music of heaven in early morn, and with a magic power tliat I- :!lf; me to exclaim, in the fullness of my soul : " Fair m.iid, when such a soul as thine is born, The morning stars their ancient music make." Of course circumstances would not permit of our being united at once, so that our hopes all rested in the future. Josie, however, promised Avithout reserve, to become my wife, and, as a sweet assurance of her affec- tion, confided to me that she had loved me, even from the moment of our first meeting at Atlanta, which love had been deepened by what she had seen of me on the oc^.asions of our subsequent meetings. For my own part, I resolved, and confided to her my resolution, that I would so cherish this sweet girl that no harm or unhappiness should ever come near her with my con- currence, or which I could possibly prevent. To be sure, I was not possessed of a fortune, through which I might lavish upon Josie all the comforts of life 33 258 SOUTHEEN PRISONS ; that money would purchase, neither could I travel the world over to show her its grandeur — its nothingness. My means were limited, yet I cared not, for I was young, healthy, strong, and devoted to her. I had a brain and two hands to work with, and I hoped by honest industry, energy, and economy, together with Josie's love and encouragement, to soon place myself in business, so that we could live comfortably. True hap- piness, however, is not derived from or found in money alone, it springs up from the heart, and love is its foun- dation. Contentment is the only vein in which happi- ness exists, and there is no contentment where love is not to be found. If we launch out, however, upon the broad ocean of opinion, we find happiness in wealth alone, but there is a wide difference between opinion and reality, and experience teaches us that the former is a mere superstitition, while the latter is all truth. There is nothing like true happiness. A mind at peace, no trouble, no sorrow, no harsh words, no dissipation, no jealousy, no craving for Avhat is out of our reach, no dis- appointment, no revenge — our hopes are not of this world, but in the next ; our faith is in God alone ; we think but little of the perishable goods of this world ; we delight in works of charity ; we love our neighbor as ourselves ; we like to visit the sick, the poor, for they are God' s people ; we like the working man because he toils honestly ; this happy state — how beautiful the thought — the feelings of those who experience it ; the whole countenance wears the mantle of good humor, the face a continuous smile, while the inward soul is launched in a sea of flame, burning with Im^e. Happi- ness sometimes develops itself by charity, kind words, affection ; sometimes through such an outporing of joy. OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOIXE OF FLOEETnTCE. 259 that it enchants all surrounding it — even the weary and broken-hearted forget themselves in its presence, and it draws them into such a strain of laughter, or good nature, that they, too, are made happier. My circum- stances were well known and not misunderstood. ' My heart, my love was Josie' s ; my every action and word were care and kindness ; my every thought tended to the gratification of her wishes ; and had it been neces- sary I could have sacrificed my life to make her's happy. Knowing that escape was a great work, and the cau- tion and preparations necessary to make it successful, I refused that evening to make any definite arrangements for its attempt, though Josie earnestly besought me to fly at once and take her with me, saying that she could not longer endure separation from me, and the thought of my being in the hands of the rebels. I pacified her, however, by loving words, and finally persuaded her to wait as patiently as she could until I should have leisure to think the matter over carefully and fully prepare my plans. The nearest point to us of the Union lines was 160 miles distant, and every avenue to tliot e lines was cov- ered with rebel guards. The only chance that to me seemed feasible was to attempt a passage through the unsettled country, avoiding all highways and moving through the woods as much as possible. To think of taking my darling with me over such a route, liable to meet swamps, which had to be traversed, and exposed to all kinds of fatigue and hardship, was fearful in the extreme to me, and I at once determined that it was net for a moment to be thought of. I left her about ten 260 SOTJTHEKN PEISOKS ; o'clock, the usual hour, and sought my humble quarters, musing on the probabilities of escape, and vainly endea- voring to form some feasible plan which should lead my love and myself to liberty. OE, JOSIE, THE HEKOniTE OF ELOEENCE. 261 CHAPTER XX. REMOVAL TO FLORENCE. The Grave Diggers Escape and are Recaptured. — The " Spread Eagle Stocks." — The Dead Line. — Fearful Misery among the Prisoners. — I Again Escape and reach Miss Seymour's Home. — Our Meet- ing. — I take up my Residence in the Negro Cabins. — The Servant Bob. An hour like this is worth a thousand passed In pomp and ease — 'tis present to the last ! Years glide away untold — 'tis still the same ; As fresh, as fair as on the day it came ! My difficulties were rfiiidered less next morning by an order which was received for a large number of pris- oners to prepare at once to remove to Florence, S. C, the terrible condition of Andersonville having at last excited the apprehensions of the Eebels themselves, and they also fearing that it might be assailed by Sherman, who was rapidly nearing Atlanta. I visited my love the same evening and told her of my destined removal. She welcomed it gladly as she had been desired b}^ her father (who it will be remembered, lived near Florence) to return home, and we should then still be near each other. We agreed that I should go forward with the first collection of prisoners, and as soon as I reached Florence she would devise means of seeing me. I could then certainly make my escape to her father's mansion, 362 SOUTHERIN" PEISOITS ; and once tliere slie would care for me, and I could remain in quiet until I could linally make my escape in company witli herself. She gave me her blessing, a sweet, good-by kiss, and we parted, hoping soon to meet again. Distance, "they say," lends enchantment, but not so with me, for, as we parted, a faint, cold fear thrilled through my veins, and as she retired into the house and was lost to my view, I thought of those lines BO beautifully written — and turning my eyes upon that famous prison — I wept : "When forc'd to part from those we love, Though sure to meet to-morrow ; We yet a kind of anguish prove And feel a touch of sorrow. But oh ! what words can paint the fears, "When from those friends we sever, Perhaps to part for months — for years — Perhaps to part forever." The next morning I went to Captain Wirtz, as did also quite a number of my companions, and told him I was sick and totally unfit to perform work such as digging graves, but he refused most positively to release me from the duty. Having in this brutal manner refused to grant us leave to return wdthin the camp and relieve us from our parole, all the men engaged in grave digging determined to escape, and, accordingly, that night the whole crowd, numbering forty in all, made their escape. They got off, however, with but little start before their absence was discovered and pursuit commenced, bloodhounds, cav- alry and infantry all joining in the pursuit. The conse- quence was that the next day every man was retaken The Spread.^agle ^tocks OB, JOSIE, THE HEEOI"N^E OF FLOEElSrCE. 263 and severely punished. For myself I was placed in the "Spread Eagle Stocks" for twelve hours, during which period I very nearly perished. These stocks were, first a beam with holes for the ankles, which were fastened in, the victim standing upright, then the neck was fast- ened in another, the body being stretched up just as far as was possible without pulling out the joints ; the arms were in the same way stretched out to their utmost limit and fastened in side beams. It will be obvious that after a few hours this torture became frightful, and it is a pitiable fact that many Union soldiers died while undergoing this horrible barbarity. At the end of twelve hours, and wiien nearly dead, I was released, and by Wirtz's order sent back into camp. On my return to the prison proj)er at Andersonville, I found that a great change for the worse had taken place since my exit. , The men had grown fearfully pale, cadaverous and ghastly. They M^ere famished", sick and the prey of devouring anxiety, so that they more nearly resembled ghosts than human beings. It was clear that only a small part of them could survive the next few months, and many grew reckless, so that the famous dead line had no longer any terrors for them, as they preferred to perish by the bullet rather than by an inevitable death of sickness or hunger. The feel- ings of many of the men in reference to this notorious Dead Line is thus expressed by a New IIampshii*e poet, one of our volunteers : 264 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; "THE DEJ^D LIISTE" AT ANDEESONVILLE Prom his box the rebel soldier watch'd his sad and weary foe, While the moon in solemn silence seem'd unwilling far to go, As if it did wish to whisper to the sad and weary there, How it smiled o'er Western prairies and New England valleys fair; And the starving son looked on it, and the weeping mother too, One at home and one in prison, but their hearts together drew, And the pining husband saw it, and his fond and longing wife. One looked from her chamber sleepless, one was trying to hold life ; Oh ! the moon was brightly beaming as it on its wAj did roam, And it lit the soldier's prison and it lit his far-off home, Wife and molher ask'd beneath it, where's my husband and my boy, Months have pass'd since I heard from them, and shall time my hopea destroy ? Son and husband ask'd beneath it, where's the mother and the wile ? Do they know now how I suTer ? how I m loth to part with life? Do they know the peril of it, if we leave this dwarfish pine. And without a moment's warning put our feet on the Dead Line ? Distant friends, how we have suffered for want of food and clothes, How we've daily pined with hunger, but the God of Heaven know^ And how we have had no shelter from the sun and from the storm, Ah ! it sent to yonder grave-yard, many a once stout noble form. Ah ! we've seen the light of hope leaving many a once bright eye, And wfe've seen the strong and robust turn to skeletons and die, And we knew why they were numbered with the cold and silent dead Was because they had no shelter, and ate filth instead of bread, And we heard how the distant fond ones, from the Golden State to Maine, Send thetn blankets to wrap round them, send them food too to sustain, But the minions of Jeff Davis robb d the starving pris'ners there, While their chivalry they boasted, and their leader form'd a prayer, 'Twas a prayer for aid from Heaven on the Traitor's cherished plan, As if God himself could sanction all the ways they murdered man. OR, .TOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 265 As if he could look with favor on the fiends who there combine To cause famine and exposure to march some to the Dead Line. And why should the traitor soldier be too cautibus ere he fires ? And why should he loudly challenge, when so glowing his desires ? And why would he not aim steady when he gets a leader's praise, And if thus he shoots a Yankee, has a furlough thirty days ? Other nights they may be dismal, and the line may pass from view, Still the blood-hounds tramed to watching, watch the weak and heln- less too. And the sentinels are knowing that his food has made him so. That his stomach is disorder'd and his face portrays his woe, And for him they have no pity, for their hearts like rivers freeze, Though he suffers from starvation and the inroads of disease, Still the glimmering hope is cherished 'mid the many dangers there. That again he may be knowing a fond wife or mother^s care, And he ponders as he wanders, Nature does assert its right, And each sentinel well knoweth the poor pris'ner's dreadful plight, But oh ! nothing say unto him, from him hide the mark of pine. For you'll never get a furlough if you warn him from the line. Hark ! there is a scream of terror, traitor minions heed it not. For it's not of much importance, but a Yankee soldier shot I Not a fence was there to warn him, and the marks were hard to view, But a "reb'' has got a furlough and a pris'ner's missing too ! See another squad of Yankees shriv'ring by that dwarfish pine, How we wish when we were guarding some would try to cross the line, 'Tis a wonder they don't try it when they have to sufier so, And it is our ^ ader's study how to starve or freeze each foe, Or that he may not be useful in the foeman's ranks again. And the pale and tott'ring " Yankees " tell the hope is not in vain, While they from their Northern prisons stouter send our pris'ners back With no crushed hopes in their bosoms and no blood-hounds on theii, track. And to keep their hard-earned money they did not in vain beseech, Nor wh«n wishing for an apple pay a dollar bill for each, 266 souTHEKif PRisoisrs ; And no Federal had a furlough to maice nopes the brighter shine, 'Till he shot a helpless foemen some five feet from the Dead Line. Who'll forget the rude old wagons, in which they our dead convey'd, And the loathesome, shabby manner, in which brothers there were laid ? Who'll forget the same rude wagons, in which they convey'd our dead, After served another purpose — that of bringing us our bread, — That of bringing us our " corn-cob " — which they cruelly call'd meal, While the life-blood from the soldiers it would like a robber steal ? Who'll forget the putrid " beef-heads " twenty men on one to dine, Peas in which huge worms were gathered as if drawn in battle-line ? Who'll forget the black swamp water and the crocodiles near by ? Who'll forget the chains so heavy in which foes let pris'ners die ? Who'll forget the smoky pine-fires round which clustered " heart-sick bands," Speaking of the friends they treasured while they look'd like " contra- bands ?" Who'll forget the rampant villains saying we deserv'd our lot, And the " unknown " who were buried in the trench — a fearful spot? — Who'll forget the countless horrors, there's no book the tenth could tell, For Camp Sumpter nothing lacketh to make it The Earthly Hell! See the grave-yard yonder swelling with the prisoners paroled, Let us trust their noble spirits have gone to their Savior's fold I Ah ! how many forms were murdered in a cold and shocking way. Can their treatment be forgotten while our souls are in their clay? It needs something more than human to forget what brave men bore, To forget the grave-yard swelling and the hearts that suffer sore, To forget the noble comrades, who did perish midst our foes, For the want of food and shelter, while the Rebels stole their clothes, To forget the horrid treatment mortal man must feel to know. There's no human comprehension that can realize the woe, But be tried as foes have tried us, fearing that we would survive, And you'll wonder that a mortal left that earthly hell alive I There were many — many spirits — left Camp Sumpter and took flight, OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. * 267 As if they had wings of angels, to the land of life and light, Many who were often longing they coulH leave the dwarfish pine, And the angels bade them welcome, far outside of the Dead Line- The above lines are beautiful, because of the truth they contain, yet tliey do not begin to describe the sufferings that our heroic soldiers passed through or endured. Here were upwards of thirty thousand men, prisoners of war, locked up in a rebel prison, shut out from all society, deprived of even the privilege of breathing the exhileratinaj fresh air, hated and des- pised by half a nation because of their fidelity to the Union, deprived of nourishment enough to sustain life ; "starved," with no shelter from the cold or storms, or from the almost unbearable burning heat of a Southern sun ; living in an atmosphere stilling, pestilent, sicken- ing, and poisonous beyond all imagination ; surrounded by a stockade of unhewn logs, with guards perched upon the top thirsting for the blood of their wretched victims, treated worse than savages or brutes ; wretched in the extreme, some rotting by inches with disease, some so weak from long imprisonment and cruel treatment that they were totally unable to walk. When a prisoner reached that degree of wretchedness and suf- fering, the sight was mournful and heartrending to be- hold. The prison ground was literally covered and alive with vermin, and some prisoners were actually eaten alive by lice and maggots. The pitiful cries of the starv- ing prisoners for bread were fearful, and the unearthly and inhuman sound of the dying man' s voice was mourn- ful and sickening to hear— sometimes crying for help, at other times, while in a sort of a delirium, talking to a loving wife at home, or a mother or father, askino- of them theii- last blessing ; others would mention the name 268 SOUTHERN PRISOT^S; of their sweetheart or a dear friend, but to them, alas, no help came until death relieved them of their suffering. Others, discouraged, and having lost all hope of relief, unwillingly gave up the ghost ; others, young and deli- cately constituted, were soon overcome by that terriblf^ life destroyer, hunger. Indeed it was here that every form of human misery and suffering could be daily wit- nessed. Some with one foot eaten off by gangrene, others unable to move, with the dropsy, some minus a hand or an arm, some with large sores all over their body, some, upon being taken down suddenly with dis- ease, lost their senses and became raving maniacs until death. Here is a prisoner looking fondly upon a photo- graph, going closer to him I observed a. woman' s facft, " sweet as an angel's." He also had another picture of a little child ; I supposed, of course, they were his wife and child, his trembling hands yet held them up to his gaze, and as he looked fondly at them, and kissed them, he uttered words, but they were not audible, large tears rolled down his pale, ghastly, sunken cheeks, and his eyes that had grown dim with suffering and anxiety over those loved ones, rolled fiercely in their sunken sockets, as if they would leave them, a few moments more pain and misery, a deep, hollow-like moan, and all was over — death had relieved him of his suffering. Yet this is only one case of which there were thousands. Never before has the world known or history recorded such hellish deeds as were here perpetrated, neither has the world ever gazed upon nature so fearfully mangled, so basely deibrmed or wretched. Would to God that I could but give you even a faint idea of what Anderson- ville really was, with its sickening, horrifying, pitiful specimeus of living death ; but I cannot ; there are no OR, JOSIB, THE HEKOIlSrE OE FLORENCTE. 269 urotds in the English language capable of convejdng to yon the reality. In this way I might go on endlessly '^peating the suffering of our heroic soldiers, and the ;>nielties inflicted upon them by a fiendish, malicious, and barbarous enemy. But is not this sufllcient ? Have I not said enough for all to understand ? Can you not realize the suffering, the enormity of the wicked deeds and high cnmes of a brutal enemy, the insults offered to thousands of brave Union soldiers, who had faced the fierce storms of forty bloody battles in defence of their country. But the heart grows sick and weary of relating these atrocious deeds, and I will, therefore, leave the reader to his own imagination as to the rest. Indeed, it is only those who have passed through the terrible ordeal who can fully appreciate its horrors, the reality of which can never be effaced from my memory. The next day the first five hundred were ordered to be sent at once to Florence, S. C. ; when I was returned to the camp, however I was placed in the tenth hundred, and was thus apparently condemned to a still further sojourn in hateful Andersonville, unless I could devise some plan by which I could get myself transferred to Another hundred. After some inquiries, cautiously made, as to who were going, I learned that a John Ryan, belonging to the second hundred, had died and had not yet been reported to the sergeant in charge. A scheme at once occurred to me, and I instantly got ready, and when the name of John Ryan was called I stepped boldly forward into iiis place and went out with the squad, the officer engaged in detailing the men not know- ing me personally. At nine o'clock in the morning we were under way On a train of cars, and as they moved off slowly, I took a last good look upon that fatal pris- 270 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; on. All the bitter memories of the past rushed wildly to my brain, and I recalled with a feeling such as no human mind could well conceive, heart feel, or language por- tray, the bitter sufferings, the unceasing pangs of hun- ger and cold, the heart-trying moments of the past. I looked upon those "stocks," stained with the blood of our heroic dead ; upon those instruments of torture the iron balls so often carried by the sick, fainting, prisoner. I looked upon those massive doors of that gloomy, dismal stockade, and thought how often they had been closed against hope, life and liberty. I looked into those dark, underground tunnels, and saw the weary prisoner digging his way to liberty, with a desperate energy that was pitiful to behold. I viewed the interior of the stockade. It was as silent as if breathless, and there I saw hundreds of loved ones perishing in their own filth, without aid or consolation. It seemed like the tomb — and angels must have wept over the heart-rending cries of its starving occupants. I looked into the ever vigi- lant eyes of those blood thirsty sentinels ; and I saw the hopeless prisoner as he crossed the fatal "line" and perished from the bullet shot from a coward' s gun, and I asked myself is humanity truly dead, is there no such thing as pity — has God forgotten the noble heroes of our Republic — are they all doomed to perish ? And I looked upon that lonely grave-yard in the dim distance, which contained its army of dead martyrs. And last of all, I saw Wirtz, whose pale features were plainly stamped with the bitter remorse of a murderer. I of- fered up a parting prayer for my surviving comrades, called down God' s blessing upon the dead, and with a last fond look upon that green mound of earth I re- peated these words : OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOEENCE. 271 " Farewell I the early dews that fall ' Upon that grass-grown-bed, '. Are like the thoughts that now recall The image of the dead. A blessing hallows thy dark cell — I will not stay to weep — Farewell." We supposed, of course, that we were going to Flor- ence, South Carolina. It turned out, however, that for some reason or other our destination was changed and we were sent to Savannah, Georgia, a change which dis- gusted me exceedingly, as it was taking me away from Miss Seymour, instead of carrying me towards her. When we reached that point, however, the authorities did not take us in charge, hut forwarded us at once to Florence. We reached there about three o'clock in the afternoon of the following day. At this station abundant opportunity was offered for escaping, and during the first three days no less than one hundred prisoners disappeared, the majority never to return again. As for myself, I had no desire to escape at this time, but simply to again see my darling, and plan some attempt by which I might carry her away with me. I soon learned where Miss Seymour resided, being a distance of about fourteen miles from the camp, and determined at once to get away from the prison and make straight for her house. The very next day an opportunity offered. A squad of men was each day detailed to bring water from a cave in the rocks some distance off, there being none in camp, and a spring there falling from out an orifice in the rocks. I chanced to be among the squad detailed, and noticing that the sergeant did not count us, I resolved to take advantage of the darkness which completely shadowed the back 272 SOUTHEKN PBISONS ; of the cavern, and after the water was drawn and the squad ready to return, to remain in the gloom and trust to stay there unobserved, until I could hastily emerge and make with safety a speedy exit. The scheme worked to perfection. Though the Rebel sergeant examined the cave a little, he failed to notice me, and within a few minutes after the squad left, I came forth and swiftly plunged into the woods. I ran through them nearly three miles without stopping, and walked four miles that day without rest, fearing pursuit. For the night, I stopped in a sweet potato field, on the vegetables of which I made a hearty lunch. After resting a short time I pushed forward and traveled all that night, through swamps and brush heaps, and over the roughest roads that I had ever experienced in my life. Early in the morning, I arrived at what I conjec- tured to be the mansion of Miss Seymour's father. It was a beautiful residence, built in the true Southern style, surrounded by beautiful trees, and everything about it betokening generous hospitality and wealth. Looking about the premises, not far from the neat negro cabins, not wishing to be observed from the house, I" at last saw a negro servant and asked him if that was Mr. Seymour' s place. He answered in the affirmative, and, after some other conversation, he told me he must go, as he had to saddle the horse of Miss Seymour for her morning ride. I gladly excused him, and, feigning to go away myself, I hastily moved into a piece of woods skirting the highway, and there behind a large oak, I awaited my darling' s approach. As she drew n^ar me, I stepped gently from my concealment, so as not to alarm her, and in a moment my love was dismounted and again in my arms. OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 2/.:i I narrated to Josie full particulars concerning my present situation, and my plans and projects, and, it being evident that for tlie present partial concealment was necessary, she recommended that my temporary quarters should be taken up in one of the best of the negro cabins, which were generally comfortable, and the one selected for my use was especially convenient and pleasant. There were a long row of these huts situated at a distance of two or three hundred yards from the mansion, and all neatl}^ whitewashed, as well as surrounded by little patches of gardens, which were carefully and successfully cultivated by the negroes, who raised the vegetables required for their support, and usually maintained, each, a little stock of poultry. The meat consumed by them was furnished by the pro- prietor of the plantation, and generally consisted of bacon, which was raised in great quantities at the South, and was almost invariably of excellent quality, partic- ular attention being paid to the cultivation of corn, which constituted the material on which hogs were there fattened, and which rendered the meat of very solid and superior quality. The bacon was salted in large quan- tities by the planters, and in this form generally used, though at intervals fresh meats were served to the negroes, yet bacon, salt or fresh, was the usual article of meat diet. The negro quarters were also beautified by flowers in the gardens, and by shade trees, which were plentifully scattered over the grounds that were devoted to resi- dence purposes, whether of the proprietor or the ser- vants. On the fields devoted to uses of cultivation there were of course few trees, the space generally being en- tirely open, and employed for cotton, rice and corn, on 35 274 southeej^ prisons ; the two first of whicli the planters relied mainly for the money product of their plantations, while to the corn crop was credited the production of a staple article of food and material for the sustenance of stock, cattle and horses being raised and maintained to a considerable extent in addition to hogs. My quarters embraced two rooms, one of which 1 used as a sitting room, and the other as a bed room. My benefactress had most kindly provided me with every convenience and comfort which could be crowded into no greater compass, cosy and yet elegant furniture, embracing easy chairs, so , dear to a man who for years had buffeted the storms of war, and who now was enjoying almost entire leisure, and therefore was neces- sarily condemned to lead, much of the time, a life of seclusion, and was thrown much upon hunself for plea- sure and occupation. There were cool curtains shutting out the sun, and books, engravings, and a host of little elegances and comforts which so greatly add to the enjoyments of a home. Josie had also sent me by Bob a new suit of clothing, both over and under, which were not only a great con- venience to me, but would have been almost a positive necessity A box of cigars, and some other creature comforts, so dear to a soldier used to the privations, and even miseries of camp life, were also added. Indeed, I considered that for many reasons I had truly fallen into pleasant places on many accounts, not the least of which was the opportunity it afibrded me of renewing and making far more intimate my acquaintance with Miss Sejnuour, which I now might reasonably expect would be continued, and become closer and dearer than ever before, unless some misfortune occurred to us through OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREIS'CE. 275 the intervention of the Rebels again, which did not seem likely at that time at any event, or without some warn- ing. I say this because I had been placed by Josie under the especial charge of her own servant, Bob, and he had oeen given particular instructions to watch over me with the utmost care, and see that I came to no harm. With this view he took pains to be on the look- out carefully for the coming of any parties who might be dangerous ta my security, or inform the Confeder- ates of my whereabouts. Of any search for me by them with a view to my apprehension, there seemed little like- lihood, as the country in the vicinity of the prison from which I had escaped had undoubtedly been thoroughly beaten at the time of my taking leave, and the house of Miss Seymour, the daughter of a wealthy Southern planter, supposed to be thoroughly devoted to the Southern cause, seemed the last place in the world where I would be likely to seek shelter, as from the Rebel officers' view, I could reasonably have expected nothing less than at once to be giyen up to the Confed- erate authorities. The servant Bob was accustomed to follow his young mistress in all her riding excursions, first having groomed and saddled her horse, and almost at once after my arri- val on the plantation he became aware of the relation which the being whom I loved and myself sustained to each other, and with that attachment and faithful watch- fulness which distinguished him, as they did very many of the house servants, or the petted slaves of the South, he obeyed the instructions of Josie to the letter, wait- ing on my wants, caring for my apartments, and attend- ing Josie and myself whenever we went out together. From his position, too, he exercised no little influence 276 SOFTHERIS^ PRISOT^^S ; over all the other "people," as they were called npoB the plantation, and took such measures as secured gen- eral watchfulness as to what strangers might at any time arrive in the neighborhood, yet without exercising such plans of surveillance as might have excited any suspicions. Bob had grown grey in the sei-vice of Col. Seymour, and was possessed of a vast amount of information con- cerning the plantation, its. owner, the neighbors, the character and peculiarities of the vicinity, and was well instructed in reference to the present condition of the South, so far, at least, as related to the state of the interior, while he had, too, gathered not a little knowl- ed^re to^:!cl)ing the present state of the war going on, its likelihood to turn out disastrous to the South, and the probable abolition of slavery through its instrumentality. Although he had been himself a petted servant, still he was fully informed that slavery was in iiself an unmitigated curse to any race, and looked with all the longings of any of his oppressed people to the time when bondage should everywhere be broken throughout the great land, and the country be indeed that of the free. In a short time after I became domiciled at the mansion. I grew somewhat intimate with Bob, and from short conversations with him at first, I soon learned to look upon him with interest, and to talk with hira fully and freely, eliciting much information on topics which were beginning to have a deeper interest for me each day. OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOEEITCE. 277 CHAPTER XXI. AN EARTHLY PARADISE. My Residence at the Mansion. — The Loyal League.-— Sweet Inter- views and Moonlight Rides. If it were now to die, 'Twere now to be most happy ; for I fear My soul hath her content so absolute. That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown late ShaXrspeare. Very shortly after I was installed in my new quarters, Miss Seymour paid me a visit. Of course I did not pre- sume to visit lier at the house of her father, from whom we were making every effort to conceal my presence ; and Josie, therefore, with the true, unbounded love which disregards in such circumstances, scruples which would ordinarily constrain a girl in her treatment of a lover, visited me often at my cabin. On the occasion of the first visit she told me that her father was preparing to visit Richmond, and intended to go by the evening train, leaving the house for Florence, the nearest railroad station, about 5 p. m ; that during the day she should be obliged to assist him at the mansion in m.aking prejD- arations, and should accompany him to the depot ; that it would be impossible for her to see me again during the day, and it might be too late if she waited until she returned. It was therefore agreed upon that any further 278 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; meeting on the day in question was not to be thought of; but she invited me with the utmost kindness and graciousness to come to the mansion on the next morn- ing, if I should receive from Bob information that her father had completed his preparations and had actually left the vicinity. It was with a heart burning with love and gratitude that I thanked her for the great kindness and courtesy which she had continually shown me dur- ing my whole captivity, than which no greater could have been manifested towards a lover of wealth and power, whereas, I was but an escaped prisoner, entirely dependent upon her bounty at the present time, though I fervently assured her that if I ever succeeded in reach- ing the North, I hoped with her precious self, no care or tenderness should be wanting on my part to render her happy or her lot a fortunate one. Mutual protesta- tions of affection followed, in which each one of us pledged to the other unalterable constancy and the deepest love, and she at last tore herself from my em- brace and hastened to the house of her father. After her departure, I turned my attention to the work of improving my personal appearance, which had again been necessarily neglected. I set Bob at the busi- ness of cutting my hair, which had grown very long, and to the task of renovating me generally, and I must confess that under his skilful hands my appearance was so changed and my looks so improved that I could scarcely credit my own reflection in a mirror. A refresh- ing night' s rest, upon a bed which presented to me the first idea of a luxurious sleeping couch that I had en- joyed since my entrance into the army, completed the work of regeneration, and I was able in the morning to present myself before Miss Seymour, appearing like a OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOITTE OF FLOEEITCE. 279 gentleman, I trust both in looks and manners, she ex- pressing fully as mnch surprise at my altered physique as I had felt at gazing at my vision in the mirror. She paid me the rather doubtful compliment of assuring me that now that I was dressed like a gentleman, I was quite good looking The season had now advanced to August 12th, 1864, and the weather was unusually fine, and par- ticularly delightful in the evening, though during the other portions of the day it was intensely warm. At this point in my narrative it occurs to me that I have yet given no detailed description of the mansion of Mr. Seymour, or of the lovely girl who constituted its chief ornament. The mansion was situated upon a slightly inclined piece of ground which rose gradually up from the level lands lying before it, but which, at the point where the mansion stood, was fully four feet above the general level of the plantation On three sides it was surrounded with luxuriant trees, and on the lawn in its front were fragrant gardens of beautiful flowers, which through the watchfulness of their fair mistress were maintained in the most complete perfection, and were a triumph of floriculture, though this result had by no means been brought about without the assistance of zealous gardeners, all negroes, however. Tile mansion itself partook of the form and character usual in the South, being of frame, two stories in height, and having verandas on three sides. The windows were long and large, allowing the air to circulate freely during the heated season, and the whole effect of the house was generous and beautiful, in color being a rich stone color, which had the effect of tempering the rays of the san. The interior was furnished with elegance, but again there was reference to the heat which xirevailed during so 280 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; great a part of the season, and the furniture, hangings, etc., were of cool colors, and seemed to promise, as they effected, relief from the glare and oppression of so many burning days. The parlor was hung with costly paint- ings and engravings, filled with easy inviting chairs and sofas, and I have in it passed perhaps the happiest moments of my life. Of Josie I have hesitated, and still do hesitate to attempt a description, because I feel how imperfectly I can convey to the reader an adequate impression of the loveliness of the young girl, who had so entirely enthralled me. Yet the vision of her beauty, and the nameless charms which surrounded her in those early days, are subjects on which my heart loves to dwell, and which I must fain strive to picture to 'my readers, even though in a faint degree. She was of about the medium height, and of a form that, though elegant and graceful, was yet beautifully moulded, and promised to bloom into a glorious womanhood. Her face was oval, and of the pure olive, that more often in the South than in the North characterizes beautiful women, though rare even there. Through the delicate warm skin, the blood mounted in moments of pleasure or excitement, and the blushes were as beautiful and vivid as ever painted the cheeks of an English blonde. The eyes were deep liquid brown, looking often so truly, so honestly, so lovingly into mine. Ah ! how well I remember the dear, tender eyes. Yet at a tale of wrong, of injury to the unfortunate, of oppression of the down-trodden, of the sufferings of the poor, and the neglect of the rich, the serious and deep orbs told of honest indignation, and on such occasions they flashed forth a scorn of meanness that would have withered the victim on W$i> Iff!? fOTItiin, OR, JOS1J-, TilE HEKOl^^E OF FLORENCE. 281 whom it lighted. The nose was of medium size, not aquiline, but beautifully moulded, while the ears were small pink shells, whose varying and flitting and deli- cate colors reminded me of the beautiful hues of ocean shells. The mouth, and oh ! how dearly do lovers remem- ber the eyes and mouth of those whom they love ; the mouth w^as small, cut in exquisite mould, eloquent of love, yet singularly pure, and the teeth were small and white as pearls. Her hair was of that beautiful blue black, which is at once- so rare, and yet so lovely, and so luxuriant, that Josie w^as often forced with a beau- tiful petulance to chide and restore to their homes the loving tresses that sought to cling about the white, warm neck. The foot and hand were small, handsome, and possessed that tone of firmness, and yet perfect elasticity, which always characterizes the women of high blood. To me, recalling those days of the past, she seems a peerless vision, such as the Almighty sometimes sends to the earth to convey to the men and women beholding them some conception of w^hat divine beauty may be, and of what glorious perfection even the human race may be lifted into, by general lives of purity, honor and allegiance to God. On the morning I have mentioned above, that of August 12th, I had a long interview with Josie— indeed I may say that I spent the bulk of the day with her. I explained to her my residence when at home in the North, Detroit, and told her how I came to join the army, how I happened to be captured at the battle in Tennessee, my adventures afterwards, and the episode of my acquaintance with the soldier who turned out to be a young lady. She listened with intense earnestness, 36 282 ' SOUTPIEKN PRISONS ; and then for the first time made known to me the name of the girl, Miss Emma Grosvenor. This venturesome young lady was sent by the rebels back within our lines to her home, having suffered no molestation, but having gained the respect of even the rebels themselves by her modesty and courage. I told Josie, too, of my varied experiences in prison life, of my numerous escapes, and of my final journey to the house of her father. We were not, however, dependent for amusement on conversation alone. Josie sang and played beautifully, and was as generous as my heart could wish in her kindness towards me in these respects. We dined together, and whiled away the afternoon in delightful conversation. Towards evening, as the dusk came on, and there was little danger of our being closely observed, even if we were seen by any passer by, we told Bob to saddle the horses, and we determined to go out riding on horseback. We rode away from the house in a dir- ection different from any in which I had hitherto ap- proached the mansion, under the guidance of Miss Sey- mour, who seemed entirely familiar with the route. As for myself, I asked no questions at first as to whither we were going, my happiness being too complete at being so near my fair conductress to admit of much curiosity. At length, however, after riding five or six miles, I ventured to suggest to Josie that we were get- ting rather far from home, and asked if she had any de- finite object in the course she was taking. She then confided to me a fact that I had often suspected, though hitherto it had been a mere suspicion, caused by rumors which I had heard floating about among the soldiery, both Union and Rebel, that there had existed in the South during almost the whole time of the war, at least since OB, JOSIE, THE HEROHiTE OF' FLOEEIS'CE. 283 the organization could be formed after the firing upon Fort Snmpter, a Union League, that is a confederation of men loyal to the Government, who had never at heart embraced Secession, though compelled outwardly to subscribe to the cause, and apparently agreeing in view with the Confederates. To this body Mr. Seymour be- longed, among it he numbered his truest friends, and in the body were families with whom Josie was on unusually intimate terms, and whom she considered her truest associates. The members of this league were almost all men somewhat advanced in life, as it was considered useless to enroll young men who might at any moment be drafted into the army, and the objects of the organiza- tion were to operate silently at the South in fostering and keeping alive union sentiment, so that, as soon as a fa- vorable opportunity should occur, they might speak and act openly in tlie interest of peace. That time had not yet come, but it was evident that it was approach- ing, and the members of the league grew bolder and more confident daily. The organization numbered sev- eral thousands of men throughout the South, but com- munication was necessarily secret, and ho general meet ing of the body had been or was held, as such a gather- ing in the face of a people infuriated by disaster and mortification, as the Southerners then were, would prob- ably have precipitated the members of the league into open hostilities with the Rebels. Yet the leaguers were not without the means of cor- responding with one another ; messengers were constant- ly going to and fro throughout the South, carrying mis- sions, often merely by word of mouth, and often written in a cipher understood only by a few of the leading 284 SOTJTHERN PRISOKS ; minds of the leagues. These messengers generally pro- fessed to he epgaged upon their own business simply, and always being men of position in their localities, and being able to carry letters of recommendation signed by men known throughout the entire South, were unhes- itatingly allowed to pass wherever they might desire to go. It is probable that the Confederate Government suspected the existence of some such organization, but, if so, it either did not deem it of sufficient danger to warrant a close investigation, or it concluded that the character of the men composing it was such that, so long as no active hostility to the Gfovernment was un- dertaken, it was best left alone. For they were men of wealth and power, Whose loyal hearts craved not for slavery, But for liberty and union. It was towards the house of one of the members of this league that Josie was taking me ; for several rea- sons, but principally because she wished me to know them, and because it might very likely turn out that the members might be of use to me in regaining my home and, I cannot help thinking she thought, of enabling me to carry her away with me. At once, on her ac- quainting me with her destination and the character of the men whom we were about to visit, I perceived the immense value of the intimacy which she proposed to bring about, and I resolved to cultivate and improve it to the utmost. A ride of a couple of miles farther, in the moonlight, which was swiftly flooding the fields by this time, brought us to a planter's residence, one of the usual kind, roomy, but low and low-storied, which did not OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOIjSTE OF FLOEEKCE. 285 present any marks of being aught but the home of a well-to-do farmer, but little affected by the war or its losses. In the warm, light evening no lamps had been lit in the house, but sitting on the veranda were several ladies and gentlemen, the former smoking and all en- gaged in chat and conversation about matters of home interest. As we entered the gatewaj^ and rode leisurely up the broad drive-way, I could at once see that the coming upon them of a person with whom the party was totally unacquainted, produced no little surprise, even though accompanied by Miss Seymour, whom all evi- dently knew, and whom, as I afterwards learned, all loved. We rode, however, quietly up to the piazza, and I took Josie from her saddle. A gentleman and lady had stepped forward from the group, to whom she intro- duced me, announcing them as Mr. and Mrs. Jamieson. Leaving me standing aside after I had been most cordi- ally welcomed by them, she exchanged a few confiden- tial words with them, and at once Mr. Jamieson returned to me, grasped me warmly by the hand and presented me to the party of ladies and gentlemen who had clustered round me as a Union soldier, lately a captive, now escaped and brought among them by their darling protege, Miss Seymour. On m}^ introduction, all present welcomed me heart- ily, and I was at once made to feel that I was among friends. The hosts and their guests expressed their hearty sympathy at my varied fortunes, and their joy at being enabled to greet a Union soldier who had risked his life to preserve those principles which they cherished. Within a few minutes I was on intimate terms with the whole group, and narrating my strange adventures by flood and field. Those told amid the 286 SOHTHERN PEISONS; wondering comments of my listeners, we fell into gen- eral conversation concerning the condition of the South and the war, all agreeing that the end could not be far off, but that the North must soon subdue her enemy. This opinion was fortified by what had been learned concerning Sherman's triumphant march to Atlanta, and the desperate tenacity with which Grant clung to Lee at Petersburg and Richmond. During the conversation but little was said concern- ing the League, but I was given fully to understand that any assistance which the members could give me would be heartily at my service, and that in those en- rolled I had already warm friends, especially in view of my presentation by Miss Seymour, whom all adored. I was also instructed in the signs by which I might rec- ognize any members of the League, whenever, and wherever I might chance to meet them, and told that I could be admitted within the organization whenever I might choose. After a visit of an hour or two, Miss Seymour and myself returned to the mansion. Of the delight of that moonlight ride I dare hardly speak here. It seems sacred. My love and I were in beautiful harmonious accord. Not much was said during the journey home- ward, but the silence was eloquent. The timid, yet true, clasp with which my love met the hand which stole towards her, told of a love as modest as Diana's, as warm and constant as that of Venus, and as true as that of Dido, the Carthagenian queen, for J^naeas, the Trojan adventurer. The time of our bliss, alas, too quickly drew to a close. An hour or so of moderate riding brought us to our homes, iind I sought the friendly shelter and obscurity of my hut, while my love Mi OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 287 repaired to lier father's Louse, not, however, before she had sweetly kissed me good night and wished me happy dreams. Can it be doubted that with such an intercessor I enjoyed delightful visions? The next morning I arose early, and first partook of a hearty breakfast that had been carefully cooked by Bob ; after that came a line Havana cigar, provided by my benefactress, and for which I was as thankful as men can only be who have undergone a long season of campaigning, and to whom the delightful weed was but strange company. Enjoying my smoke, I waited quietly for what the events of the day might bring forth. I had hardly finished my cigar, when I noticed Josie riding slowly down the roadway leading to my cabin. I went out of the door to greet her and exchange the saluta- tions of the morning when she dismounted some lit- tle distance from my hut, and I had the great felicity of holding her in my arms a minute while I was lifting her from the saddle. I tied her horse to a tree near by, and walked with her arm-in-arm to the hut, where we waited until Bob should bring me also a saddled horse on which I could accompany her on an early ride. I drew Josie down upon the sofa beside me, and stole my arm about her waist. In fond caresses her lips met mine, and she whispered to me the soft secret of her love, no longer with any hesitation save that of maidenly timidity, because she had promised to be my wife, and we both awaited only the coming of more fortunate times to be united, and become all in all to one another. Bob's appearance with the horses, however, put a sudden termination to our delightful reveries and recalled us to sublunary cares. The horses were spir- 288 soTJTHER]sr PRISONS ; ited and fast, the morning was yet cool and delightful, the roads were hard and excellent, and our morning's sport passed off most joyously. We rode for miles along country roadways, through grassy lanes, peering into dense clumps of wood which seemed to partake of thf^ nature of the forests of the tropics, and which were .%11 of rich blossoms and leaves, and over which heavy creepers crawled in luxurious profusion. These forests did not invite a closer examination, as they were dark, and, despite the rich foliage and blossoms, seemed gloomy, as no doubt they were when fairly entered. We rode by shining rivulets flowing over beds of shingly gravel, and whose waters, though dark, were yet as clear as crystal, giving a curious impression from their gloomy lucidness. We saw in the distance fields of grain and cotton, but we were too happy to do more than mark the operations of toilsome industry. For us, the forest, the river, and whatever told of beauty, alone had charms. OK, JOSIE, THE HEKOIU'E OF FLORENCE. 289 CHAPTER XXII. MR. SEYMOUR'S RETURN. Miss Seymour's Governess. — Return of Mr. Seymour. —His Discovery of me. — Angry Interview. — His Daughter's Prayers at last trium- phant. Love does reign In stoutest minds and maketh monstrous war: He maketh war, but maketh peace again. Spenser. Tlie Savannahs of tlie South are peculiar in their na- ture, the luxuriance of the grasses, the rich magnifi^ cence of its vegetation, the heavy forests which usually encircle them, and Josie and I enjoyed those features of the landscape to our hearts' content. On our ride we repeated our vows of continual constancy to one another, and swore to be true, no matter what might betide either. Josie told me all her previous history, how when young she had had a governess of Northern extraction, how she had never received any other womanly advice or instruction, her mother having died when she was a child, and all the particulars concerning her governess. Miss Evans, a young lady wiio had come to the South from New England, and concerning whom there was a romantic story. It seemed that this young lady was the daughter of persons of former wealth and influence at the North, 37 290 SOUTHERN PRISOT^S ; whose means had become reduced by the Tinfortunate speculations of her father. Compelled to earn her own livelihood, she had sought the South as the place where her education might be most available. She had first made an engagement in a family in North Carolina, and there had been employed in the home of a Mr. Duncan. He had two daughters and an only son. The usual con- sequence of bringing together an impressible young man and a heart-free and cultivated young lady followed. The young man became violently enamored of the girl, and she returned his affection. His sentiments, however, she could not openly reciprocate, on account of her inferior position in the family of his father. The attach- ment soon came to the knowledge of Mr. Duncan, and the young man was forbidden to entertain any such absurd notion as that of marrying a governess. She was compelled to leave the house, and sought for em- ployment farther south in the house of Mr. Sejnnour, where she remained during the period which elapsed throughout the education of Miss Seymour. Then she returned to her New England home, and was soon sought in marriage by her former suitor, whom she accepted and married. As Josie and I reviewed the history of Miss Evans and her lover, we could but be reminded of our own attachment, and the doubts and uncertainties which overhung it, and we returned to the mansion feeling somewhat graver, but yet hoping that our love might have as auspicious a termination as did theirs. We reached home about ten o'clock, and after the interchange of loving embraces, she returned to her father' s and I to my cabin, having determined again on the morrow to ride out together. OE, JOSIE, THE HEROIjS^E OF FLORENCE. 291 Both Josie and myself were naturally very anxious concerning tlie movements of Mr. Seymour and his re- turn, which must, of course, take place sooner or later, and which we had too much reason to believe would not now be very long delayed. The next morning after our ride Josie paid me a long visit at my cabin. She con- fided to me all her hopes as well as fears springing from her father' s expected return, while I consoled her anxie- ties as best I knew how, and strove to make her as cheer- ful and happy as it was possible under the circumstan- ces. After a tender interview of an hour, Bob again appeared with the horses, and we again started for a long ride, which lasted until nearly noon, when we re- turned, Josie repairing to the mansion and I going to my cabin. The next day I received through Bob, from Josie, an invitation to call and see her at the mansion, a kindness which I was not slow to avail myself of. While there my love and I held a long conversation touching the pre- sent condition of the Confederacy, she having obtained some late papers, both Union and Confederate, which discussed quite fully the situation. It was plain as daylight that the South was swiftly losing ground, that the triumph of the North was but a question of time, and in this prospect both Josie and I rejoiced exceed- ingly. A long day of delight followed, and the next day we went upon a fishing excursion together, which was productive of some beautiful specimens of the finny tribes peculiar to the Southern country, where the fish differ materially from those caught in our Northern waters, but are hardly less delicious. We dined together in the evening, after which we strolled out for a walk. It was a beautiful moonlight 292 SOUTHEEN PMSOTirs ; night : the air was cool, the sky was bright and clear, and the stars, of which the heavens were full, twinkled, and shone more brilliantly than diamonds ; the shady trees nnder which we walked kept the grassy walk dry from the dew. Indeed it was one of those calm, brilliant eve- nings which awaken every feeling of nature, and fill the heart and soul with thoughts more beautiful than can possibly be imagined. Winding up a steep ascent, we came to a green summit, which appeared, among the savage rocks that environed it, like the blossom on the thorn. It was a spot formed for solitary delight, inspir- ing that soothing tenderness so dear to the feeling mind, and which calls back to memory the images of past regret, softened by distance, and endeared by frequent recollections. Wild shrubs grew from the crevices of the rocks beneath, and the high trees of pine and cedar that waved above, afforded a melancholy and romantic shade. The silence of the scene was interrupted only by the breeze, as it slowly swept over the woods, and by the solitary conversation of Josie and myself. Josie, who was born amid scenes of grandeur and sublimity, had quickl}^ imbibed a taste for their charms, which was heightened by the influence of a warm imagination To view the moon in the evening, or the beautiful sun in the morning rising above the hills, tinging their snowy heads with light, and suddenly darting his rays over the whole face of nature ; to see the fiery splendor of the clouds reflected in the river below, and the roseate tints first steal upon the rocks above, were among the earliest pleasures of which Josie was susceptible. Josie, too, was possessed of a mind that had been cul- tivated in its fine noble feelings, and was an ardent lover of nature. "It may be well to add that a careful OE JOSIE. THE HEEOIT^E OF FLOREIS'CE. 293 observation, and a sincere love of nauure, will most effectually cultivate those pure and delicate sentiments wliicli betoken a lofty constitution of mind. Many sucll lovers of the beautiful and the good in the works of God, are to be found in the humblest walks of life, with small social importance, and a few advantages for gen- eral culture, while many who occupy high stations, and enjoy every advantage, are as dead and insensible to all that is lovely and beautiful in creation, as the horses they drive or the stones beside their path. How much our estimation of a person is increased by some obser- vation which shows their notice and appreciation of nature, not only of what is great and grand, but what is small and beautiful or curious. The mountain, the cataract, the ocean, may well attract the notice of even a casual observer ; but the true student and lover of nature will see the faded leaf, the frail spire of grass, the insignificant insect as well, and detect in these the amazing work, and the surpassing wisdom of God. Nor is this observation and study a mere search after dry, dull facts ; it is a pursuit of pleasure, of pure, lofty delight ; for the enjoyment is almost boundless to one whose spirit is in harmony with the beneficient Creator, to discover the wisdom and goodness of his wonderful works. And this delight in and search after his works is not, as some appear to think, the romance or enthusiasm of youthful minds. It is true that the stern, practical duties of life, rough contact with the world's rough scenes, very much deaden the finer sensibilities of our being, cramp and confine our study to the works of men, while the purer, nobler works of God, though all around us, are over looked and almost forgotten. But this love of nature should increase with our years ; it should grow and ex 294 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; pand, not wither and die ; and so it does in the noblest and best of minds. It tends to draw us away from the low, corrupting things of the earth, and lifts us up nearer to the great former of all beings, the good Father of all spirits." From being delighted with the observation of nature, she grew pleased with seeing beautiful pictures des- criptive of natural scenery, and soon displayed a taste for poetry and painting. When she was about sixteen, she often selected from her father' s library those works of the Italian poets, most celebrated for picturesque beauty, and would spend the first hours of morning in reading them under the shade of the trees that bordered the river. Here, too, she would often attempt rude sketches of the surrounding scenery. It would be as useless as it is unnecessary for me to give a full account of our conversation ; suffice it to say that we talked over many things, renewed our love and fidelity, agreed upon all points discussed, and enjoyed a delightful hour in all respects. The next day again we rode, and so passed the time until, one morning, with a seared, pale face, Josie came running down to the cabin holding a letter in her hand. I at once conjectured that the missive announced the return of Mr. Seymour. So it proved, as I gathered from the letter while poor Josie lay sobbing in my arms. Nothing, however, remained but to await his advent, and trust to the appeals of his daughter to soften his heart. He came three days afterwards, and within a few hours after his arrival Josie stole to my quarters and communicated what her father had announced as his plans. He had lost all faith in the Confederate authori- ties, despaired of success, and had determined to aban- OR, JOSIE, THE HEROHNTE OF FLORENCE. 295 don the country forever. With that view he signified his intention of selling all his property, and leaving for England on the first blockade runner that should sail from Charleston. There was no other course for us but to wait till Mr, Seymour should become acquainted with my presence, and meet the danger with boldness then, and so I sent Josie back to the house, sorrowing and anxious, but both of us hoping that the future might yet grow brighter. The next day, surely enough, Mr. Seymour proceeded to make the usual inspection of his slave quarters that Southern planters were accustomed to make whenever they returned from a journey, that they might ascertain that all the hands were on the place, and that everything was going right. He passed along among the cabins — I watching proceedings with great curiosity from a side window — and seemed very much satisfied with the con- dition of things, if he could be judged rightly" by his smiling face and contented manner. At last he reached mine, pushed open the door and walked in, while I was sitting in the inner apartment smoking a cigar. To say that he was astounded at the appearance of the interior, with its elegant furniture and appearance of taste and comfort would only partially express the emotions which he showed. At first he gazed around like one petrified, 'Undoubtedly recognizing much of the furniture as having belonged to the mansion, though there he had not missed it. After staring about him in a bewildered way for some minutes, he advanced into the interior room and beheld me, at whose appearance he was still more aghast. For some moments he could only stare at me, without uttering a single word. At last he faintly gasped forth a Question as to who I was. I had risen 296 SOUTHERN PKisoisrs ; upon his entrance, laid aside my cigar, and now frankly and fully told liim who I was, how I had escaped, and how his daughter had given me an asylnm, but I did not then venture to breathe his daughter' s name, except as my benefactress. After recovering from his first stu- por of wonder, Mr. Seymour became violently angry, at least in appearance, demanded how I dare come upon his plantation, declared that his daughter had acted like a fool in having befriended me, and vowed that he would turn me over to the Confederate authorities as soon as he could communicate with them, and then strode indig- nantly out of the cabin without saying another word. Thinking that the plantation was no longer a safe resi- dence for me, I communicated quickly with Bob, obtained a fast horse, and galloped to the residence of one of the members of the Union League, where I was warmly wel- comed, and assured of safety, at least for the present. I had left word with Bob for whose house I had started, so that Josie might see me, and the next morning early my darling presented herself, having ridden a long dis- tance in the early dawn. She told me that her father had returned to the house, and sternly demanded an explanation of my presence, and her part in the transac- tion. Terrified by the harshness of his manner, which was entirely new to her, she had thrown herself into his arms and told him everything, her early acquaintance with me, her love, and declared that if she were sepa- rated from me, her fondest hopes would be crushed for- ever. At first he utterly refused to listen to her entreat- ies, but finally, perceiving from the intensity of her agony that serious consequences were likely to result from continued sternness, he, with reluctance, consented that she should go after me and recall me to the house. '■ n OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORETfCE. 297 This she accordingly did^ and we both hastily returned to the mansion, then, for the first time, I was introduced to Mr. Seymour. At first he upbraided both of us for the concealment, and renewed his positive determination to turn me over to the Confederates. He declared that I was a Union private soldier, without means or position, and that nothing but misery could result from any such union as we proposed. Besides, he argued, that the fact of my being at his house, and still more, my marriage with his daughter, could not fail to become known within a very few days, and both facts would at once be for- warded to the authorities at Richmond, which Avould prove his own utter ruin. At the close of his address, he again announced his unalterable determination that no such marriage should ever take place, and declared that he would certainly give me up if I did not previ- ously make my escape to some member of the Union League, and abstain from any further visits to Josie and his house. At this point Josie, who had hitherto remained un- movable and speechless, her pale, agitated face showing her suffering, sprang forward, and, kneeling at her father' s feet, besought him, with heartbreaking sobs and agonized face, to recall his determination, and at least afford me an asylum in the house, without which I was liable to be retaken at any time, and in such an event she declared she should no longer care to live, as her life could only be one of pain and misery. Already she had undergone too much in her constant anxiety for my fate. She felt certain that further anguish would either dethrone her reason or destroy her life. If her father could not give his consent to our marriage, then let him withhold it, for the present at least, but she adjured him 38 298 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; by the love he bore his motherless daughter not to com- mit me again to the mercies of the Confederate authori- ties, who would surely forfeit my life, or at least consign me indefinitely to some gloomy prison, where I should at best die only a more lingering death. For a few minutes Mr. Seymour w^as deaf even to Josie's prayers, supported, as they were, by forcible representations from me of what my fate would certainly be if I were recaptured, a fate which my past experience of rebel barbarity enabled me fully to realize and to pic- ture to Miss Seymour's father with great force. At length, however, the feelings of the father triumphed over all the views of interest and worldly wisdom. Raising his daughter from her knees he folded her ten- derly in his arms, and soothed the agitated girl with whispered assurances that I should remain as their guest at least, and that as to the other question he would think it over. Josie knew that the victory was gained. Hiding her blushing face upon her father's shoulder, she extended her hand to me as an assurance that we were not to be parted. I clasped it fervently, and with broken utterances poured out my heartfelt thanks to my lovely benefactress and her father, for whom I had conceived a sudden and marked respect. Mr. Seymour was not a man to do things by halves. As the signal of his friendliness, he ordered a servant to bring from the cellar a bottle of old Madeira, and we all quaffed the rare old wine to our future happiness and good fortune. I was allotted a beautiful apartment, and from this time forth became a constant resident of the mansion. OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOEENCE. 299 CHAPTER XXm. MY ILL-FATED MARRIAGE. I am Recaptured on the day of my Wedding. — My Enlistment in the Rebel Service. — I Desert while on Guard Duty dring the night. — I see Josie again. — The Rebel Cavalry in Pursuit. — A Hurried Ride. — I become 111 in the Woods and Seek a Shelter. Oh ! married love ! each heart shall own. Where two congenial souls unite. Thy golden chains inlaid with down. Thy lamp with heavens own splendor bright JLangJiomo. Heretofore I had often been surprised at the quietude which surrounded my newly found home near Florence, though attributing the circumstance mainly to the fact that this post contained but few prisoners, and there was therefore less anxiety felt concerning escapes and less effort made in recaptures. Recently, however, the num- ber of these unfortunates had greatly increased, from the insecurity which encircled those prisoners further north and west, and the post was fast becoming an im- portant one, while a corresponding degree of vigilance began to be manifested throughout the adjoining coun- try. Squads of Rebel Cavalry commenced to patrol the vicinity for a circuit of full twenty miles from Flor- ence, infesting the roads and lanes and "gobbling up" both escaped prisoners and able bodied men, the latter 300 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; of whom, few in number indeed, they forwarded to the armies. Information to this effect was quickly commu- nicated to me through Bob and members of the Loyal League, and I hastened to regard the freindly warnings by remaining in doors with Josie and her father. In this unsettled and dangerous condition of things, both Josie and myself strongly favored our immediate union, as the events of even the next few hours were uncertain, and in the event of any misfortune — which I knew might be attended with death — we both wished to be husband and wife. At last we suggested our fears and desires to Mr. Seymour, and though he at the out- set objected strongly, even fiercely, to an immediate union, he finally — worn out, I suspect, by Josie' s en- dearments and my importunities — gave a reluctant con- sent. The wedding was fixed for Monday in the second week of September, and the ceremony was to be per- formed in the parish church, by the minister of the con- gregation. On the Sunday previous my love and my- self rode out alone, and while exchanging those shy confidences which we hoped and supposed were the last of our separated lives, we unfortunately were passed by a Rebel cavalry squad, whom we saw too late to avoid and who cast very suspicious and alarming glances towards myself, though taking no action against my liberty. No sooner were they out of sight than I warned Josie of impending danger, as I feared, and w^e put spurs to our horses and rode fiercely home, astounding Mr, Seymour by our sudden and tumultuous return, but receiving his decided approval of our course as soon as he was made acquainted with the circumstances. OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREJSTCE. 301 The wedding, however, was fixed for the next day, and it was not deemed advisable to postpone it. Tlie morning was a glorious one, the sun shining out bril- liantly, and all nature seeming to promise hapiness and prosperity to our married life. We, with my darling's father, repaired to the little church about ten in the morning, and found the worthy clergyman in waiting. My bride was doubly beautiful, simply but richly and tastefully dressed and her fair face radiant with plea- sure and love. Alas ! how well too, this day do I remem- ber its beauty, its innocence, its truthfulness, its blushing happiness ! All so soon to be effaced in overwhelming misery ! The clergyman commenced the marriage ceremony, we bowed before him reverently, lovingly, he concluded the ordinance, and pronounced us man and wife, when a crash burst upon my startled ears, the doors and win- dows were forced open, a crowd of Rebel soldiery rush- ed in and overflowed the building ! Poor Josie sunk to my feet with one piteous, swooning cry, [and I blessed God that she had fainted]. The brutal soldiers siezed me, and, notwithstanding the most desperate resistance an unarmed man could offer, they dragged me from the church and from Josie, my only hope, and upon whose welfare and happiness my very life depended. How different were my thoughts now from those I had in- dulged a few minutes before. Then expectation, hope, delight, danced before me ; now melancholy and disap- pointment chilled the ardor of my soul, and discolored my future prospects. For a moment my brain reeled under its affliction, and I was forced to give way to the pangs of fury and despair, while I exclaimed — 302 SOUTHEKN PEISOICS ; " Rage on, ye winds ; burst clouds, and waters roar ; You bear a just resemblance of my fortune, And suit the gloomy habit of my soul." My captors liurried me along the road towards Flor- ence, stopping neither to regard my remonstrances, my outcries, my lamentations or my threats. Of the piti- able scene which we left behind us at the church I have only a conception, one of agony which I have borne to the present day. Of the misery of my darling when she woke from that death-like swoon, and found her lover, her husband, for whom she had dared so much, whom I believe she loved better than her own life, torn from her side just as the marriage vows had been pro- nounced, her anguish is something I dare not look back upon. When first taken I supposed my captors knew me to be an escaped Union prisoner, and my mind whirled with devices for averting suspicion from Mr. Seymour and his daughter; but the fact that the soldiers had made no move to arrest that gentleman, and their con- versation among themselves, after my capture, convinced me that they had simply determined to impress me as an able-bodied man, and forward me on to the army. I was taken to Florence and turned over to the com- mander, who was a gentleman of education and refine- ment, and who, I must confess, treated the prisoners under his charge with all the consideration which, under the circumstances, he could display. I told him part of my sad fate, declaring that my home was at Macon, Ga., and that, having been engaged tp Miss Seymour for a considerable period, I had but two weeks ago come to her home with the view of marrying her, and how the ceremony had been performed on the very hour when T OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORENCE. 303 was dragged from my bride by his brutal soldiers. The commander pitied my hard fate, but told me that accord- ing to an order issued from the Confederate War Department, he was instructed to conscript all able-bod- ied men on whom he could lay hands ; that, however, as my case seemed a special one, he would, if possible, retain me at Florence to do duty there. Meanwhile, I was placed in charge of Captain Cook. The next day, however, the commander informed me that it would be impossible for me to remain at the post for more than three or four days, I was sworn into the Confederate service, which I entered to save Mr. Sey- mour and Josie from risk — but vowed I would never fire a gun against my own flag — and, probably to give me an idea of soldiering, I was placed on duty to guard some railroad iron. I deserted that night, hastened to Mr. Seymour's house, alarmed him by rousing him from his sleep at a most unseasonable hour in the morning and requested him to call Josie at once, as I knew if 1 were recaptured I should be shot as a deserter, and that, therefore, time was precious. Josie was soon on the spot, and throwing her loving arms around my neck, she kissed me, and bid me welcome. I had but a moment to embrace her, and assure her of the absolute necessity that I should be gone if I would save my life. I tore myself from her entwining arms, from her entreaties and prayers, rushed out of the house, sprang upon a swift horse that Bob had by this time provided, and fled as the clatter of a troop of cavalry, approaching the house in pursuit, be- came plainly audible. I rode till dark, first striking into a road little used, and avoiding all highways. There seemed to be little or no pursuit ; the steed I rode 304 SOITTHEEN PEISONS ; flew like a whirlwind away from tlie jaded horses of the eavalrymen. About eight o'clock in the evening, finding the noble animal completely worn out by the furious pace at which he had been driven, I abandoned him, having determined, at all events, to take to the woods again, where I thought I might the more safely trust myself among their deep recesses. That night I slept in the trunk of a great hollow tree, and woke in the morning with terrible pains in my limbs, and an indescribable weakness and illness pervading my whole body. I felt certain that I was about to undergo a severe illness, and that I must have shelter and attendance at all hazards. The only course was to push for the road, and, after walking a mile or so, I encountered on the roadside a small log house, which at least promised a covering and human aid. OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OJT FLOBENCE. 305 CHAPTER XXIV. A MOURNFUL INCIDENT. I Seek Refuge. — The Old Lady's Death. — I Prosecute my Journey, but am again Recaptured. O Death ! the poor man's dearest friend, The kindest and the best ! Welcome the hour my aged limbs Are laid with thee at rest. Bwm*. I approached the log hut and knocked for admittance. The door was ox)ened by an elderly lady, who asked me my business. I answered that I was a Confederate sol dier (I still had on my Confederate uniform in which the Rebels had decked me when they compelled me to enlist), and was on my way home upon a furlough ; that I had been taken ill on my journey, and could go no fur- ther until I should obtain rest and shelter for at least a day or two. The lady, who was of kindly appearance, and seemed of a benevolent disposition, bade me wel- come, invited me in, and provided me with nourishing food during the day, and at night conducted me to a loft, gained by a ladder, in which she said I could sleep. It was a plain room, with little furniture, but dry and warm, and I felt sure within it of passing a comfortable night. The old lady seemed herself very feeble, and, after ascending to my sleeping apartment at evening, I 39 306 SOFTHOEEN PEISOK8 ' noticed through the great cracks of the floor that she moved about very slowly, and apparently with much difficulty, while I often heard her cough as if in pain. There was a little girl in the hut, who attended the old lady, and, after clearing away the evening meal, I heard the child ask her why she was so sad. For a time her companion seemed to make no answer save an occasional heavy sigh, but at last she seemed to murmur about days long gone by, and finally narrated to the child the following story : "The fire was burning brightly in the huge fire-place ; great logs were piled on each other that sent out a cheer- ful, crackling sound that seemed to vie with the merry hum of the tea-kettle. The old Maltese cat purred in the chimney-corner, while every nook in that old-fash- ioned, rag-carpeted room was lit up with that rich, mellow light that comes only from a brightly-burning, open fire. "An old lady sat in a great arm-chair, gazing intently into the fire. Her worn and wrinkled hands were clasped, and lay idle in her lap ; a deep-settled expres- sion of melancholy was on her brow ; and as I tripped to and fro, preparing our evening meal, I could not help feeling that her mind was revolving on some sorrows of long ago. I had not often seen her thus — indeed, she was ever busy and cheerful ; but now a shadow was on her brow, and I felt that I wished to know what so depressed a heart always so warm and genial. She was my grandmother. "My mother died when I was born ; but I had never felt a parent's loss, for she had been all to me ; had smoothed the rough places, and my childhood hours had been happy, indeed. It is true I often thought that there was some mystery connected with my mother's OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOEENCE. 307 fate ; but feeling it to be a painful subject to her I loved so well, seldom mentioned it ; but of late I had become more anxious than ever ; and to-night the spell was on me to learn the history of mj mother' s parents, whom I had heard spoken of in terms of highest praise. I knew she was beautiful, for I had often gazed on her portrait, which hung in the old-fashioned parlor, which was sel- dom opened except on great occasions ; it seemed as if that portrait made it sacred. "While busy thinking how I should broach the sub- ject to her, I had completed my work. The little round table was drawn out before the fire, and covered with its snowy cloth ; a plate of golden butter and some smoking biscuit, with some of our own preserves, which rivaled the jellies of the East, completed our evening meal, not forgetting the ' cup which cheers, but not inebriates.' All being ready, I went up to my grandmother's chair, and, pressing a kiss on her care-worn brow, asked her if she was not ready for tea. She gave me a look half-sad, half vacant ; slowly arose from her chair, and, taking her accustomed seat at the table, she offered up her sim- ple tribute of thanks, and asked for continued blessings. " I thought her voice faltered, and her lips trembled with emotion ; a tear trembled on either lid, and her cheeks were pale with some hidden grief. Our meal was finished, and she silently resumed her seat — her face still wearing that same sad look, as if some terrible grief was eating away the vitals of her heart. I quietly and quickly put aside our tea things, and arranged the room, intending to put an end to the painful scene. I drew a little stool from the corner up to her leet; I laid my head in her lap — I had often done this years ago, but not of late. Being of industrious habits, we spent little 308 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; time in dreamland. Her hand smoothed my curly hair ; and, as she did so, I heard a long-drawn sigh, as if a heavy load pressed down her life and soul. I gazed into her face with a yearning, wistful look, and said : " 'What is it, grandma, dear'^ Tell me, please, and let me share your grief, whatever it may be V " 'I will, my child; and though it may cause you much sorrow, and many bitter tears, yet it is high time that you knew all ; and I wish to tell you it myself ere I go to join them in that bright, holy land. I have lived on for your sake, and have often felt that if it were not for you I could not have dragged through these long, dreary years ; but oh ! my child, you have been such a source of comfort — such a joy to your old grandmother, that I have buried the sorrows which crushed and made me old before my time. " ' Thankful that God had not utterly deprived me of all that makes life desirable — something to love, to hope for, to cling to — and I have had all this in you. But to- night I have been sorely tried ; it has cost me many bit- ter tears to bring myself to this point, to voluntarily open the wounds afresh that time has partially healed. Oh ! child, nothing could induce me to live over again those scenes of folly, and the retribution which followed, but that you may steer clear of the shoals and quicksands which have embittered my whole life, I will go through the sad recital. " ' I feel that my days are few, at most ; and to-night, if my child will listen, I will tell her a story of her grandmother. ' The eager look and firm pressure of her ]iand in mine, told how grateful I should feel for what I had been so long thirsting to know. And thus she began : OR, .TOSIE, THE HEROITSTE OF FLORENCE. 309 ' ' Years ago, I was young and beautiful. No one knew the fact better than I, who was the youngest of a large family, and the pride, the hope, the joy of all. Merry and light-hearted, I felt that I ought to be praised and petted, and no higher aim had I at the early age of sixteen. I went into society, and received the attention of gentlemen. T had lost my mother when quite youi^g, and none of my sisters presumed to dictate to me. I was fond of admiration, and drew on the admiring crowd by coquettish ways and means, which soon made me the reigning belle of the little town of R . " At last there came among us Ernest Lyle, with high, pale brow and noble mien. He was quiet, gentlemanly and dignified ; every motion bespoke a gentleman of edu- cation and refinement ; but, alas ! it was all he had. Self-made, self-taught, he had journeyed life's pathway. All loved and respected him but the mercenary few who envied him of what they had no hopes of obtaining themselves. This select few were the aristocracy of R ; and well was I joked and laughed at, when evening after evening found him my escort home from our usual festivities. My penniless beau was the theme of all. At last, as much as I loved him, for my secret soul acknowledged it as such, I could not brave the jeers of them all. When I could steal away and meet Ernest on some mossy bank, beneath some sheltering oak, I was happy that no one could tease me of it. " Thus days, weeks and months passed. We had our stolen interviews, and they were hours such as angels know in paradise. If Ernest had been less noble, and had proposed to elope, I should have gone. He seemed to understand my position in a degree, but, nevertheless, no thought but that I would remain true until such a 310 80UTHEKN PEISONS ; time as he could provide a home suitable for the daugh- ter of Judge B , entered his brain. In society, in the presence of others, he shared alike my smiles and winning ways ; but I knew when and where to find my Ernest ; when his sensitive heart was wrung by my cold- ness or neglect, and he would steal away by himself, I would find him, and fling my arms about his neck, and whisper: 'Dear Ernest.' Oh, that magic word would bring back the smile, though often saddened by past recollections, and he would press a kiss of such utter thankfulness on my brow — it burns there to-night. I have often thought that those burning lips did sear my brow. I have felt it often, though no marks are there. "Time passed on and wrought no change, save Ernest grew pale and thoughtful, a hectic flush was on his cheek, and a hollow cough smote the ear with painful harshness. Oh, had I known that he — so good, so true, so noble — was to fade so soon, I would have braved the world's scorn or censure, and have made the hours bright and happy as his life slowly ebbed, but I knew not the nature of the disease that was eating his life away. He seldom went into society ; it was painful to him to see the cold, formal way in which I treated him, — I, who, with blue sky and twinkling stars above me, would pillow my head in his bosom, and listen to his dreams of the future, of the fond hopes and aspira- tions, which inspired him on to action. It w^as the love of me, and the hope that one day I should brighten his fireside, that sustained him through those days of toil and study. This could not always last, and my flirting propensities were sorely tried. " At this time there came to dwell in the Manor-house a ricli and influential gentleman. He had traveled over OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 311 the European continent, and wonderful was his stock of information. Then I was joked and rallied at. ' Try, my little beauty, and see if you can't captivate this lord, but mind and don't lose your own heart in the attempt,' was my father' s ejaculation, as he overheard us discuss- ing his fine talents and superior merits. 'Twould be no bad thing to reign mistress over a house like that. A thought of Ernest and a pang shot through my heart. I could not as yet offer up a love so truly noble and self- sacrificing as his, to gain even the uppermost niche in the temple of fame ; but would it not be a famous thing to be the bride of the millionaire Count ? There was to be a grand party given in his lordship's honor. I forgot to meet my engagement that evening, so anxious was I to produce the impression I felt sure of producing on the mind of the newly arrived count. Foolish and unsophistica,ted as I was, I dreamed that he would bow before my shrine as all had done before. My dress was pure white, with a band of pearls gleam- ing amid my jetty locks. A single cluster of moss-buds was in mj^ hand, and as my sisters chided on my simple style I gaily said, "Beauty unadorned, is adorned the most. " You shall not say 'twas dress or ornament that won him, but my own peerless self." 'Humph!' exclaimed my father, coming in time to hear mj^ remarks, 'mighty self-complacent, and no little self-conceit ; but, in fact I never saw you look better. It is late, however, and we must be off.' We were driven quickly to Mrs. Sherwood's, the leader of fashions and dress in our little town. Her rooms were brilliantly lighted, and filled with merry girls and smiling beaux. My heart beat high. I wished to know if Ernest was there, and selfish- ly glad was I, when, after being announced, my eye 312 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; sought every nook and corner, and felt not his clear piercing eye. I entered readily into all the sports and fun, which wero so truly my characteristic. "You seem like yourself to-night," whispered Mrs. Sherwood ; I see the Count's eyes upon you ; he is evi- dently interested, but he shall ask for an introduction, or he will not get one." I thought not of my poor, lone Ernest, whose heart had not a throb but for me ; or, if I did, I only merged myself deeper in the gay, excited throng, to drown all thoughts of that nature. I muttered to myself, "This may be my last chance ; I will improve it," and so I did. At last I saw the hero of the hour approaching, in com- pany with our hostess. I felt that now my hour had come. I would play a desperate game, and it should be a short one. The introduction given, the count beg- ged my hand for the next dance. I said I should be most happy, but was already engaged. This was false, for when he glanced another way I motioned to a friend of mine to come beside me ; he did so, and as the band struck up a merry tune, I gave the hint, and away' we went in the giddy waltz. He was a capital dancer, so was I, and you may be sure I danced my best, for I felt the eyes of the Count Vesco upon me. As I left the floor he came up quickly, and engaged my hand in the next set. It was freely granted. He had not danced, and I should be his first partner. This was only a small reward for all I had risked, but it was prophetic of something more. Thus matters progressed, and before the hour arrived for our departure he had breathed words steeped in flattery in my ears. He said he had visited the sunny skies of Italy and the snow-clad hills OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE 313 of Russia, but never "before had it been his glad chance to see eyes so black and locks so jetty as mine. "I am growing old," he said "and tired of this rambling mode of life ; I have sought in vain for years for some being who could come up to my standard and fill the void, and to-night I have found one. " His voice faltered, and his hand clasped mine more firmly as he continued. " It is not fitting for me to say more now, but tell me, may I love you ? May I come and see you, and ask a parent' s permission to woo and win so peerless a flower?" We stood within a recess, and his voice was quite audible. No one was near, and I felt safe. Visions of what would they say — a conquest so soon — that magni- ficent estate — that fine equipage — the words of my father — all filled my giddy brain. I did not stop to think that love, pure afnd truthful, is shrinking and reserved ; that it acts, not talks. He plead on in the same wild strain, and at last, stooping down, pressed a kiss on my lips and asked, "Tell me. Oh! tell me, if I may have the right to love you V I answered yes ; told him yes, when my love was plighted to another; told him yes, when Ernest was mine just as much as if our nuptials had been cele- brated, and had the sanction of the universe. Oh, would to heaven that my tongue had hung palsied in my mouth — that it had refused to utter that wretched lie. My father broke up our interview by coming in haste and stating that the carriage was waiting and my sisters ready. Count Vesco off"ered me his arm, and conducted me to the dressing-room. I had thrown my mantle about me, and was in search 40 314 SOUTHER?? PRiso:^s ; of my veil, which being long and heavy I usually wrapped in turban style about m}^ head. Seeing it on the threshold of the door leading out on the balcon}^, and stooping to pick it up, I heard a voice so sepulchral and unearthly, that it struck terror to my very soul. I could not resist — I had not the power — as a hand, cold, and dewy as the grave, dragged me out on the balcony. It was Ernest. He had been in the shade, but now, as the light of the rising moon fell on his brow, a cold chill ran through me. Oh, I shall never, never forget that face, so white, so stern, so terrible ! I have seen it in the dark watches of the night — I have seen it when standing loy the bed- side of some departed soul. I have seen it to-night, and strange as it may seem, the old look had changed — it had the same happy smile with which he used to wel- come me when we met on the brink of some mossy stream, to while away an hour in happy thought and pleasant converse. I shall never, while the heart pulsates or reason sits upon its throne, forget that voice as it whispered, ' ' The acts of to-night afford a specimen of what j^ou are ! Oh, how basely have I been deceived ! Can it indeed be true that you, whom I once deemed so pure, so true, can be so false ? Oh, for the love of God and my soul, tell me, tell me truly, as you hope to be forgiven, if my sense has played me false. Tell me that all which I have seen to-night is unreal, that you are mine, and no power on earth, nor above, nor beneath, shall break the tie that binds us." Thinking of my father and the Count, and fearing that they would learn all and my treachery be discov- OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 315 ered, I pulled away my hand, and murmured, "-Let me go." " Oh, Eveline ! is it true that you love me no longer?" he murmured as he gazed yi my face with such a plead- ing wistful look, that the fiends incarnate must have possessed me to utter the fatal word which crushed the life out of Ernest hyle. Giving him one look, as if much vexed — for indeed I was — I said, "Let me go. It is true." A groan burst from his pallid lips : its echo rung out on the midnight air. I have heard it since ; yes, I have heard it to-night. Returning, I found my father and the Count very impatient at my delay. In vain my sisters rallied me on my success — in vain my father commanded — I knew that Ernest, with his great love, would never survive the shock. His system, shattered as it was, would not rally beneath the blow my hand had struck. I never closed my eyes to sleep that night, but walked my room in agony. The spirit of my dead mother was hovering about to keep her child from fur- ther wrong ; but I heeded not the ministering angel. Weighing the love I had for Ernest L3de and my pride and ambition, I found I was not strong enough to brave the displeasure of my friends and the anger of my father, and lose the wealth and splendor of the Count's castle. My heart bade me seek Ernest and retract the cruel words I had spoken, but I hushed its pleadings as best I could, and smothered the little good in me. Next day the Count called on me to see if I would ride with him. It was something to ride after those horses, and be admired and envied by all the village girls. At tea my father remarked, in a casual way, 316 SOUTHERN PISONS ; "They say Ernest Lyle is very sick — that he doesn't recognize any one ; and the most remarkable thing is, he calls for our Eva all the time. I hope you never gave him any encouragement, Sis, for he is too good to be trifled with. Although I would never consent to an alliance with the house of Lyle, yet it would grieve me sorely to have my Eva encourage any one whom she knew her father would be displeased with ; but after last night and to-day's affair I will dismiss my fears, and no longer borrow trouble on that score." Earnest sick ! Oh heaven, delirious ! and I thought he would reveal all. But I need not have worried my- self. ■ Even then the life had gone out of that broken hearted man, and my secret was safe. They told me he was dead, and not a muscle stirred ; not a quiver was on my lip, but a chill crept over my heart and froze the life-current. I felt then, and I feel now, that I was his murderer. They buried him on the hill-side, beneath the old oak that used to be our try sting place. 'Twas his last request, and 'twas granted. The sod was fresh and the earth was new. The autumn leaves were falling, and I could not help the wish to see a grave my hands had dug. In the grey cold light of a harvest moon I sought the spot— that same icy chill about my heart, and a leaden weight of guilt, sorrow and remorse. The stars shone out one by one in the blue sky above ; and if Ernest Lyle saw from the celestial realms, his wrongs were and then, in a measure atoned for. Flinging my- self on the cold damp ground that covered the last of him, so good, so gifted, the icicles that hung about my heart melted, and streams like the heated lava of some burning volcano run down my cheeks. I called in vain OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 317 for the well-remembered voice ; tlie low moaninsf of the wind in the tree-tops was my only reply ; but that night, on his grave, I determined to go to America, then wild and unsettled, and in a new land, far away from other scenes, live a life of usefulness, and, in some degree, atone for the wrong I had done. I left a note, telling my father of my course, begging him never to seek me. I gave him the full details of my intimacy and en- gagement with Ernest, and the fatal result. To each of my sisters I left a note, thanking them for all they had done for me, and hoping they would feel kindly towards their erring sister. Oh, those days of storms and sick ness were little heeded by me. A great grief was at my heart, and when the ship was tossed to and fro, and the white foam and sheeted spray lay beneath, and the heavens dark and murky above ; when naught but prayers and supplications for our own safety reached the ear, I calmly viewed it all. It seemed as if my heart had turned to stone, and hung a leaden weight within me. But at last our good ship arrived in the snug harbor of Boston, and there fresh trials awaited me. My child, it would be useless to narrate all that passed during those wretched j^ears of trial and privation. One night will do. I remember it was late in the fall, and a regu- lar New England autumn eve it was. I had gone out, not to enjoy its beauty, but to think over the past. 'Twas seldom I allowed myself this indulgence, but that night my soul craved to commune with itself I had found a little knoll where the grass seemed the freshest, and where the last beams of the sun had ling- gered. This spot had often reminded me of the one far, far away, where slept my Ernest Lyle, and I held it sacred for the resemblance. 318 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; Sitting there, lost in deep thought, while the red dry- leaves fell fast about me, I exclaimed in the sorrow of my heart. " Lie there and turn to dust, As all life's hopes and wishes must." "Don't say that, Eva Barton. I cannot bear to hear it. Ever since I saw your pale face and sad eyes, 1 felt my heart go out to you. In vain have I tried to crush out the love I felt growing stronger and stronger, as each day I watched your patient toil and constant self- denial. Oh, I have so wanted to relieve you of burdens I knew you were not fitted to bear, but you have always repelled me, and made me feel that there was a barrier between us that could never be surmounted. But, E^a, oh ! let me call you this to-night ; I can bear any- thing but this suspense. I love you and cannot help it ; God knows how I have struggled to overcome it, but it is like fire — consuming and destroying me. Tell me, Eva, wily you treat me so coldly. Tell -me why you shat us all out from your confidence, and feed on some- thing which is killing you. Eva, am I not worthy? Have T ever proved myself ought but true to all? I love you, and no matter what has been, or what is to be, my heart is yours." 1 gazed on the speaker in astonishment. I could not speak, for m}^ tongue clove to the roof of my mouth, and I was speechless. It was the son of my employer, and one whom I had always respected among all the young men in that thinly -settled neighborhood. None held the position of Richard Wilde. He had been kind, but he was so to all, and I never thought of love. "Have I offended you so much that yon will not dX)eak to me ?" he asked, in a sad voice. OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 319 I gave Mm my hand, and felt the burning kisses that was lavished on it. I felt a sensation as of ice breaking Tip from my heart, and tears hot and scalding rained down my cheeks — tears such as I had not shed since that night at the grave of Ernest Lyle. 'Twas some- thing to feel that strong arm about me after long years of solitude and loneliness , life had been bereft of all its hopes, and I felt that if I breathed and moved yet I was dead to all earthly objects. I was interested in no one, and little dreamed that any one was interested in me. That night I told my great sorroAv and self exile, and when I had finished I asked him if a broken, crushed heart, was fit mate for such love as his. He replied, "Thank Grod that you are mine, and time will accomplish all things." I felt stronger that night, and was glad to have some- thing to live for. Richard Wilde and I were married, and Heaven is my witness that evei;v- duty was dis- charged faithfully. He never murmured that my heart was buried beneath the sunny skies of Italy, or that his was not the first claim. He was too noble, too good for that, and now he is reaping his reward. We were blessed with children, but God saw fit to take them from us, and we bowed in submission to His will. One little flower was left to blossom here only to be shook and tossed till its leaves were withered, and its petals strewn to the wind. This was not all. He was taken when I thought to lean on him in tlie decline of life. Your father, child, is in a foreign clime ; he won a love that angels might have envied, and cast it from him. We saw the roses fade from her cheeks, and the lustre from her eye as the knowledge of her desertion dawned upon her. Business was his plea, and when O'^U SOUTHERN PRISONS", he first went away we believed him. At first letters came with glowing accounts of his success, and they breathed of love and constancy to his wife and our child. They grew shorter, and at last ceased altogether. All those weeks of painful suspense I will pass over. I forgive him the great wrong he has done us all, and you must. I have kept this from you till you was old enough to bear the double orphanage. I have suffered much ; I have borne the decree of heaven, and believe my sins are forgiven, and the past atoned. "I know there is rest for me there, and I shall be at peace." These last words were breathed in a whisper, and I waited for her to speak again. The fire burned low, and the candle had long since died out. The solemn stillness of the midnight hour, together with her history, awed my soul. I waited in vain for the soft tones of her silvery voice, but they came not. I, tried to rise but I felt a painful oppression. Summoning all my resolution, I rose and vigorously stirred the fire : a bright blaze burst from the smouldering brands ; it filled the room with its light, and rested on her I loved so well. I thought she had fallen asleep. Her hands lay folded in her lap, and her head rested on the back of her chair ; I went up to awake her, my heart burst- ing with the thought of all she had borne and suffered — when, O, horror-stricken ! I let fall the hand I had clasped in mine, for it was cold — the life had departed from out of that feeble tenement of clay, and she was with the loved, the lost ! " The old lady had spoken feebly and hesitatingly du i-ing the entire narrative, but I was ^lot prepared m a OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 321 moment or two after its close to hear the child exclaim "My God ! she's dead ! " I hastened below, and found the little one weeping bitter tears over the inanimate form of her only protector. I soothed her as well as I could, and, on questioning her, found that her only neighbors were some ladies living a quarter of a mile distant. All the men had been impressed into the Rebel army, and there was hardly one to be found in the sec- tion. The position was an exceedingly embarrassing one for me, an escaped prisoner, a deserter from the Confederate service, in double peril, to be compelled to remain in this dangerous neighborhood and bury the old lady. But I felt that her kindness to me had de- served all kindness at my hands, and procuring some boards I constructed a rude coffin, and early next morn- ing we, with a few ladies in the neighborhood — all of whom supposed me to be a Confederate soldier, — laid the poor old lady in her grave. " Our lives are rivers gliding free To that unfatbom'd, boundless sea, The silent grave I Thither all earthly pomp and boast Roll, to be swallow'd up and lost In one dark wave." At once, upon the conclusion of the funeral, and after commending the child to the care of the ladies, wlu promised to watch over her, I hastened on my journey, feeling still very weak, as my rest at the house had been very much broken, and I had derived comparatively little benefit from tarrying. Yet I contrived to travel all day, and at night slept soundly upon a pile of brush, under the cover of a few boughs of trees constructed for a shelter. It rained, however, during the night and I 41 322 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; awoke drenched to the skin, stiff in my limbs, and hard- ly able to walk. Fortunately, after proceeding a few miles, I encountered a farm house of good appearance, and in my desperate plight I determined to risk all chances and seek rest and assistance at all hazards. On applying for admission, the door was opened by a young lady some nineteen years of age, whom I assured I was a Confederate officer, now on my way to my regiment in the Western army, having been wounded in the desper ate fighting before Atlanta, and that having fallen sick on the road, I sorely needed shelter and aid. She called me in, and while I warmed my chilled body at the cheer- ful log fire, slie consulted her mother. The latter most cordially proffered all the house could afford while I needed it, and, to my joy, I was authorized to take up my abode there for a time. I remained at this point, which I found was about forty miles from Florence, for several days, until I had comparatively recovered my strength, and then, after thanking the charming Miss Roberts and her hospitable mother for their great kind- ness, I struck out again. Not wishing to create any suspicion in the mind of Miss Roberts or her mother, who watched me from a side window as I left the house, I took the main road, intending to immerge into the woods just as soon as I could reach a point beyond their view. With my usual ill-luck, however, I encountered a body of the infernal Rebel cavalry before getting off the road. I dashed into the underbrush, but their pursuit was swift and skilful, and once more I found myself a prisoner, with the information that I should be taken back to Florence. I represented that I was a Confeder- ate officer, and strove hard to gain my release, but my captors assured me that they had a stern duty to per- ;1 .- ^v?lO/;^\2^ OR, JOSIE, THE HEROITfE OF FLOEENCE. 3?3 form, and must carry me to Florence, where my case could be investigated. I submitted, and complimented them upon the faithfulness they displayed to the cause, which compliment did not go unnoticed. That night we encamped in a patch of woods by the roadside, where we built a roaring fire, and my companions cooked theii rations, of which I obtained a respectable portion. Du- ring the night, however, I slept but little, but pondered over all the possibilities of escape. I could see no chance save by knocking down the single guard who was watch- ing me. At first he slowly paced round the circle of sleepers, humming fragments of songs, and muttering to himself, but at last wearied by his vigil, and supposing me to be sleeping as soundly as the others, he sat down upon the ground near to the fire, and after a little dozed ofi" into sleep. When I was satisfied that he was beyond the observation of things surrounding him, I quietly arose, seized a heavy stick of wood which lay on one side, and had been gathered for fire- wood, and struck him heavily on the head. I then rushed into the woods, making, however, as little noise as possible, and hurried forward some three or four miles. There seemed to be no pursuit, the sentinel probably having been stunned by the force of the blow. For a little time I walked on slowly, feeling quite confident that I had got away unperceived, but a little further progress revealed the alarming sounds of dogs barking behind me. I then supposed that the striking down of the guard had been quickly discovered, and abandoned all hope of escape at present. The hounds quickly drew near, and drove me up a tree, while they set themselves down at the base of it. A Rebel soldier on horseback rode up and demanded to know how I had got out of the stockade. 324 SOTTTHEEN PEISOKS ; at tlie same time ordering me to come down ont of the tree. I saw at once that there was some mistake, and conjectured that other prisoners had probably recently escaped from the stockade, and that the hounds, in pur- suing them, had crossed my track and followed it. This proved to be correct. I, seeing that I would probably be so fortunate as to be taken as an escaped prisoner, and not as a Confederate deserter, came down, but refused to tell my captor anything concerning the mode of the supposed escaj)e. I was accordingly stirred up with the scabbard of my captor, but, proving obstinate, was ta- ken away to Florence. OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 325 CHAPTER XXV. ONCE MORE FREE. I am Brutally Treated on my Return to Florence. — Condition of the Prison. — Not a Friend Left. — I Escape to the Loyal League. Oh 1 give me liberty ! For were ev'n paradise my prison, Still I should long to leap the crystal walls. Dryden. I returned to Florence September 23d, and was interrogated by the commanding officer as to how I managed to escape, but to all such questions I refused to answer, and was at last sent to the guard house, while the guard was given strict orders what course to pursue in case I attempted to escape. Next morning I was taken to headquarters again, and the commanding officer finding me still obdurate, ordered me to be tied up by the thumbs. The guard took me to the front of the main gate, where was a large frame erected similar to that for a large swing. I was placed upon a small stool under the crossbeam, my thumbs were tied up by two small ropes depending from it, the stool was then knocked from under me, and I was swung off into the air. There I was left swinging for nearly half-an-hour, (it seemed to me a dozen) enduring indescribable an- guish, when the prisoners who had assembled near the main gate — which was always left standing open during 326 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; the day, but was very strongly guarded — maddened by this horrible spectacle, and evincing a disposition to break out into open mutiny at all hazards, induced the commanding officer to order me to be taken down. I had lost all feeling, was almost senseles, and it was only with the greatest care from the Rebel surgeon that my life was saved. For two days thereafter I was kept in the guard house and then sent into camp. It was a beautiful day ; I remember it well ; and as the rays of a glorious sun poured their genial warmth and life into the houses and cabins of the dwellers in that favored land, lighting up their hearts, the same sun looked down upon a stockade of unhewn logs sur- rounding an area, within whose limits, crouched, or crept, or staggered, about twelve thousand living men, prisoners of war. Here the old scenes of Belle Isle and Andersonville were reinacted, starvation, sickness, dis- ease and suffering upon every side. Sad and hopeless of the future, men died like victims stricken with the plague. I first looked around the camp to see if I could find a friend, or any ono whom I knew, or even some of the old prisoners whose faces at one time were so familiar to my gaze, but sad to say not one could I see. They had gone to their last homes ; weary of life and suffering they nobly died for their country. " Give me the death of those Who for their country die ; And Oh I be mine like their repose, When cold and low they lie ; Their loveliest mother earth Enshrines the fallen brave, In her sweet lap who gave them birth, They find their tranquil grave." OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 327 In this collection of men from all parts of the world, every phase of human character was represented. The stronger preyed upon the weaker, and even the sick, who were unable to defend themselves, were robbed of their scanty supplies of food and clothing. Dark sto- nes were afloat of men, both sick and well, who were murdered at night, strangled to death by their com- lades for scant supplies of money and clothing. I heard a sick and wounded prisoner accuse his nurse — a fellow prisoner of our arm\- — of having stealthily, during his sleep, inoculated his wounded arm with gangrene, that he might destroy his life and fall heir to his clothing. The action of the sun upon the putrefying mass ol excrement throughout the camp excited most rapid fer- mentation, and developed a most horrible stench. A vast majority of the prisoners were so reduced by con- finement, want of exercise, improper diet, and by scur- vy, diarrhoea and dysentery, that they were unable to evacuate their bowels within the stream or along its banks, and the excrement was deposited at the very doors of their underground huts ; in fact, a majority of the prisoners appeared to lose all repulsion to filth, and both sick and well disregarded all the laws of hygiene and personal cleanliness ; the rains of the autumn season, together with the constant tread of so many men, con- verted the interior at times into one vast bed of muddy slush nearly a foot deep — an aggregation of semi-liquid filth, through which the miserable prisoners unceasingly trampled in their unvarying round of pointless exist- ence. Then for some days the hot sun would pour down upon this quagmire, feculent with putrefaction, and draw from its depths vapors saturated with the 328 SOTJTHERIS- PRISONS ; fetid stench that it exhaled, and which corrupted the air tliey had to inhale. As the prisoners increased in camp, so did their sufferings. With their faces black with smoke and dirt, their clothes in tatters, and im- pregnated with vermin, shoeless and hatless, now up to their knees in mud, then breathing the pestilential atmosphere which a September sun had evoked, the wonder is that human nature did not succumb more rapidly and in greater numbers than the irresponsible death registers indicated. As time rolled on, things grew worse and worse, until it would have seemed to a close observer almost impossible for any one to escape death, or starvation to such a degree that recovery would be out of the question, even if they were released immediately. During all this time our rations grew smaller, indeed to such a morsel that it was simply ridiculous to serve it out to us at all. Meanwhile my comrade died with starvation, and in order to secure a sufficient amount of food for myself to sustain life, I dug a hole in our underground hut and buried him ; I then told the sergeant of his squad that he was sick and could not possibly attend roll call, and upon these representations I succeeded in drawing his rations for several weeks, when the deceit was finally discovered. For this slight transaction, or in other words, violation of the law of the camp, I received nine lashes at the whipping post. I endured my punishment with much patience, but when I reflected for a moment upon this outrage against nature and humanity, upon this bar- barous practice of whipping one almost to death- in a civilized country, and in the nineteenth century, I felt that I could have stood upon that same post, and called upon the Almighty, powerful and supreme as He is, to OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOEENOIS. 35?9 open tbe earth, and let hell swallow every Rebel in the Confederacy. Indeed it was some weeks before I could recover from this horrible and unchristianlike punish- ment. It was now over a month since I had left Josie at her lather's house and had been captured, during which time I could hear nothing of her. I watched every day at the open gate of my dismal and dreary prison in hopes of at least once more gazing upon her beautiful countenance ; but no, she did not come. At last, on a dark night in October, I determined to make another venture for liberty, and about midnight as near as I could judge, I emerged from my hole in the ground which I made my home, and securing a small plank about six feet long, I cautiously approached the dead line on the west side of the camp. I had nearly leached it when I saw the two sentries approaching on the top of the stockade. I threw myself upon the ground, and quietly waited until they met, exchanged salutes, and turning back, paced away. Then I cau- tiously approached the wall, placed my plank against it, carefully mounted the stockade and let myself down in safety upon the other side. The escape was quickly discovered, and hearing the firing of guns in my rear, I rushed out over rocks, through bushes, into streams, and never paused until I had placed several miles be- tween myself and hateful Florence. Then came the question what to do. Go to Josie' s house I could not for many reasons, mainly because my presence there would imperil both herself and her father. There was no room for delay ; if I hesitated I was lost, and I de- termined to push for the house of one of the Loyal League. The person whom. I selected at once was Mr. 42 330 BOUTHERN PRiso?>ra : Brown, whose house I had visited before with Josie, and I accordingly made as straight as I conld for his residence, knowing well its locality. As I approached his place early upon the following morning, I saw him entering his barn to care for his horses, and in a moment stood face to face with him. OR, JCSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 331 CHAPTEE XXVI. PAROLE AT FLORENCE. The Loyal Leaguer's Home. — His Beautiful Daughter. — My Recap- ture. — My Parole and Interviews with my Wife. — Mr. Seymour's Departure for Europe. Over all men hangs a doubtful fate. Sir Jiobert JTozoard. Mr. Brown hardly knew me at first, but on my men- tioning Josie's name he recognized me, and at once cor dially tendered me the hospitalities of his house. I found him a generous, jovial, and above all a most trustworthy man, and in his daughter, Lizzie, my heart would certainly have found an object fully worthy of its affections, had they not been already preoccupied. She was a blonde, her ancestors being of northern birth, and had the pure sweet face, the golden hair and the deep blue eyes which are peculiar to this style of beauty. Her mother was a noble specimen of American matron- hood, and in her I first realized my ideal of the true wife in the sacred circle of home. "Indeed it is only within the circle of her domestic assiduity that we can judge of the true worth of a wo- man, or make a correct estimation of her forbearance, her virtue and her felicity. There are displayed all the finer feelings of which the pure heart of woman is sus- ceptible. It is in the midst of trial and suffering, mis- 332 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; fortune and angnish, that the nobler traits of the true wife are displayed in all their characteristic grandeur. Adversity only increases the ardor of her attachment ; and the constancy and intensity of her devotion are such as no changes or chances can estrange or subdue. There are no recriminations to drive love away ; no violence to alienate the heart ; no neglect to impel to desperation. All is love, kindness and persuasion. Oh, what is more sweet, more calculated to enhance the value of domestic relationship, than for a man, cast down, worried, almost driven to despair, to turn his footsteps away from the busy world and mingle with the loved ones at home ! — to have a place where feeling and sympathy are mani- fested ; where glance responds to glance, and heart to heart — where the sweet musical voice of one nearest and dearest to the soul, life-inspiring, yet unobtrusive in its counsel, sends him forth again with a stronger shoulder to stem the tide of adversity. Few secrets are so impor- tant as that of knowing how to make home happy. Beauty of features is not necessary. Ordinary features, when lit up with the sunbeams of sensibility, generally excite the same passions which they express, and the winning attraction of their smile invests them with pecu- liar charms, like the variegated hues with which a bril- liant rainbow tints the gloomy clouds. The proud and dangerous gift of genius is not necessary. Let a woman possess what is infinitely more valuable — ^good common sense, and intellect sufficient to direct it in the most ap- propriate manner to all the practical purposes of life. Let there be truthfulness and integrity in her nature, strengthened by a thorough course of mental discipline, and it will not fail to give beauty and power to her thoughts and character. It does not consist in the ready OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINF OF FLORENCE. B33 flow of conversation, captivating in its vivacity, brilliant in its fresli conceptions, charming in its polished sen- tences, dazzling in its witticisms, and instructive m its solidity. True, these qualifications, combined with those constituted to render home happy, may make a woman the embodiment of all which the most noble and ima ginative heart could wish or desire ; but they are not essentially necessary. A woman with ordinary features and ordinary abilities may make home very jaleasant and agreeable. And who would not prefer such a one to her who — no matter how beautiful or bewitching — puts on her smiles like her ornaments, and dresses her mind like her person, for company, in painted colors, ficti- tious charity, and pinchbeck benevolence ! The true secret of making home happy is to ham tlie heart in the right place! to have the charity to overlook foibles ; to learn to forgive and to forget, and never to be too proud to make concessions — ever, as it were in- tuitively, with a blind man's instinct, detecting those thousand little things that evince, in silence, a devotion and aflfection unspeakable. But, above all, the wife should possess that genuine piety which leads her to forget herself in seeking the glory of God and the hap- piness of her fellow beings. The useful attainments of life should be blended with the lighter accomplishments, and the attractive amenity of her manners should spring less from the polish of intercourse than from the inborn sweetness of her disposition. She must be a woman true to herself, her nature and her destiny — one daring to break away from the slavery of fashion and t>i3 al- lurements of pleasure, and to seek her happiness in the path of duty alone. She must be tender in her sympa- thy ; firm, yet not ostentatious in her piety — a woman 334 SOTJTnERN PRISONS ; self-possessed, having the tranquil air of one conscious of her own moral strength, and of the existence of im- pulses and feelings too sacred to be lightly displayed to a world which has nothing in common with them, and which, therefore, in the ark of love at home, gush forth, like a leaping fountain, in all their fullness and their glory. She can be strong in the very reserve and shrink- ing delicacy of her character, and, even while appearing to waver, diffuse a tranquilising influence over all around her, like the falling of the pure, soft light, felt but not heard, swaying all by the magic cestus of her love. The pains the vdfe took to charm the husband before marriage should be doubled afterward. From that pe- riod they become a world of their own. The tie that binds them should be immaculate strength — impossible to be withered by the false refinement of vitiated society. To a husband wearied with toil, dejected in body and spirit, there is nothing so sweet as a look, a word, an act of kindness dictated by a good disposition. It is like dew to the flowers ; like water to the parched lips of a weary traveler over Asiatic dearth ; like the soft, cool hand of friendship on the fevered brow of the con- valescent. How rich a man must feel in the conscious- ness of possessing a woman' s love that cannot be wearied or exhausted, that cannot be chilled by selflshness, weakened by unworthiness, nor destroyed by ingrati- tude — a love that rises superior to the afflictions of mis- fortune, leaping from the heart of a woman who, when all the world forsake him, will be all the world to him." " 'T IS not m Hymen's gay propitious hour, With summer beams and genial breezes blest, That man a consort'3 worth approveth best; 'T is when the SKies with gloomy tempests lower, OR JOSIE, THE HEKOIJNE OF FLOKENCE. 336 When cares and sorrows all their torrents pour, She clasps him closer to her hallow'd breast, Pillows his head, and lays his heart to rest ; Drying her cheek from sympathetic shower." ' While Mr. Brown repaired to the house of Mr. Sey- mour to bring Josie to me, Lizzie and I engaged a pe- riod of delightful conversation which developed the grace of her mind and the purity of her soul, and caused me to regard her as one of the most charming young women that I had ever met. She told me the leading events which had occurred in the neighborhood, since my leaving Mr. Seymour's house so suddenly, and in the midst of our entertaining conversation the noise of horses' hoofs approaching was heard, and amid some alarm lest the comers might be Rebel cavalry, Mr. Brown entered the house, accompanied by my darling, and entered the room we were sitting in. Josie wore her full riding habit, and looked more charming than ever. I clasped her, my wife — as I could now boldly call her — and as I pressed my lijis to hers and drew her yielding form down into my arms, I experienced the most pure and intense delight which my tossed soul has ever known. I whispered a thousand words of fond endear- ment to her ; her answering silence and close embrace were eloquent replies. I learned by degrees that her father was well, and that my absence had caused both countless sleepless nights and anxiety, which had almost robbed my darling's cheek of its bloom. Mr. Seymour desired to go to England still, but had taken no steps in tliat direction because he knew Josie would be unwill- ing to accompany him untU tidings were received from me. As evening advanced, not even the sweet companion- 336 SOUTHERN prisons; ship of my darling could lull me into a sense of securi- ty, as I constantly felt apprehensive of recapture by a party of marauding Rebels. For hours, lured by the embraces of my young wife, I delayed at the house, re- volving many plans for placing my darling and myself in a i^lace of safety, but none seemed feasible, and at last I started up, startled by the barking of dogs, though evidently at a distance. There was no time to lose. I frantically embraced my weeping and almost heart-bro- ken young wife, and tore myself from her arms again with hardly a moment's notice. I hurried from the house, plunged into a stream of water, and waded in its bed for half a mile or so, to destroy the scent of the hounds, and then pushed out into the woods. But my strength seemed not so great as usual. The hounds, af- ter a couple of hours, got upon the scent again, and after a desperate flight until early morning, I was again over- taken and nearly torn to pieces before the master of the hounds came up. I was retaken and ignominiously taken back to Florence, where the commander gave me a ball and chain for three months, in consideration of my numerous escapes, and sent me into camp. I had hardly worn it two hours, however, before I released myself from the incumbrance by the old process. Upon the morning of September 28th there hung over our camp a dark cloud of sorrow, intermixed with gloom and silence ; and as I stood for some time view- ing the shadowy scene, the first tender tints of morning appeared on the verge of the horizon, stealing upon the darkness ; — so pure, so fine, so ethereal ; it seemed as if heaven was opening to the view. The dark mists were seen to roll off to the west as the tints of light grew stronger, deepening the obscurity of that part of the OR JOSIE, THE HEEOrisrE OF FIORENCF 337 hemisphere, and involving the features of the country below ; meanwhile, in the east, the hues became more vivid, darting a trembling lustre far around, till a ruddy glow, which filled all that part of the heavens, announ- ced the rising sun. At first a small line of inconceivable splendor emerged on the horizon, which, quickly ex- panding, the sun appeared in all his glory, unveiling the whole face of nature, vivifying every color of the landscape, and sprinkling the dewy earth with glittering light. The low and gentle responses of birds, awakened by the morning ray, now broke the silence of the hour, their soft warbling rising by degrees till they swelled the chorus of universal gladness. My heart swelled with gratitude and adoration at the scene, though in a South- ern prison ; it soothed my mind, and exalted my thoughts to the great Author of nature, and my mind, losing the feelings which had so lately oppressed it, became tranquil and composed. After partaking of my breakfast, which consisted of a small piece of hard corn bread, — a healthy meal for one young and growing — I decided to stroll about the camp during the day and ascertain the real amount of suffering in my gloomy prison. Very few people, if any, could readily imagine the extent and magnitude of the suffering and hardships endured by our brave boys in that loathsome prison The sights that I saw upon this day will never leave my memory. Oh ! how could a civilized people be so barbarous and wicked. Fifteen thousand men crowded into an area of about twelve acres, scarcely giving them room to lie down, and all having no shelter, save wretched ^holes dug often by their hands in the earth The same horrible scenes were to be witnessed here as at Belle Isle and Andersonville , 43 338 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; men in all conditions of disease, famished, covered with sores and vermin, in miserable rags or half naked, and many praying to die. The so-called hospital was the usual mockery of the name ; a filthy pen, crowded, and with no convenience or comfort for the sick. One boy, not over sixteen, particularly excited my compassion. He was from New York, and had entered the service as a drummer, had been captured at Gettysburg, and had been a prisoner ever since. He told me where his home was in the distant North, — for he knew he was dying, — he handed me a pocket Bible and some other relics, and asked me, if I lived to return to our homes, to give them to his mother. A fearful storm raged that night, and the mind of the boy began to wander, as I could distinguish from his murmurs, and he slowly raised himself from his miserable couch, and with that bright intense light in the eyes which accompanies insanity and delirium of any kind, he muttered, "I'll do it." "I'll do it." I could form no conception of his intention, but soothed him, and sought to induce him to lie down and compose himself. Before I could take thought to prevent it, he started from me, burst out of the so-called hospital, and rushed towards the dead line with all the remaining strength he possessed. I pursued, but it was too late ; he swiftly approached it — crossed it — and as I involuntarily paused at his madness, I heard the sharp crack of a rifle, saw the boy plunge forward and fall heavily to the ground, and I knew he was dead at last by the bullet of the guard. I saw an old acquaintance die there whom I had known at Belle Island, but that was nothing, such was our treatment, while indeed the whole prison was one scene of unutter- able horror. OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOI]S"E OF FLOKENCE. 339 Upon tlie morning of October ITtli, the officer in command informed me that some one was waiting at the main gate who desired to see me. Having dreamed of my darling constantly since my incarceration, I instantly concluded it was Josie ; nor was I deceived, for I found her standing at the gate, and the smile which irradiated her face was a harbinger of good news. And so it proved, as she informed me she had made arrangements for getting me temporarily released upon a parole of honor. I was at once relieved of my ball and chain, and at nine o' clock the next morning I received a parole from the commanding officer, and a new suit of clothes from my wife, and was set at work chopping cord wood for the use of the prisoners in camp. This parole Josie had obtained through the intercession of Capt. Walker, the Atlanta commanding officer, who had long known and admired her, and who was now visiting at her fa- ther's house. Of course neither of the two communi- cated to Capt Walker the fact of the daughter being married to a Union soldier, and he supposed lier still unmarried altogether. So when she told him she had taken pity on a prisoner confined at Florence, and would gladly do something to alleviate his condition ; the Captain willingly and gallantly visited the com- mander at Florence, and possessed sufficient influence with him to procure the desired favor, and I was there- fore given a sort of liberty. The blessing of communication with my darling was, however, but short. One evening, very soon after I received my parole, I met her at dusk as agreed upon, and we walked out into the forest — my presence at the prison only being required in the morning, as there was but one roll call each day — and as we massed slowly 340 eouTHEEN prisons; along, whispering vows of eiernax love and fidelity, and exchanging those confidences which had now gained for us a new delight, we met Mr. Seymour walking to- wards us — he having previously agreed with Josie to meet us at this point, not wishing to be seen at head- quarters. His cheeks were pale, and his whole count- enance betokened despair, while his lips trembled as he gave utterance to a few kind words of welcome. Our gathering soon revealed the unhappy fact that we must soon separate, Mr. Seymour' s position having be- come so critical in view of the coming destruction of the Southern Confederacy, that he felt it imperative to fly at once to Europe. Josie would not accompany him and leave me in peril at the South, and hence it became clear that we must part. Mr. Seymour gave me his address, which was to be Liverpool, England, and it was arranged that Josie should be committed to the protec- tion of ine Loyal Leaguer, Mr. Brown, until I should be released or discharged, which I felt could not be an event very far distant, as the success of the North was becoming more assured each day. Mr. Seymour had made all the necessary preparations, was now ready to start, and had determined to take the evening train for Wilmington, from which port he expected to sail upon his final trip. After an hour's conversation, during which time everything was satisfactorily arranged, and plainly understood between us, as to the course we were to pursue, Mr. Seymour gave us his farewell blessing, and with tears in his eyes, hastily left us, almost heart- broken at the thought of so soon parting from his daughter, while Josie and I engaged in a mournful interview of more than an hour. Embraces, protesta- tions of love, and bitter regret at the sad fate which OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 341 severed ns, were the chief constituents of our parting. Our feelings were too deep for words, and our only con- solation in this bitter hour of affliction was that we felt the certainty that each would prove unalterably true to the other through all changes and all perils. With a last yearning embrace, and a last kiss of love, I tore myself from her arms and sadly returned to my prison home, while she, under the escort of Bob, who had re- mained at a discreet distance during our interview, repaired to the mansion. Upon my return to my lonely cabin, I found all my companions asleep, and I quietly sat down to review the past. My mind was oppressed with thought, and for hours I sat by my little window looking out upon the beautiful landscape, musing over my own solitary condition, before seeking my couch to rest. *' Thoughts flit and flutter through the mind, As o'er the waves the shifting wind ; Trackless and traceless is their flight, As falhng stars of yesternight, Or the old tide-marks on the shore, Wnich other tides have rippled o'er." For me, this was a gloomy hour, and dark forebodings of the future tilled my heart. Mr. Seymour's voj^age was full of peril, and its result could be foretold by no human gaze. Capture by the Federal cruisers would imply a long imprisonment, perhaps great financial loss. Even though he escaped to England safe, he was three thousand miles away, where he could hardly be of ser- vice to myself or to his daughter. The future opened no prospect of immediate relief from these gloomy sur- roundings. I could not help being oppressed by the dark clouds which seemed to be settling down about the 342 SOUTHEEN PKISONS ; lives of those who were dear to me, and about my own. Was it strange that my musings were of a bitter sort, and that there seemed few rays of hope shedding serene light over a cheerless and melancholy scene ? Yet my courage did not forsake me. I calmly awaited the issue of events, which, perhaps, were not so fraught with des- pair as some of those encountered before. OR. JOSIE, THE HEROIjSTE OF FLORENCE. 343 CHAPTER XXYII. WAITING FOR EXCHANGE. My Parole Withdrawn. — The Position of my Wife. — Continued Im- prisonment at Florence. — I Determine no Longer to Attempt Escape. — Final view of my Prison Experience. " And these vicissitudes tell best in youth ; Adversity is the first path to truth : He who hath proved war, storm, or woman's rage. Whether his winters be eighteen or eighty. Hath won the experience which is deemed so weighty." Byron My parole of honor continued in force for a number of days, during which I received daily visits from Josie, and after long and delightful interviews, she each even- ing returned to her home, accompanied by the ever faithful Bob. Josie had now retired to the home of Mr. Brown, the Loyal Leaguer, — Mr. Seymour having dis- posed of all his property, including his residence, pre- vious to his departure for Europe — to whose care she had been entrusted until I should be able to get free from the hands of the Rebels, and take my position as my wife' s natural and rightful protector. Within a short time after this change occurred, how- ever, I was most unexpectedly deprived of my liberty, so far as it extended, by an order restricting me within the walls of the prison, and condemning me to wear a 344 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; ball and chain. I conjectured at the time, both the cause and the author of the deed, and subsequent developments proved fully the correctness of my conclu- sions. It mil be remembered that it has been previously explained, that Captain Walker had formerly been an admirer of the lady now my wife, and Josie had told me, that since his coming from Atlanta to the vicinity of Florence, he had paid her marked attention, and seemed strongly disposed to declare himself a suitor for her hand. She had avoided his addresses almost entirely, yet being under some obligation to him because of his intercession on my behalf, the poor girl was placed in a very embarrassing position, and during her residence at the home of Mr. Brown, was often annoyed by his atten- tions. That worthy gentleman, however, took good care that these attentions should never go farther than com- pliment, and Josie always studiously avoided him, so that his suit never blossomed into prosperity. But for some reason, probably from some report which reached him of our having been observed together often. Captain Walker had conceived a violent jealousy of me, and this, I conjectured and afterwards learned, was the cause of my parole being withdrawn. And in this connection it may be well to end Captain Walker s history, so far as I ever learned it. He stayed in the vicinity of Florence until Sherman's victorious troops approached Charles- ton, when he went to the latter city, and in a skirmish between the armies was taken prisoner by the Union forces. Of his subsequent history I knoAv nothing. From this time forward I was kept in close confine- ment at Florence, and I was utterly unable to procure a single interview with Josie, no doubt through the con- tinued malignity of Captain Walker. The reader can ttAter^r t£l^WiW'fS^^&fW^3m M.Y Parole y/iTHnRAWN 1 OR. JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 345 imagine with what feelings I endured this galling bond- age, cut off from all association with my own dear wife, whom I so tenderly loved, for whose affection I had undergone so much, and who was hopelessly separated from me by the space of only a few miles. Under all the agony of this position, I had, hoAvever, two consola- tions ; first, that my darling was safe at the home of a true man, watched over and cherished by a loving family, and cheered and sustained by the sweet companionship of Lizzie, her protector' s daughter, in whom she could wholly confide ; second, that no very great length of time could now elapse before the triumphant Union armies should sweep every horrible prison pen in the South out of existence. I felt that I had endured the climax of Rebel outrage and wrong, and that whatever might be the pri- vations and sufferings of the next few months, they could not kill me, sustained and beckoned on by a beau- tiful and pure woman' s love. Indeed, I believe I should have lived on despite any cruelty or privation in mere defiance of the barbarous Rebels. Life had lately grown wonderfully sweet to me, so sweet that I had entirely lost that recklessness which characterized my career un- til I had learned to know the wealth given to me in the love of my wife, and to prize it duly. I had ceased to plot escapes, recoUing now from the risks which invari- bly attended them, and anxious to preserve a life which might grow so full of happiness. Besides all previous escapes, though often skillfully conceived, and promising most fairly, had altogether miscarried, and I had no reason to believe that those which I might devise in fu- ture would turn out any more successful. On the whole, then, I determined now to await quietly the events of the winter, confident that the coming spring u 346 SOUTHEKN PRISONS ; would result in a glorious victory for the ISTorth, and break the shackles of every Union prisoner at the South. Meanwhile, as winter approached, matters at Florence steadily grew worse. The weather became colder — often severely so — notwithstanding the Southern latitude of the town. The rations were steadily diminished, until they hardly constituted enough to maintain a man' s life ; the clothing became worn out, and many men were half naked at even this inclement season, and the general condition of things became truly deplorable. Often men were found frozen to death in the morning, sometimes as many as twenty at a time. It has been often said that the world does not know its greatest men, and certainly the grandest acts of her- oism are often performed by men in the humblest sta- tion. What are the grandest acts of heroism 1 Not such as are narrated by the historian as illustrating the world' s battle-fields, though leading a forlorn hope, or planting the country's flag upon the deadly rampart from which it had been shot away, justly excite our admiration. Deeds yet more heroic are done in the fevered wards of hospitals, on the ship' s deck upon the stormy sea, in the mine far below the earth' s surface, in lonely vigils on light boats, in many places where no eye but that of Omniscience witnesses them. The grandest and most brilliant, if not the noblest, exhibition of devo- tion to duty, under the most fearful trial to which human nature could possibly be subjected, is the firmness of our Union prisoners during all their trials and sufierings, to stand firm to the Union cause. Their deeds demand the warmest and wddest recognition ; for it needs no fine woras to embellish them. The simplest recital of the OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOIK-E OF FLOEEIS-CE. 347 facts sufBces for placing their actions before the world as worthy of its homage. You fathers who bade your sons answey the call of their country during its gloom, war and bloodshed, can you forbear bitter thoughts when you read of the treatment they met with in Southern prisons, the terrible suffering they passed through, their fearful agony, their dread- ful death ? And you, kind mothers, who have watched over and cared for that beautiful blue-eyed youth for so many years, with delightful hopes as to his future ; you who have spent wakeful nights in walking the floor of your chambers, with your only boy in your arms during his sickness in babyhood, you who bore that chiid^ amidst poverty and sickness ; j^ou whose son was the star and delight of the circle in which he moved before his enlistment, and the pride of all friends, have you ever thought seriously, carefully of his awful end? But this is enough. No more upon this point, which awakens in your hearts every remembrance of the dead. I would not cause fresh tears to flow down those pale cheeks that are scarcely dry from others shed before ; neither do I wish to open the old wounds afresh, for they have bled enough. Your boy suffered before death, he now enjoys the reward which is given to the brave. Your husband has gone ; he will be with you no more upon this earth, his last prayers were for you, and for his loved ones. Let us hope we may meet him in heaven. As this prison at Florence was the last one in which I was confined previous to my being exchanged, and as there cannot be anything more said upon the subject of prison life without repeating what I have already 348 SOUTHEEIT prisons; spoken of, I now deem it due to myself and my readers to make a few closing remarks as regards my prison life, and what I saw, and where I traveled, though I cannot admit that the subject of imprisonment is fully exhausted, but, as 1 have already stated, no pen can adequately describe its suffering and horror. From the date of my capture to that of my release, I was con- fined between thirteen and fourteen months, during which time not fewer than 80,000 or 90,000 prisoners — that is in all the prisons — perished from sickness, exposure and starvation. I made six different escapes, traveling a distance of about fifty miles upon each occasion, (that is about what it would average.) I traveled through all the principal cities in the greater part of the South, learning the habits and manners of the people as I passed on. I was also confined in fourteen diff'erent prisons, a great many of which I have made no mention of, they all being similar ; have talked with hundreds of rebel officers and soldiers, and was released from prison twice upon a parole of honor. I handled and helped to bury about 5,000 of our prisoners who died, and was four times placed in the " stocks," a most bru- tal punishment. I also wore a ball and chain at diff'er- ent times for two months. Was twice placed in irons, was three weeks in a dungeon at Castle Thunder in Richmond, and was once threatened with being hung upon the scaffold for breaking mj^ parole of honor. I was also twice afflicted with the scurvy. And it was in these frightful prisons that men might be seen with one leg buried in the earth, sometimes both, and occasion- ally one would be noticed buried up to his neck, and fed in that way for eight or ten days. This was the system they adopted for curing the scurvy, the men not OB, JOSIE, THE HEROIIirE OF FLORET^^CE. 349 being able to obtain vegetables for that purpose. Dur- ing my captivity I also had a full view of many of the Rebel camps at different points, and when I think of the Rebel armies that I have seen, I can scarcely help looking back upon them now with feelings half frater- nal. They were ragged and reckless to be sure, yet they were always careful to keep their bayonets bright, and their lines of battle well dressed, reduced some- times to dire extremities, yet always ready for a fight ; rough and rude, yet knowing well how to make a field illustrious. "Who can forget them," (says a prom- inent officer of our army,) "the brave, bronzed faces that looked at us for four years across the flaming pit ; men with whom in a hundred fierce grapples we fought with remorseless desperation, and all the terrible en- ginery of death, until on the one side and the other a quarter of a million men fell, and j^et whom we never hated, except that they struck at the old flag?" In this faithful history of the events, the barbarities and the sufferings of an imprisonment for little over a year among men whose names have become a word of reproach, who are universally recognized as "Rebels," the most atrocious since the fallen angels became rebels against high heaven, it has only been possible for me to depict a fragment of the truth. Mind cannot, un- aided, conceive the hells through which brave Union soldiers endured for years and died, and which have left their indelible stamp upon most who survived, in ruined constitutions and horror-stricken minds The world cannot present such another spectacle as that of government authorities, in a Christian age and land, with their people looking on and applauding, deliber- ately, coolly, and with the malice of fiends, working out 350 SOTJTHERW PBISOIS-S ; a slow process of torture upon 100,000 brave men, whom no fault of their own, but the demands of an out- raged country, and the fortune of war, always uncer- tain, had placed in their hands. For this scheme of horrible brutality the Confederate leaders, and at least some of their tools, will rank immortal in the annals of stupendous crime. As one of these unfortunates, and as a Michigan soldier, I do here place upon record my testimony of the heroic bravery, the calm fortitude, the patient suffering, and the martyr deaths of those soldiers of the nation who died in Southern prisons. And I do execrate, as they deserve, the inhuman and hellish acts of our oppressors, of the same race, of the same language, and but yesterday brothers, with us in amity. I desire that future generations may here read and properly appreciate the deeds of these fiends ; deeds which turned this land into mourning ; deeds which must leave their ineradicable effects to pass into the next generation, and cause misery and sorrow there ; deeds which stamp their perpetrators as the most in- famous wretches of all time, and for which they must yet answer to an offended God. The monuments in the Union prison cemeteries at the South bear simple inscrip- tions. They only tell that these men died at Anderson- ville or Florence, or it may be Belle Island, but the citizen, in future, reading these simple inscriptions, will never be able to efface from his mind the fact that these monuments are not only commemorative of the dead, but equally so of the stupendous wickedness of those men, leaders and followers, who pursued these prison- ers, unarmed and defenceless, to a painful and linger- ing, but heroic death. The nation mourns her brave. She asks their lives of her own people, but the only answer can be that they are gone. Slain by her own OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOIT^E OF FLOEENCE. 351 citizens, dead of famine and cruelty perpetrated by her own family ; the old ties of brotherhood disregarded and forgotten ; even the bonds of womanly affection loosened. Verily these men who thus treated their Union prisoners were fiends of hell. " Hell at last Yawning receiv'd them whole, and on them closed, Hell, their fit habitation, fraught with fire Unquenchable, the house of woe and pain." Nothing but the constitution of Southern society could have given rise to such a race of human mon- sters ; a society which was born of power unrestrained, of lust unregulated, and barbarity uncontrolled. It is probable that no other land on the face of the globe could have produced a race of men so utterly regardless of all the amenities of civilized life, as were those South- ern Rebels. They will stand in American history as models of ferocity, of brutal treatment towards unfor- tunate captives, and of high-handed and wicked rebel- lion towards the national government. How shall Jefierson Davis, Generals Winder, Lee, and Captain Wirtz, and other oificials, answer to an ofi'ended God for the safety of well loved sons whom He, in the inscrutable mystery of his ways, put into their hands ? They must stand convicted before high heaven of torture and murder, and no conventionalities can wash their deep and dark sins away. They must remain for all time in the history of the American Re- public, the chief plotters in a scheme of unparalleled wickedness and crime. Their unrelenting cruelty made martyrs of ninety thousand heroes, men whose very countenances betokened their gallantry, and whose 352 SOXTTHEEN PEISOI^S ; bodies were covered with scars contracted amid the furi- ous storm of battle ; men whose names are carved out in golden letters upon imperishable monuments, and whose patriotism and noble deeds are the most refulgent glories of our national history. By heaven ! I say, let all earth bear witness to their deeds of blood and cruel- ty, and testify to their torture and starvation of Union prisoners, that they may be execrated by the world's noblest sons. OB, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OP FLORENCE. 35i CHAPTER XXYIII. OTHER SOUTHERN PRISOXS. The Leading places of Confinement at the South not Already Described. — Treatment of the Officers. — Junius Henri Browne on the Treat- ment of the Prisoners at Salisbury. — Intense Suffering and Whole- sale Murder of the Captives. — Pen Pictures of the Prison. — Agoni- zing Scenes. — Enlistment of our Soldiers in the Rebel Service. — Shuddering Strangeness of the Past. — The Secretary of War Re- sponsible for the Sacrifice of Ten Thousand Lives. A prison is in all things like a grave Where we no better privileges have Than dead men ; nor so good. Bishop Chichester. I have thus described what took place as experienced by myself within the various principal prisons of the South in which I was confined. There were, however, several others of note, or rather notoriety, and to make the picture entirely complete and truthful, I propose to give a sketch of the general character of the principal of them, which I have ascertained from careful investi- gation, and through full conversation and consultation with prisoners who had been therein confined. Amongst the foremost of these was the Libby Prison at Richmond, where officers where generally held in durance, where many Union men died, and from which not a few made gallant and perilous escapes. The 45 354 SOUTHERN PUISONS ; building was an old tobacco factory, rough enough both on the outside and inside, but affording in the great, barrack-like rooms, at least sheltei!' from the in- clemencies of the weather and warmth. The rations furnished to the officers, tliough course, were generally comparatively sufficient in quantity, and they did not suffer from hunger, as did the privates. With vermin they were compelled to contend, as did the private soldiers, their personal appearance being neglected per- force in such a crowd that thronged the old warehouse, and the appliances for washing and general cleanliness being most woefully disregarded by the Rebels as an unvarying rule. They were also searched when taken there, as were the privates, and everything in the way of valuables taken from them. Sometimes, too, though not as a rule, they were subjected to gross insults and indignities at the hands of Rebel officers who chanced for a time to be in command over them, and to want the first quality of an officer and gentleman, generosity and delicacy to a brave foe whom the fortune of war had placed in his hands. But as a general thing, the treat- ment of the officers was widely different from that ac- corded to the privates, and they never suffered one-hun- dreth part of what was endured by those upon whom fell the brunt of the war. At Libby Prison, at various times, there were confined Gen. O. B. Wilcox, of Michi- gan, whom every one now knows ; Col., (or as he after- wards became) Gen. Michael Corcoran, whose accidental death the country so deeply regretted in the tail of 1863, and whose fame in New York was attested by the great- est funeral procession that ever turned out in that city, though as all will remember who were present on the occasion, the day was eminently unpropitious, the sky OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 855 being obscured by gloomy clouds, and occasionally driz- zling showers of rain descending ; notwithstanding which, Broadway was packed full by the procession, extending, as it did at one time, from the Battery to the Park at Fourteenth street. So, too, Col. Streight, of raiding fame, was afterwards shut up in Libby by the Rebels, who bore him an especial ill-will because of his forays through Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi, which among the first demonstrated to them the im- mense damage which the Union cavalry could, and was about to do them by great incursions into their ter- ritory, rutting up railroads, destroying bridges, and (;arrying off provisions ; yes, even burning all those which they could not carry off, and even still further, the mills which alone enabled the people of the South to grind their meal, and thus prepare the materials out of which their food was to be made. His last expedi- tion, however, was unfortunate. He was ordered on a raiding foray through Northern Georgia and Alabama. He had a provisional brigade from Rosecran's army, and to mount them he was furnished with mules. This class of animals might have answered well enough had they been of the proper age, and capable of bearing fatigue. As it was, they averaged but about two years old, and broke down very soon after Streight had com- menced his campaign ; another instance of the murder- ous scoundrelism of many contractors during the war. Streight was pursued by the Rebel General Forrest, whose name is destined to go down to infamy, as the "Butcher of Fort Pillow," and after four or five battles with a largely superior force, was compelled to succumb near Rome, Georgia, after having lost about one- third of his force. On Streight, while confined in Libby 356 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; Prison, the Rebels lavished every indignity which rage and malice could suggest. In Libby Prison, too, the officers were allowed books, which they read and often studied hard. Many an officer, during the long dreary hours of captivity, cultivated a knowledge of Latin, Greek, French, or the sciences which has proved an incalculable advantage in his sub- sequent career. I do not speak of these differences between the con- dition of the officers or privates individually, or with any desire that they might have suffered as did the pri- vates, but simply as matters of fact, and especially for two weighty reasons ; first, the accounts of life in the Rebel prisons published hitherto, have been almost en- tirely the work of men confined in prison with the Union officers, and who gathered all their information from the spectacles presented there. Such were particularly the two correspondents of the New York Tribune^ Messrs. Richardson and Browne, who were taken at Vicksburg. My second reason is, because the horrible barbarities practiced upon the privates were, through- out the war, and are to a great degree yet, only par tially believed by the American people, and were so doubted by these very officers, not from any want of interest in the fate of their men, but simply from want of opportunity to form any adequate judgment. I have already spoken somewhat of Castle Thunder, another notorious place of imprisonment in Richmond. The commander was, during most of the time. Captain George W. Alexander, an ex-Marylander, and who at one time was assistant engineer in the United States Navy. As a general rule he was kind enough to the prisoners, though pompous and vain, and sometimes OR. JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREI^CE. 357 getting angry quite suddenly, during which periods he raved and stormed about like a mad man ; "but the tu- mult was soon generally quieted, and that without any serious results having been occasioned. Castle Thunder generally contained about 1,500 in- mates, at least towards the close of the war, who were thus huddled together, altogether too closely for comfort or health. Its inmates were not usually prisoners of war technically, but Northern citizens, Southern Unionists, deserters, and a few negroes. Sometimes prisoners who were retaken after an attempted escape, were thrust into its gloomy cells, and it had a few condemned cells in which were confined prisoners ordered to be executed for various offences. Its reputation abroad was gen- erally worse than that of Libby Prison, but it was not usually so much worse as to have occasioned much re- mark, except from the gloom that attached to its dark cells, from which many a man only came forth to die. Both from Castle Thunder and Libby Prison many escapes were made which have become famous, but the ease with which these escapes were often effected, de- pended upon the nearness of the Union lines, which a resolute push of four or five nights would readily reach. On the other hand, the difficulty with us at Anderson- ville, away down in Georgia, in the very heart of the Con- federacy, consisted not in the men getting away from the prison, but in the dangers to be encountered during the long march which must be undergone afterwards, and the probabilities that before it was finished, the fugitive would be so unfortunate as to stumble upon a prowling band of Rebels, and have all his anxiety, labor and risk for nothing, as occurred to myself when on the borders of East Tennessee. Had I remained at Belle 368 SOTTTHERN PRISONS ; Island I have no doubt, whatever, that I should have been out of the hands of the enemy long before that event actually happened. At Salisbury, ^. C, was still another place of con- finement, the building being the Confederate States Penitentiary. It was a brick building, and originally intended for a cotton warehouse. There were also standing around it some five or six smaller brick build- ings, and all these were usually filled with prisoners, chiefly Northern citizens. Southern Unionists, Confed- erate deserters, who were thought not fit to be trusted again in the ranks as yet, and whom yet the Govern- ment did not see fit to shoot. Attached to this prison, however, was a court yard of some four acres, in which the prisoners were, most of them, allowed to walk dur- ing much of the daj^ and thus enjoyed not only com- parative liberty, but fresh air and health. Later, how- ever, in the war, the condition of affairs at Salisbury prison materially changed. Some ten thousand regular prisoners of war were crowded into the narrow quarters, and the same horrible scenes of misery and death as occurred at Andersonville, though upon a smaller scale, horrified the prisoners brought there before, who had previously entertained no conception that such things actually existed, nothwithstanding the tales which had already been circulated concerning the hellish treatment to which the Union privates were subjected. Of the treatment of the Union prisoners at Salisbury, Junius Henri Browne, in his work entitled " Four Years in Secessia," says : "After nine months of confinement, at Salisbury, some ten thousand enlisted men were sent thither from Rich- mond and other points ; and then began a reign of pam OR, JOSIE, THE HEKti^INE OF FLORENCE. 369 and horror such as I had believed oould not exist in this Republic under any circumstances. Our poor soldiers had been robbed of their blankets, overcoats, often their shoes and blouses, and were sent there in inclement weather, and turned for some weeks into the open inclosure without shelter. After a while they were given tents capable of accom- modating about half their number ; and there they began to sicken and die from cold and hunger — the rations being sometimes only a piece of corn bread in forty-eight hours, until the daily mortality ranged from twenty-five to forty -five per day. The soldiers dug holes in the earth and under the dif- ferent buildings in the yard, constructed mud huts and shelters of baked clay, showing extraordinary energy and industry to shield themselves from wind and storm. But their attire was so scant, and their diet so mean and meager, that they died necessarily by hundreds. Hospital after hospital — by which I mean buildings with a little straw on the floor, and sometimes without any straw or other accommodation — was opened, andth- poor victims of Rebel barbarity were packed into them like sardines in a box. The hospitals were generally cold, always dii'ty and without ventilation, being little less than a protection from the weather. The patients — God bless them, how patient they were! — had no change of clothes, and could not obtain water sufficient to wash themselves. Nearly all of them sufiering from bowel complaints, and many too weak to move or be moved, one can ima- gine to what a state they were soon reduced. The air of those slaughter-houses, as the prisoner 860 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; were wont to call them, was overpowering and pestifer- ous. It seemed to strike you like a pestilential force on entrance, and the marvel was it did not poison all the sources of life at once. Imagine nine or ten thousand scantily clad, emaciated woe-begone soldiers — unnamed heroes, who had battled for our sacred cause on twenty blood-drenched fields — in an inclosure of five or six acres, half of them without other shelter than holes they had dug in the earth, or under the small buildings employed as hospitals. The weather is cold ; perhaps a chilly rain is falling, or the ground is covered with snow. There are the sol- diers — hundreds of them with naked feet, and only light blouses or shirts, hungry, feeble, despairing of the Pre- sent and hopeless of the Future — huddling over a small and smoky fire of green wood, in a crowded tent, whose very atmosphere is poisonous ; or standing shivering against the outside of the chimneys of the squalid hos- pitals, hoping to warm their blood a little from the par- tially heated bricks ; or drawn up in their narrow caves, inhaling the curling emanations of the burning pine, and striving to shelter themselves from the bitter wind ; or begging, with pallid and trembling lips, for shelter at the door of those lazar-houses where their companions in arms are lying in dirt, distress, and despair, breathing out their lives at the rate of thirty and forty a day. Look into those hospitals — strange perversion of the name ! — which are small brick and log buildings, twenty- five by sixty feet, and see how a people who boast of their generosity and chivalry can treat the prisoners they have taken in honorable warfare. There lie the prisoners, in the scant and tattered clothes they were graciously permitted by the Rebels to OR, JOSIE. THE HEROIlsrE OF FLOEEI^'CE. 361 keep, filthy from the impossibility of obtaining water to wash themselves, with no beds nor bedding, no covering even, perchance without straw ; tossing and groaning their miserable lives away. Fires blaze at one end. it may be at both ends of the tenements ; but the heat extends not far, and the cold wind rushes in from the broken windows and through the crevices in the walls ; while the air is mephitic and noisome to such a degree, that when you breathe it first it is almost suffocating. What a ghastly line of faces and figures ! To have seen them once is to remember them always. They are more like skeletons in rags than human beings. Ever and anon some of them rise and strive to obey such calls as Nature makes ; and a companion, less weak and wasted than they, bears them, as if they were children, over the dirt-incrusted floor, and lays them down again to suffer to the end. Here lies a boy of sixteen or seventeen, whose mother, in some far-off' Northern home, is praying for him every night and morning ; to whom sisters are wiiting words of cheer and sympathy he will never see — muttering in fever, and beckoning with shrunken hands to forms no mortal eye can discover, but which may be waiting to bear his brave young spirit home. There is a gray-haired man, who left his farm and fire-side when the traitorous gun at Sumter woke a world to arms. He has passed unscathed through forty bat- tles, to die an unrecorded hero here. His eyes are fixed, and his minutes are numbered. Children and grand-children are looking with anxious faces at all dispatches and letters from the Army of the 46 3p2 SOUTHERN PRISONS; Potomac, but will not learn, for months, the fate of one who was only a private. "Is this man here?" carefally inquires a soldier, looking in at the door and reading the address of a let- ter. The answer is in the affirmative, and the ward-mas- ter calls out, "Mr. , here's a Northern letter for you." There is no eagerness to hear. The person addressed does not even turn his head. Strange, for he has waited many weary weeks to see the characters of that well-known hand ; has dreamed night after night, amid the pauses of his pain, of reading the sweet assurances of his dear wife' s love. These are the words : "Dearest Husband : I have not heard from you for months. I cannot believe any harm has befallen you ; for I have faith that heaven will re- store you to me at once. I feel sure my deep and ear- nest prayers have been answered ; that my affection wUl be as a shield to you, and my fond bosom again be your pillow." Blessed words ! what would he give if he could be hold them. Alas ! they have come too late. Her love has been lost in a greater love, and the life that is in a life to come. Through all the day and night corpses are carried from the hospitals to the dead-house, where the bodies are piled up like logs of wood, untU the rude cart into which they are thrown is driven off with its ghastly freight. At any hour one may see men bearing across the in- closure the pallid and wasted figure of a soldier, whom the Rebels had starved or frozen to death with malice prepense. OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOKENCE. 363 There goes into the dead-house a young man who, four years ago, was the idol of his circle. Possessed of beauty, genius, fortune, friends — all that could make Earth sweet — he quitted the attractions of a life of ease, and a luxurious home, and took up his musket that his country might be truly free. x>rot even she who loved him better than a sister, more intensely than a mother, would recognize him among the heaped-up dead. The unclosed eye and gaping jaw make that once handsome face hideous to view ; and suffering, and neglect, and cruelty, have changed it into a vision of repulsiveness and horror. But why seek to paint these scenes which defy des- cription ? Everywhere is pain, squalor, and horror. All day long, one sees wretched, haggard, sick, and dying men in every part of the inclosure. Their faces tell their story — an unwritten epic in the saddest num- bers. Their wasted forjns reveal the inhumanity and barbarity of a savage foe. Amid all that assemblage of thousands of men, though the sun shines, and the birds sing in the groves near by, not a laugh nor a jest is heard — not the faintest sound of merry-making. Not a single face relaxes into a smile ; every eye is dull with despondency ; every cheek sunken with want ; every lip trembling with unuttered pain. Disease and Death hold high carnival, and the mirror of misery is held up to every vacant stare. The air is heavy with plaints, and prayers, and groans, and over that accursed camp hangs the pall of despak. Guercino could paint no darker picture. Indeed, no limner, no artist in words or colors, could give a just ^dea of the scenes of this terrestrial Tophet. 364 ' oUTTTHEKN PEisoisrs ; Suffering everywhere, and no power to relieve it. In every tent and hole in the ground, wherever you tread or turn, gaunt and ghastly men, perishing by inches, glare on you like accusing spectres, until you find your- sell' forced to exclaim, "Thank God, I am not responsible for this!" Little, if anything, could be done for them medically. Hunger and exposure could not be remedied by the materia medica ; and to seek to heal them by ordinary means was like endeavoring to animate the grave. What advantage had quinine and opium when they could get neither bread nor raiment ? The sending of physicians into the prison limits was a ghastly farce, for the Rebel officers premeditatedly starved and froze our brave men, hoping to compel the Grovernment to ex- change, or to force the soldiers into the Southern service. Hundreds of the privates, anxious to save their lives, joined the enemy, trusting to the future ito escape. I can not blame them. Who could demand that they should await certain destruction in the form of disease, and cold, and hunger, when relief was offered them even by a cruel and barbarous foe ? No, I cannot censure those who forgot in such fearful hours all but their own salvation ; yet I can find no language too strong to praise the heroes that stood firm when they seemed deserted by their friends, their country, and their God. The Rebels, apparently not content with the ravages of disease, almost entirely superinduced by starvation and cold, fired upon the wretched prisoners whenever the humor seized them ; killing and wounding them without reason or pretext. The guards seemed influ- enced by a diabolical spirit, shooting men in their tents, OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 363 and in holes in the ground, seemingly in the merest wantonness. No one was safe. Whenever a sentinel felt in the mood, he would murder a "Yankee" without being removed from his post, or even asked why he did it_ Again and again, I myself saw soldiers fired upon hj the guard, and that too when they were transgressing no rule, and violating no order whatever. My readers may well ask, what motive had the enemy for such nefarious crimes ? I can only answer, that I have often put that question to myself ; that I am utterly at a loss to conceive his motive ; that he seemed actuated only by a fiendish malignity, to maim and murder as many Yankees as possible. On the 25th of November last, a few of the prisoners, perhaps a hundred or two, feeling that their condition was entirely desperate ; that they were being delibe- rately murdered by starvation and exposure, determined to attempt an outbreak ; knowing they could, at the worst, only be killed, and that death was almost certain if they remained in prison. Such arrangements as were practicable they speedily made, without giving any intimation to the other captives ; and, about one o' clock in the afternoon, fell upon the relief-guard, some twenty in number, when they entered the enclosure, and seized their muskets. Some of the guard resisted, and a fight occurred, in which two of the Rebels were killed and five or six wounded, with about the same loss on the part of the insurgents. The alarm was immediately given. The whole garri- son mounted the parapet ; and though, in a minute, the emeute was suppressed, the effort to get out of the gate 866 SOIJTHEBN PEISON^S ; having failed, they began firing indiscriminately upon the prisoners, albeit it was evident to the dullest obser- ver that the great majority had nothing whatever to do with what was called the insurrection. The prisoners, seeing they were to be shot down in cold blood, took refuge in the tents, behind the outbuild- ings and hospitals, and in the caves they had dug. But that made no difference. The Rebels discharged two of the field-pieces bearing on the camp, and continued firing into the tents upon the poor captives who were trying to screen themselves from the murderous balls. For fully half an hour the shooting went on, and, in that time, some seventy men were killed and wounded, not one of whom, I venture to say, had any intimation of the outbreak before it was undertaken, and who were as guiltless of any attempt at insurrection as infants unborn. That was a fair example of the animus of the foe. He found a pretext for wholesale slaughter, and availed himself of it to the uttermost. Woe to those who are responsible for all that hideous suffering ; to the inhuman Rebels who plundered our poor soldiers of their clothing, and turned them into that filthy pen to die ; who had store-houses full of provisions, and yet starved their unfortunate captives with a fiendish persistency which one must be a beKever in total depravity to understand ! The truth is, the minds of the Southern people have for many years been so abused by their leaders and newspapers ; their source of information respecting the North has been so poisoned; the feelings, opinions, habits, and intentions of the Free States have been so grossly misrepresented, that it is not singular the loyal OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIXE OF FLORENCE. 367 citizens of the Republic should be regarded by those dupes as thieves and assassins, barbarians and monsters. The Southern people, as a class, have had no means of judging of the Northerners, for they rarely traveled, or met socially those who had traveled ; and the conse- quence was, they believed whatever absurd and infamous statements thev heard from their demagogues, or read in their newspapers. For at least ten years — twenty-five would be nearer the truth — the South has been carefully and constantly stimulated and goaded into the bitterest hatred of, and direct enmity to, the North. The Southern leaders had long prepared for the overthrow of the Government, and believing the time ripe when Mr. Lincoln was elected, undertook the aggressive form of treason. Secession became a mania. It drove the embracers of the doctrine mad. All their worst passions were enkindled by it, and they swept through four years of agony and war to break themselves in pieces at the feet of the magnanimous and triumphant Nation. Now that I have escaped from that Hades of Salisbury, I marvel that I ever endured to breathe that pestilential air ; how I continued, week after week, and month after month, to keep my hold upon that dark point of the Planet. Truly, it seems like a nightmare dream ; and I can hardly realize I ever lived, and walked, and labored, in that place of shuddering horrors. While I sit writing in an easy-chair, glancing out of the window at the gay throng of the ever- changing Broadway, hear the peals of Trinity and the vast roar of the Metropolis, I wonder if I have not been drowsing, 3C8 BOUTHERN PEISONS ; after reading Poe, and following his ghastly fancies into the mystic sphere of sleep. It is not real, I think. With all this bustle, and energy, and beauty, and plenty, and enlightenment, and Christianity about me, it cannot be that a thousand miles away hundreds of heroes, who had borne our flag on dozens of immortal fields, died every week from the premeditated cruelty of the Kebels. Surely it cannot be, for the Government was aware of all the atrocities of Southern prisons ; it had heard the story over and over again from the lips of sufferers ; and, if it had been as represented, the Government would certainly have made some effort to relieve its stanch suj)porters and its brave defenders. Alas ! the story is too true ; it is written in thousands of unknown graves, whose occupants, when alive, cried to the Government for redress, and yet cried in vain ! As soon as Mr. Richardson and myself reached our lines, we determined to visit Washington even before returning to New York, to see what could be done for the poor prisoners we had left behind, and determine what obstacles there had been in the way of an exchange. We were entirely free. We owed nothing to the Rebels nor to the Government for our release. We had obtained our own liberty, and were very glad of it ; for we believed our captives had been so unfairly, not to say inhumanly, treated at Washington, that we were unwilling to be indebted to authorities of that city for our emancipation. We went to Washington — deferring everything else to move in the matter ot prisoners — and did what we thought most effective for the end we had in view. Du- ring our sojourn there, we made it our special business to enquire into the causes of the detention of Union pris- OE, J08IE, THE HEBOINE OP FLOEENOE. 369 oners in the Sonth, although it was known they were being deliberately starved and frozen by the Rebels. We particularly endeavored to learn who were responsi- ble for the murder — for it was nothing else — of thousands of our brave soldiers ; and we did learn. There was but one answer to all our questions ; and that was, Edwin M. Stanton, Secretary of War. Although he knew the exact condition of affairs in the Rebel prisons, he always insisted that we could not afford to exchange captives with the South ; that it was not policy. Perhaps it was not ; but it was humanity, and possibly that is almost as good as policy in other eyes than Mr. Stanton' s. After our departure from Washington, such a storm was raised about the Secretary's ears — such a tremen- dous outside feeling was created — that he was compelled to make an exchange. Our prisoners might just as well have been released a year before they were, and if they had been, thousands of lives would have been saved to the Republic, not to speak of those near and dear ones who were materially and spiritually dependent upon them. Dreadful responsibility for some one ; and that some one, so far as I can learn, is the Secretary of War. I hope I may be in error, but I cannot believe 1 am. If I am right, Heaven forgive him ! for the people will not. The ghosts of the thousand needlessly sacrificed heroes will haunt him to his grave." It will thus be seen that the same horrors which I have depicted, as coming within my own observation, occurred wherever else the Union privates were confined, and it will be believed that my plain, unvarnished tale, has not been exaggerated or too highly colored. 47 370 SOUTHERN PEISONS ; One of the most celebrated rebel prison pens was at Macon, Ga., especially during the latter part of the war, when the insecurity of the other prisons near the sea or navigable rivers had compelled the Rebels to remove their captives into the interior. At Macon, Col. F. W. Swift, of my own regiment, and several other officers of the Seventeenth were confined, at a somewhat late time of the war, having been captured at the Wilderness. The prison pen at Macon was called "Camp Ogle thorpe," from the old Gov. Oglethorpe, of Georgia. It covered an area of a little more than two acres, was surrounded by a stockade fence about fifteen feet high, and on the summit were placed the usual platforms for the guards. A.t a distance of fifteen feet, within the stockade, was the dead line, running entirely around the interior. Here it consisted of an ordinary picket fence, about three and a half feet high, while in other prisons much less care was taken to point it out to the unfortunate captives within. The town is finely situated upon the Ocmulgee River, in the central part of the State, and has some 10,000 inhabitants. Since the war it has rapidly gained in population and prosperity. The same deeds of cruelty and barbarity were, to a certain degree, enacted there towards the Union officers, as disgraced other prisons in the South. The food was insufficient in quantity and wretched in quality ; there was little protection against the inclemency of the weather ; during the last four months of the war the prison was crowded with a vast host of those who had been sent thither from other prisons, and the same sickness, misery and death prevailed. The prisoners resorted to many devices for escape, and sometimes succeeded ; but very rarely. OB, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 371 Men were constantly murdered for approaching towards the dead line, even when from fifteen to thirty feet away. During the last year of the war, and nntil Sherman fairly commenced his famous march to the sea, the officers here were treated almost as bad as were the private soldiers. This, however, was unusual, and only continued for a few months during the latter part of the war. Macon, though, may well be set down as one of the worst prisons that our officers were confined in. At Savannah was another prison, called ' 'Camp David- son," which did not differ materially in its appearance and details from that at Macon. During the latter part of the war several thousand Union prisoners were usually confined there. As a rule, the treatment of the captives by the officers in command was kinder than that of the other prison commanders throughout the South. The men were provided with brick ovens to do their baking with, and received rations of flour and other nutritious food. During a great part of the time, too, the guards were Georgia soldiers who had seen actual service upon the field, and such men were always far more humane to those in their charge than were the "Home-Gruards," who were generally detailed to per- form this duty. The men, nevertheless, made several attempts to escape, sometimes by tunnelling, sometimes in other ways, but always in vain. When Sherman commenced his march from Atlanta, and it became evident that Savannah would become a place of danger, the prisoners were removed to other points, where they underwent far greater hardships than at Camp Davidson, and the latter was always remembered by its inmates as an oasis in the desert of prison life. Conspicuous upon the list of Rebel prisons stands 372 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; the pen known at the South as " Camp Lawton," near Millin, Georgia. The following is the testimony of Sergeant W, Good- year, Seventh Regiment Conn. Vol., who was removed to that place from Andersonville, on the 1st of JNov., 1864 : "It was situated about eighty miles north of Savan- nah, in a country where pine forests abound. Indeed, these were a prominent feature in the external surround- ings of many of the Southern prisons. Trees would be felled, a clearing made, and here located the rude structure that was to be the cheerless home of thousands for long weary months. Could a voice be given to these silent groves, and they become witnesses of what they have seen and heard, what revelations would be made of things that can never be known now ! The medium of human language fails to convey all the meaning involved in prison life in the South. The number of deaths averaged from twenty -five to thirty -five per day. The prevailing diseases were such as are common to almost all prisoners — the scurvy, diarrhcea and rheuma- tism. It was no uncommon occurrence for the morning light to reveal the pallid faces of three or four prisoners who had lain down side by side, showing that death had claimed them all during the night. Such sights were heart-rending to the most unfeeling— the most stoical. The prisoner is condemned to these things, and there is no alternative but for him to gaze upon them, however sad and revolting they may be. He must steel himself against that which once would have sent sympathy through his whole being— a gushing tide. It could not be that the fountain of pity be stirred to its depths so often. Nature could not sustain the pressure ; therefore it seems that the whole is something like a martyr pro- OR, JOSIE, THE HEBOIITE OF FLORENCE. 373 cess, in which, the very juices of life are crushed out by an uncontrollable force. At the time of my arrival there, the list of prisoners numbered nine thousand The weather was very cold and stormy ; and as the majority of the men were very poorly clad, many of them being without shoes, blankets or coats, and also without shelter ; the suffering was great, and beyond all description. So medicine was issued to the men within the stockade, and but very few were taken out- side to the hospital ; consequently the mortality was fearful.' 374 SOUTHEEN prisons; CHAPTER XXIX. THE TESTIMONY OF OTHER AUTHORS. Corroborative Evidence. — Junius Henri Browne's Description of Im- prisonment. — Testimony of Capt. W. W. Glazier. — Mrs. A. P, Hanaford and Lieut. Col. Cavada. — The Sanitary Commission's Report. — Experience of Ira E. Forbes. — Evidence of the Rebels Themselves. — Albert D. Richardson at Salisbury. — Report of the Committee of Inquiry. I pray, sir, deal with men in misery Like one that may himself be miserable ; Insult not too much upon my wretchedness ; The noble minds still will not, when they can. ""eywoocPa Royal Eimg. That the account of the prison life at the South may be complete, I now propose to adduce a quantity of the most valuable testimony tending to demonstrate that my representations of the matter have not in the slightest degree been colored or exaggerated. In the following chapter, the testimony of authors and others who pos- sessed peculiar information upon this subject is followed up and substantially closed. JUNIUS HENRI BROWNE. Mr. Browne again says: "If a man who has been a prisoner in the hands of the enemy for a long while could only preserve the remembrance of his sur- OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE, 375 roundings, as a criterion for the future, his restoration to freedom would be a return to paradise. But the truth is, the man changes with his situation. He glides so easily and readily into his normal status, that the abnormal seems at once insupportable. Therefore, the Filth Avenue, the Central Park, the Academy of Music, Beauty, Banquets, Diamonds, have no special charm. They are the things of course, the every-day garniture of civilized existence. But the retrospect of not many weeks makes us shudder, and wonder at what now appears an impossible philosophy. Walked I ever amid those pestilential scenes unmoved ? Stood I ever, calm and steady -voiced, beside all those suffering forms? Bore I ever those heavy burdens, physical and spiritual, so long, without fainting or perishing on the weary way ? We know not what we can endure, is as true as truth, and is no oftener considered than by the poor wretch whom the fortunes of war have consigned to a Southern prison. He finds, after months have passed, that he is still alive and sane, in spite of starvation, freezing, tyranny, and isolation, and believes himself of iron mold. The scene changes, and liberty and kind fortune dawn upon him. Then he looks behind, as the traveler .who has passed the brink of a precipice in the darkness, **and shudders while he thinks how narrow has been his escape ; how horrible would have been his death. A few months since, I would have relished the coarsest food, and deemed it delightful to dwell in the meanest hut, Now— so soon does man grow pampered in places of purple— the choicest viands tempt me all in vain, and I toss with restlessness upon the softest couch." Mr, Browne, in relating his experience of cell-life in 376 SOUTHERN prisons; Richmond, says : " How we paced the floor, to and fro ! How we wore smiles rather sardonic on our lips, and forced every day' s bitterness of feeling into our hearts ! How we grew skeptical of every one, even our nearest friends, and doubted if we had any ! How we scoffed at the "disinterested motives" of the great world, and vowed that such things as affection and sympathy did not exist outside of the poet's page. Shut out from every refining and humanizing influence, deprived of the sight of Beauty, of the sense of Fragrance, of the sound of Melody, we became cynical in spite of ourselves, and reached Schopenhauer's plane — hoping nothing, expect- ing nothing, caring for nothing. I am not much given to sentiment, but these dreary walls and hard floors, that rough fare and desolate cap tivity, suggested their opposite, and brought to mind soft couches and softer hands, sweet voices and cooling draughts, thoughts of the beautiful and memories of sympathy, that were a torment and a torture there. ' Sick and in prison, and ye visited me not.' I found a meaning in those simple words I had not before discov- ered, and felt in my inmost soul how dreadful an accusation that would be against a heart that had ever assumed to love. No Union captive ever received a single garment or blanket from the Rebels ; he was thrown into the prison to shift for himself as best he might. If he froze, they cared not ; if he perished, they had only one less Yankee to feed. They were as indif- ferent to the sufferings of the prisoners as they would have been to those of the Feejee Islanders ; and they made no pretense of sympathy or commiseration. The Southern citizens were treated quite as badly as the Yan- kees — even worse, sometimes, I thought — especially if OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 377 they were poor and friendless. Old men, with white hair and forms bent with years, were incarcerated there on charge of having given food to their sons, who had deserted from the army. Others were snatched from their homes on various accusations of disloyalty to the so-called Confederacy, and allowed to die there, untried and unknown. I have again and again seen Union captives come out of cells in Richmond, pallid and emaciated as con- sumptive corpses — mere ghosts of men — with mouldy clothes and mildewed hair, burning with fever, bent with rheumatism, wasted with dysentery, who had been de- tained in those dungeons with a fiendish malignity, until their wretched existence held by a single thread. At the Castle, too, I have often been surprised at the tenacity with which incarcerated \ictims clung to their frail tene- ments of clay, in the cells and dungeons that admitted hardly a ray of light ; too small for the inmates either to lie down or sit, or stand with ease. The air of those dens was pestiferous. They reeked with filth and vermin. They would have delighted the Doges in the days of Venetian crime and Venetian mys- tery. They would have closed forever the babbling lips of those who talk of our generous but erring brothers — our brave but wayward sisters of the South. Brave and generous people cannot be cruel, and cruelty was an unextinguishable element in the character of most of the prison authorities of Secessia. They were malevolent without pretext, and inhuman without passion — an an- omaly only to be explained by the enunciation of a truth I have long recognized, that ' Slavery is barbarous and makes barbarians.' Think of that death-life, month after month ! Think 378 SOtr-TH^eRN PRISONS ; of men of delicate organization, accnstomed to ease and luxury, of fine taste, and a passionate love of the Beau- tiful, without a word of sympathy or a whisper of hope, wearing their days out amid such scenes ! Not a pleas- ant sound, nor a sweet odor, nor a visi m of fairness ever reached them. They were buried as comj)letely as if they lay beneath the ruins of Pompeii or Herculaneum. They breathed mechanically, but were shut out from all that renders existence endurable. Every sense was shocked perpetually, and yet the heart, by a strange inconsistenc}'^, kept up its throbs, and preserved the physical being of thousands of wretched captives, who, no doubt, often prayed to die. Few persons can have any idea of a long imprisonment in the South. They usually regard it merely as an absence of freedom—as a deprivation of the pleasures and excitements of ordi- nary life. They do not take into consideration the scant and miserable rations that no one, unless he be half famished, can eat ; the necessity of going cold and hun- gry in the wet and wintry season • the constant torture from vermin, of which no care nor precaution will free you ; the total isolation, the supreme dreariness, the dreadful monotony, the perpetual turning inward of the mind upon itself, the self-devouring of the heart, week after week, month after month, and year after year, truly it is wonderful that any escaped alive." CAPT. W. W. GLAZIER. The following statement is made by Willard W. Gla- zier, Brevet Captain New York Vol. Cavalry, in his book entitled "The Capture, Prison Pen, and Escape." In speaking of his confinement at Charleston, he says : "A small portion of the present inmates of the jail- OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 379 yard were removed here from Andersonville ; and I have listened wdth pain and perfect horror to the his- tory of their past treatment. Future generations will stand aghast in view of the unheard of and pitiless deeds of men, steeped in infamy — their foul and bar- barous usage of our unfortunate soldiers. At Ander- sonville large numbers were crowded into a small space, where the ground was literally alive with vermin. So filthy and obnoxious, so infested with vermin, and so loathsome had this den of living death become, that it was indeed impossible for a person of good health to endure it long. During the heat of day, by watch- ing closely in the warm sand, you could perceive a constant motion among the particles ; so alive was it it with lice. On such ground as this, the men were closely crowded together without shelter, and with fare, which a Rebel surgeon himself declared, would produce disease among swine." Again says Glazier, in liis " Preface." "The following pages are offered to inquiring minds, with the hope that they may throw some light upon the inhuman treatment we received in Southern prisons. They do not pretend to give a complete history of prison life in the South — only a part. Others are contributing sketches for the dark picture, which at the best, can but poorly illustrate the fearful atrocities of our brutal keepers. The multiplied woes of the battle-field, the sufferings of the sick and wounded in hospitals which the Federal Government has established, might almost be considered the enjoyments of paradise, when com- pared with the heart-rending and prolonged agonies of captives in Rebel stockades. Indeed, we are even led to conclude, by the usage which we have received at the 380 SOTJTHERN PRISONS ; hands of our captors, that it was their deliberate inten- tion to maim, and thereby render us completely unfit for future service. They have seen us, with apparent satisfaction, become so much reduced in clothing as to have scarcely rags for a covering ; they have condemned us to hunger and thirst, pain and weariness, affliction and misery in every conceivable form, so that thousands of our unfortunate fellow beings have anxiously awaited the approach of the king of terrors, as the arrival of a welcome fiiend that had come to bring them a happy release." MRS. p. A. HANATORD. Mrs. P. A. Hanaford, a celebrated authoress, who has written a volume entitled, "-Field, Gunboat, Hospital and Prison," writes: "It is a matter of profoundest mystery to all, how our Southern brethren could ever be so cruel to their prisoners of war. But the testi- mony is too strong to be denied ; and from nameless "graves at the South, and graves at the North untimely filled, goes up to heaven the cry against the pitiless cruelty of Southern captors. The record of Rebel atrocities is dark and damning. There is no language but that of scripture to express the character of those who tortured their helpless prisoners unto death, fol- lowing them with merciless hatred, even unto the grave: they were truly earthly, sensual, devilish." LIEUTENANT COLONEL CAVADA. The following evidence of Confederate brutality is extracted from Lieut. Col. F. F. Cavada's "Libby Life : " "In the room under the one we occupj^, are confined a large number of Federal non-commissioned officers, and citizens captured in Marj^land and Pennsylvania during OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 381 the late invasion by General Lee' s Army. They are even more poorly fed than ourselves. Through a chink in the floor we pass them down crackers, and pieces of bread, whenever we can spare them from our own slen der store. It is pitiful to see these starving men strug- gling with their thin, lank hands, at the hole, to catch the bits we drop through to them. We often see them fight desperately over a morsel of bread, even beating and knocking one another down. I never look through that chink, but I can see below some anxious, wasted face, and a pair of sunken eyes, peering up in wistful supplication for a crust ! The Confederate authorities assert that they are doing all they can for us ! If una- voidable, this system of starvation would be frightful enough : if intentional, it is too revoltingly cruel to ever meet with its full punishment upon earth," SANITARY COMMISSION'S REPORT. Tlie Sanitary Commission's report concerning the Bufferings and privations of United States officers and soldiers, and a volume entitled, ' ' Atrocities of the Re- bellion," by a Southern Unionist, who barely escaped with his life, contain proof enough to blacken the pages of Southern history, so that no partial historian can ever bleach or whitewash it. To use the language of the author of the latter volume : "It may be said that the atrocities recorded in this book are isolated and ex- treme cases, and do not present a fair view of the mat- ter. Would that this were true ! But so far is this from being true, that the picture is altogether too faint. The loyal heart beats sadly over the record of these in- famous deeds, and remembers with pain the horrible sufierings that our brave men passed through. Indeed, 882 SOUTHERN prisons; the atrocities related are only specimens ; mere selec- tions from an immense mass of liedious deeds of bar- barism. Were tlie whole to be recorded, the mind would tire of, and recoil from the recital ; were the whole to be recorded, volumes would be required." IRA E. FORBES. Ira E. Forbes, of Connecticut, in his statement of what he saw and experienced while a prisoner in the hands of the Rebels during the spring, summer and autumn of 1864, as written for A. O. Abbott, author of the book entitled, "Prison Life in the South," says: " I have tried to give a truthful account of some of the cruelties and sufferings which our poor boys were called to endure in filthy, loathsome Southern prisons and hos- pitals. It seems to me there can be no reason for any one to make a false report of the miseries we suffered at the hands of our heartless captors, and brutal ]3rison keepers. To tell the truth of them is all that is needed to convince any reasonable man of their barbarities, and their fiendish attempt to deprive our soldiers, whom the fortunes of war had thrown into their power, of every comfort and enjoyment of life. None can fully realize the intense agony, the horrid suspense and wretchedness felt by these unfortunate men, but those who have had a like experience. Indeed, their sufferings were beyond all description. Brave men becajie gloomy and despondent. Light faded from the once brilliant, fiery eye ; the color disappeared from the manly countenance ; manhood seemed to forget itself — the entire man was speedily drifting towards a fearful ruin. Hope had nearly vanished. The mind was labor- ing under intense agony. To some the burden was too OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORENCE. 383 much, and they have never recovered from its baneful effects ; others have nearly recovered, but their scars will remain forever. Only a few could receive medical treatment, and that scarcely worth mentioning, while in every part of camp were as brave and loyal soldiers as any that had ever taken up arms in defense of freedom, suffering and dying in a manner that might have shocked even the rude sensibilities of an American savage." REBEL EVIDENCE. Col. B. Estvan, who served eighteen months as colonel of cavalry in the Confederate Armj^, gives the following account in relation to the treatment of Union prisoners during the early part of the war, in his work entitled, "War Pictures from the South." Notice the contrast as drawn by the Rebel author : " When the first prisoners taken from the enemy ar- rived after the battle of Bethel, a certain amount of pity prevailed amongst the authorities, but this, small as it was, soon disappeared after the murderous battle of Manassas, when they were brought in, in large numbers. The strictness with which they were guarded was nothing to the severity that now took place. The pris- oners were locked up by hundreds, without distinction of rank — officers and men huddled together in buildings formerly used as tobacco warehouses and factories, from three to four hundred in one room. Amongst others, the gallant Irishman, Colonel Corcoran. The foul air of the building was enough to poison the men ; but the authorities seemed to take pleasure in exercising bar- barous severity, and stuck to that principle. As, under a broiling sun, each of the buildings alluded to was the 384 SOUTHERN PEISONS; compulsory residence day and night of four hundred men, it may easily be supposed that on entering it from the open air, the stench was overpowering. To get a breath of fresh air, the prisoners had to lean against the windows, where they were stared at, and often hooted by the crowd below. The feeling of humanity sank daily lower at Kichmond ; and brutality increased so much, that at last it even reached the better classes. Pity vanished altogether ; even women, who usually are so ready to give a helping hand to a suffering fellow creature, without inquiring who he is, became hard hearted. Colonel Corcoran put up with this undignified treatment and the insults of the mob with the greatest courage. He was ultimately sent to Columbia, in South Carolina, where he at least found human beings, and where he was allowed to breathe fresh air without being stared at by a crowd. How did the officers and soldiers of the United States treat their prisoners ? When, in February, the greater portion of Wise' s Legion were made prisoners on Roan- oke Island, General Burnside and his officers treated them with respect and attention. The officers of the Confederate army were allowed to go free on parole. Both officers and men of Burnside' s Army showed them many acts of civility, and gave them gold for their Con- federate paper money, of little value there. In a few days General Burnside liberated all the prisoners, on their giving their word of honor not to serve until an exchange had taken place. If either of the two Govern- ments had a right to treat the prisoners as enemies, surely it was the United States Government, as the Southerners were the originators of this disastrous war. We were the rebellious sons of a worthy mother. She OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOIWE OF FLOEENCE. 385 was not the cause of the war ; it was we who had ap- plied the torch, and set fire to our once qniet and peace- ful home. Our men, when taken prisoners, were usually treated, not like convicts, but as misguided children. But the Confederate Government, which had already despoiled the Union of so many things, now wished even to deprive its adherents of the ordinary rights ol humanity and respect. It is true, that many of our officers felt the injustice of the treatment inflicted upon the prisoners, but what could they do? Orders came from headquarters, and they were bound to obey them, for the first duty of a soldier is obedience." A. D. RICHARDSON. Mr. Richardson, in his work entitled, "The Field, the Dungeon and the Escape," says : "Early in October, the condition of the Salisbury Garrison suddenly changed. Nearly ten thousand pris- oners of war, half naked and without shelter, were crowded into its narrow limits, which could not reason- ably accommodate more than six hundred. It was con- verted into a scene of sufiering and death which no pen can adequately describe. For every hour, day and night, we were surrounded by horrors which burned into our memories like a hot iron. We had never before been in a prison containing our private soldiers. In spite of many assurances to the contrary, we had been skeptical as to the barbarities which they were said to sufier at Belle Isle and Ander- sonville. We could not believe that men bearing the American name would be guilty of such atrocities. Now, looking calmly upon our last two months in Sal- isbury, it seems hardly possible to exaggerate the incred- 49 386 SOUTHERN prisons; ible cruelties of the Rebel authorities. When captured, the prisoners were robbed of the greater part of their clothing. When they reached Salisbury, all were thinly clad, thousands were barefooted, not one in twenty had an overcoat or blanket, and many hundreds were with- out coats or blouses. About one-half of the prisoners were furnished with shelter. The rest burrowed in the earth, crept under buildings, or dragged out the nights in the open air, upon muddy, snowy, or frozen ground. In October, November and December, snow fell several times. It was piteous to see the poor fellows, coatless, hatless and shoeless, shivering about the yard. Sick- ness was very prevalent and very fatal. It invariably appeared in the form of pneumonia, catarrh, diarrhoea, or dysentery, but was directly traceable to freezing and starvation. Therefore the medicines were of little avail. The weakened men were powerless to resist disease, and they were carried to the dead-house in appalling num- bers. The list of the dead, as taken from my own record, is astonishing. It comprises over fourteen hundred prisoners deceased within sixty days, and shows that the prisoners died at the rate of thirteen per cent, a month on the entire number — a rate of mortality which would depopulate any city in the world in forty-eight hours, and send the people flying in all directions, as from a pestilence. Yet, when those prisoners came there they were young and vigorous, like our soldiers generally in the field. There was not a sick or wounded man among them. It was a fearful revelation of the work which cold and starvation had done. On wet days the mud was very deep in camp, and OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOEENCE. 387 the shoeless wretches wallowed pitifully through it, seeking vainly for cover and warmth. Two hundred negro prisoners were almost naked, and could find no shelter whatever, except by burrowing in the earth. The authorities treated them with unusual rigor, and guards murdered them with impunity. No song, no athletic game, few sounds of laughter broke the silence of the garrison. It was a Hall of Eblis — devoid of its gold — besprinkled pavements, crystal vases, livid lips, sunken eyes, and ghastly figures, at whose hearts the consuming fire was never quenched. Indeed, the wasted forms and sad, pleading eyes of those sufferers, waiting wearily for the tide of life to ebb away — without the commonest comforts, without one word of sympathy, or one tear of aflfection — will never cease to haunt me. The last scene of all was, the dead-cart, with its rigid forms piled upon each other like logs — the arms swaying, the white, ghastly faces staring, with dropped jaws and stony eyes— while it rattled along, bearing its precious freight just outside the walls, to be thrown in a mass into trenches and covered with a little earth." COMMITTEE OF INQUIRY. This piece of evidence is taken from the report of a committee of inquiry, appointed by the U. S. Sanitary Commission, in 1864, to investigate the subject of the treatment of Union prisoners by the Rebel authorities, and the following summary expresses substantially the views of the commission, whose names, it will be seen, are appended : " There is only one conclusion that every one must come to who carefully weighs the testimony. Every 388 SOUTHEEIir PKISOIfS ; doubt and misgiving successively disappears. No other theory will cover the immensity and variety of that system of abuse to which our soldiers were sub- jected. That abuse was, in all its forms, too general, too uniform, and too simultaneous to be otherwise than the result of a great arrangement. One prison-station was like another — one hospital resembled another hospital. This has been made especially apparent by intelligence that has reached the public since the close of the war. It is the same story everywhere — prisoners of war- treated worse than convicts, shut up either in suffocat- ing buildings, or in outdoor enclosures, without even the shelter that is provided for the beasts of the field ; uns applied with sufficient food ; supplied with food and water injurious and even poisonous ; compelled to live in such personal uncleanliness as to generate vermin ; compelled to sleep on floors often covered with human filth, or on ground saturated with it ; compelled to breathe an air oppressed with an intolerable stench ; hemmed in by a fatal dead-line, and in hourly danger of being shot by unrestrained and brutal guards ; des- pondent even to madness, idiocy and suicide ; sick of diseases (so congruous in character as to appear and spread like the plague), caused by the torrid sun, by decaying food, by filth, by vermin, by malaria, and by cold ; removed at the last moment, and by hundreds at a time, to hospitals corrupt as a sepulchre, there, with few remedies, little care and no spmpathy, to die in wretchedness and despair, not only among strangers, but among enemies too resentful to have pity or to show mercy. These are positive facts. Tens of thousands of help- OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOIlSrE OF ELOEE]S"CE. 389 less men have been disabled and destroyed by a process as certain as poison, and as cruel as the torture or burn- ing at the stake, because nearly as agonizing and more prolonged. This spectacle was daily beheld and allowed by the Rebel Government. The conclusion is unavoidable, therefore, that "these privations and sufferings" have been "designedly inflicted by the military and other authority of the Rebel Government," and could not have been " due to causes which such authorities could not control." It is a painful duty for me to narrate facts so unworthy of any people, especially of one heretofore so highly respected, so much admired, and in so many respects a credit to the American name. That name is shamed and dishonored by their exposure. Yet, in the face of all this, the Confederate Congress, with the approval of the Confederate President, issued, on the 14th of June, 1864, a manifesto, of which the fol- lowing is the concluding declaration : " We commit our cause to the enlightened Judgment of the worlds to the sober refections of our adversaries themselves, and to the solemn and righteous arMtra- ment of heaven.''^ Can this appeal to both Divine and human judgment, be really sincere, or is it only a rounded and rhetorical termination of a state paper ? is the Rebel Government really so unconscious of that barbarous warfare, that it confidently expects the respect and sympathy of the civilized world ? Was it really so unconscious of vin- dictive cruelty, that it confidently expected a revulsion in its favor from a community whose fathers and bro- thers and sons lie piled by thousands in pits and 390 SOUTHERN PRISONS ' trenches, not on the battle-field, but in the neighborhood of prisons and hospitals ? Is it really so unconscious of crime that it claims even the favorable judgment of Him, unto whom all hearts are open, from whom no secrets are hid, and who requires of man to deal justly and to love mercy 1 Is it really anxious to stand before that bar, whose final discrimination between good and evil, it has been revealed, shall rest upon the single fact of humanity or inhumanity : whether the passions of anger and hate have been controlled, whether enemies have been forgiven, whether privation and suffering have been relieved ? In view of the powerless captive, hungry, naked, sick and wounded, does it really await "the solemn and righteous arbitrament " of Him, to-day, who will, hereafter, say to the cruel and unmerciful : " I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat : I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink : I was a stranger, and ye took me not in : naked, and ye clothed me not : sick and in prison, and ye visited me not?" Let the Southern conscience listen ! Let it remember that the judgment of heaven is on the side of humanity, and against cruelty and oppression, that a wrong done to man is a wrong done to God, who will make the cause of the suffering His own, and wiU avenge Himself on His enemies. " Verily, verily, I say unto you. Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me !" V. MOTT, EDWARD DEL A FIELD, GOUV. MOR. WILKINS, ELLERSLIE WALLACE, J. L CLARK HARE, TREADWELL WALDEN OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF ELOKENCE. 391 CHAPTER XXX. - THE REBEL PLOT. The Argument of Benson J. Lossing. — The Views of Senator Howard of Michigan. I know thy loyal heart and prudent head ; Upon whose hairs time's child, experience, hang, A milk-white badge of wisdom ; and canst wield Thy tongue in senate and thy hands in field. Tru6 Trojans. Upon this subject of the dire plot of the Rebels to torture and destroy their Union prisoners, the argument of the historian, Benson J. Lossing, is so conclusive and unanswerable, that we present the substance of his views ; also, the opinion of Senator Howard, of Michi- gan, as quoted by Mr. Lossing : " In the downfall of the Confederacy, the ,'prisoners were all set free, and the captive insurgents, who had been generously treated, comfortably housed, and abundantly fed, at all times and in all places, while in the custody of the national authorities, were sent to their homes at the expense of their ever kind Govern- ment. Gladly would the writer testify to like generous treatment, comfortable shelter, and wholesome and abundant food, accorded to the Union prisoners by the Confederate authorities. Alas ! the truth revealed by ten thousand sufferers, and the admissions of the Con- 392 80TJTHEEN PRISOTfS ; federates themselves, compel a widely different record — a record which presents one of the darkest chapters in the history of human iniquity. Gladly would he omit the record, for it relates to the wickedness of some of his countrymen, but duty and honor require him, in making a chronicle of the Rebellion and civil war, to tell the whole truth, and conceal nothing, so that posterity may be able to form a correct judgment of that Rebellion and civil war. Unimpeached and unimpeachable testi- mony shows, that in refusing to acknowledge the caj)tive negro soldiers, and the officers who led them, to be pro- per subjects for exchange, and other acts which they well knew that, though the high sense of honor and justice which always guided the Government, would lead to a cessation of exchange, was only a part of a plan of the conspirators, deliberately formed, for mur- dering or permanently disabling by the slow process of physical exhaustion, the Union captives in their hands. This is a grave charge, and should not be made against any man or body of men, without a firm conviction of its truth, and the most conclusive proof. With such conviction, and satisfied that such proof is not only con- clusive, but abundant, the charge is here made, and put on record, that the world may know somewhat of the character of the men who conceived, planned, and car- ried on a Rebellion against a beneficient Government, without any other excuse than that of the sorely- tempted sinner — the overpowering influence of that depravity which the slave system generated by allowing an unbridled exercise of the baser passions of human nature — a depravity which culminated after a career of two hundred years, or more, in what Blackstone, declares to be the sum of all wickedness denounced in the Deca- OE, JOSIE THE HEEOrN^E OF FLOEENCE. 393 togne, namely: Treason. Proofs from ten thousand tongues certify and justify the conclusions of a National Senator (Howard), who, while holding in his hand the report of a committee appointed by the United States Sanitary Commission, in May, 1864, said, after speaking of the barbarities at Andersonville : " The testimony is as clear as the noonday sun, that these barbarities were deliberately practiced upon our men for the double purpose of torture and death by starvation, and to freezing and starving united, operating minute by minute, hour by hoar, day by day, week by week, and month by month, until the man became a living skeleton and idiot, no longer of any value either to himself or to his country ; and this for the purpose of weakening our military arm, and deterring our people from prosecuting the war." For obvious reasons, the revolting details of the cruelties practiced upon the Union prisoners at Rich- mond, Andersonville, Danville, Salisbury, Florence, Millen, Charleston, and other places, and the result of those cruelties, are not put upon record here. General statements are considered quite sufficient for the purpose already avowed ; and the reader may consult, for a knowledge of those details, the report of the Sanitary Commission ; the statements of scores of victims ; the testimony elicited by the committee on the conduct of the war ; and the testimony on the trial of Captain Wirz, From the beginning of the war, the charge and dis- position of the Union prisoners were committed to John H. Winder, formerly of the National army, whose acquaintance we have already made. He appears to have been, according to the testimony of friend and foe, an exceedingly bad man ; cruel in his nature ; repulsive 50 394 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; in features ; rude in manners, and foul and profane in speech. While a cadet at West Point, he engaged in a conspiracy, and was saved from punishment by an adroit construction of law, by John C. Calhoun, then Secretary of War. He was an inciter of the mob at Baltimore, who attempted to prevent Massachusetts troops passing through that city to Washington, in April, 1861. Then he went to Richmond, and was appointed a Brigadier-general in the insurgent army, but never had command in the field. The arch-conspirator, Davis, who knew his character well, made him Chief Commissary of Prisoners, and kept him in that office until his death in Georgia, February 8, 1865, in spite of the remonstrances of officials above and below him, and the frequent exposure of the infamy of his deeds. "He was supplied with rank," says Mr, Spencer, "without a command, from his peculiar fitness for the work to be required of him." It is well known that he did not dis- appoint his master in the execution of the duties assigned to him ; and it is doubtful if, within the limits of the so-called Confederacy, another man could be found so well fitted for the perfonnance of the mission to wliich he was destined. Winder's chief executive officer in the exercise of cruelty toward the captives in Richmond, and especially in Libby Prison, was Major Turner ; and Captain Henry Wirtz, who was hanged for his crimes, at the national capital, was his most trusted and efficient lieutenant at Andersonville. His coadjutor in the work of destroying prisoners seems to have been " Commissary- General " L. B. Northrup, that special favorite of Jefferson Davis, and whom one of the Con- federate Congressmen (Henry S, Foote), published as a "monster of iniquity." The writer was told by an OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLORENCE. 395 officer of the Confederate Commissary Department, wlio knew Northrup well, long before the war, that he invented a method, after many experiments, that would surely effect the utter prostration of prisoners, while there should not seem to be actual starvation. It was the giving to each prisoner, for a day' s sustenance, six ounces of flour, two ounces of bacon, one gill of molas- ses, and a pint of cow-peas : a composition calculated to disorder the bowels, and produce marasmus and death; "Print this," said the indignant officer, when he gave the writer an account of it, and give my name as authority, if you like." Such were the instruments employed by Jefferson Davis, in the case of Union prisoners. Jones, in his Rebel War Clerk's Diary, fre- quently shows his detestation of Winder ; and even the Richmond Examiner exclaimed, when, at the age of seventy years, Davis's commissary of prisoners went to Andersonville, because there was a wider field for his awful vocation, "thank God that Richmond is at last rid of old Winder : God have mercy upon those to whom he has been sent. ' ' Everywhere the Union prisoners were closely crowded in ill- ventilated and unwholesome places. Libby Prison contained six rooms, each one hundred feet in length and forty in breadth. At one time, these held twelve hundred Union officers of every grade, from a lieutenant to a brigadier-general. They were allowed no other place in which to cook, eat, wash and dry their clothes and their persons, sleep, and take exercise. Ten feet by two was all that might be claimed for each man. They were usually despoiled of theii- money, watches, and sometimes portions of their cloth- ing, before entering, with promises, rarely fulfilled, of a At one time, they 896 SOTTTHEEN PEISOITS ; were not allowed a seat of any kind to sit npon. The floors of rough boards were always washed in the after- noon, so that at night they were damp. On these, some without any thing under them, the prisoners were com- pelled to sleep, and many thereby took cold, which ended in consumption and death. The windows were numerous, and most of the glasses were broken, in con- sequence of which they suffered intensely from cold. The captives were subjected to the caprices of Turner, who, among other cruelties, ordered that no one should go within three feet of the windows, a rule that seems to have been adopted in other prisons in the SoMth. A violation of the rule gave license to the guard to shoot the offending prisoner. It was enforced with the great- est cruelty. Sometimes, by accident, or unconsciously in his sufferings, an officer would go by a window, and be instantly shot at, without warning. The brutal guards took pleasure in the sport of "shooting Yan- kees,"' and eagerly watched for opportunities to indulge in it. " But there were cruelties worse than these," said the report of the committee, "because less the result of impulse and recklessness, and because deliberately done." It was the starvation of the prisoners, by a systematic diminution in the quantity, and deterioration of the quality of their daily allowance with which they were supplied, the character of which may be under- stood by the remark of a young officer: "I would gladly have preferred the horse-feed in my father's stable." The process of the slow starvation of the captives began in the autumn of 1863, and was so gen- eral and uniform in the prisons and prisoner-pens, that there can be no doubt of its having been done by direct orders from the conspirators of Richmond. " The com OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 397 bread," says the report, "began to be of the roughest description ; portions of the cob and husk were often found ground in with the meal. The crust was so thick and hard, that the prisoners called it iron-clad. To render the bread eatable, they grated it, and made mush of it ; but the crust they could not grate. Now and then, after long intervals, often of many weeks, a little meat was given them, perhaps two or three mouth- fuls. At a later period, they received a pint of black peas, with some vinegar, every week. The peas were often full of worms, or maggots, in a chrysalis state, which, when they made soup, floated on the surface." And this was done ^\'hen there was abundance of food at the command of their jailors. For a while, the prisoners were allowed to receive boxes of food and clothing, sent by their friends in the North, and by the Sanitary Commission, but it was found that this privi- lege would defeat the starvation scheme of the conspira- tors, and in January, 1864, it was denied, without any reason being given. "Three hundred boxes," says the report, "arrived every week, and were received by Colo- nel Ould Commissioner of Exchange ; but instead of being distributed, were retained, and piled up in a warehouse near hy.'' The contents of many of these boxes were used by the Confederates. " The officers," says the report, "were permitted to send out and buy articles at extravagant prices, and would find the clothes, stationery, hams, and butter, which they had purchased, bearing the marks of the Sanitary Commission^ ' Over three thousand boxes, sent to captives in Libby Prison, and on Belle Isle, in the James River, near, were stored close by the former building, where the writer saw a large portion of them, immediately after the evacuation 398 souTHEBN prisons; of Richmond. In the few indications here given of the condition of the Union captives in Libby Prison, we have a glimpse, only, of the horrors of the "starving time," in the history of such captives, in all parts of the country nnder the rule of the conspirators. The finishing touch in the ghastly picture of the iniquity of those conspii'ators is given in the fact that they pre- pared to blow up Libby Prison, with its starving inmates, with gunpowder, rather than to allow them to regain their liberty. To the testimony concerning that premeditated act, may be added that Turner, the com- mandant of the prison, who said, in answer to the ques- tion of a captive officer, "Was the prison mined?" " Yes, and I would have blown you all to Hades before I would have suffered you to be rescued." A remark of Bishop Johns was corroborative as well as curious, in reply to the question, "Whether it was a Christian mode of warfare to blow up defenceless prisoners ?" The Bishop replied, "I suppose the authorities are satisfied on that point, though 1 do not mean to justify it." The sufferings of the captives on Belle Isle, dur- ing the " starving time," were much greater than of those in Libby Prison, for the latter were under shelter. Belle Isle was a small island of a few acres, in the James River, in front of Richmond, near the Tredegar Iron Works. A part of it was a grassy bluff, covered with trees, and a part was a low, sandy barren, a few feet above the surface of the river, which there flows swiftly. There was a bridge across the James, over which the captives passed on their way to Belle Isle, which became truly a "Bridge of Sighs." Over the Richmond entrance to it might have been appropriately placed, the inscription which Dante saw over the gate OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 399 of Hell: "He who enters here leaves hope behind." For the captives, the cool, green grass that carpeted the hill on Belle Isle, and the shade of the trees that adorned it, had no blessings, for the prisoners were con- fined to the low and treeless sand-barren, and were never allowed, in the hottest weather, to leave it and go to the cooler spot, a. few rods off, that appeared so much like heaven, in comparison with the hell in which they were compelled to suffer. That barren spot, not to exceed five acres in extent, was surrounded by earth- works about three feet in height, with a ditch on both sides. Along the outer ditch, guards were stationed about forty feet apart, and kept watch night and day. The prisoners were without shelter. At first there were a few ragged sibley tents, but these soon disappeared. Notwithstanding this, an established station for prison- ers was in a country of forests, the lumber plentiful, not a movement was made, from the beginning, to erect barracks, or to make any humane provision for the com- fort of those confined there. Quickly would the hun- dreds of mechanics sent there have constructed comfortable shelter for all, from the scorching sun and biting frost, but they were not allowed to have the raw material for the purpose. At one time there were no less than eleven thousand captives on that bleak space of five acres — " so crowded, according to the estimated area given then," says the report, "there could not have been but the space of two feet by seven given them, and, at the most, three feet by nine, per man. Stripped of blankets and overcoats, hatless often, shoe- less often, in ragged coats and rotting shirts, they were obliged to take the weather as it came. The winter came — and one of the hardest winters ever experienced 400 SOUTHEEN PRISON'S ; in the Sonth — but still no shelter was provided. The mercury was down to zero, at Memphis, which is further south than Richmond. The snow lay deep on the ground around Richmond. The ice formed on the James, and flowed in masses upon the rapids, on either side of the island. Water, left in buckets on the island, froze two or three inches deep in a single night. The men resorted to every expedient to keep from perishing. They lay in the ditch, as the most protected place, heaped upon one another, and lying close together, as one of them expressed it, ' Like hogs in winter,' taking turns as to who should have the outside of the row. In the morning, the row of the previous night was marked by the motionless forms of those who were sleeping on in their last sleep — frozen to death !" And while thus exposed to the frost, the prisoners were starving, and the only defender of exposed men from the severity of the cold, namely ; wholesome and abundant food, was denied them. 'The cold froze them," says the report, ''because they were hungry, — the hunger consumed them because they were cold. These two vultures fed upon their vitals, and no one in the Southern Confederacy had the mercy or the pity to drive them away." And while hundreds of our women were administering comforts to the sick r.nd wounded insurgents in Northern prisons and hospitals, not one woman was ever seen upon Belle Isle while the Union captives were there. Many methods of cruelty to aggravate the sufferings of the prisoners on Belle Isle were resorted to. Unnecessary restrictions ; brutal treatment of slight and oftentimes unconscious offend- ers ; deprivation of the use of the running water, for bathing, in the summer, and scores of other operations OR, JOSIE, THE HEROIJfE OF FLORENCE. 401 calculated to crush the life out of the poor men. The sick were tardily taken to hospitals, there neglected and prematurely returned ; and every precaution seems to have been taken to secure a daily diminution of the strength of the victims. As at Libby, so on Belle Isle, food and clothing sent to captives by friends, were with- held, and often appropriated by the Confederates. "As the weary months drew on, hunger told its inevitable tale on them all. They grew weak and emaciated. Many found that they could not walk; when they attempted it a dizziness and a blindness came, and they fell to the ground. Diarrhoea, scurvy, congestion of the lungs, and low fevers set in. And what was done in prison and hospital .to our private soldiers on Belle Isle, and to our officers in Libby, was done nearly all over the South. The very railroads can speak of inhu- man transportations from one point to another of the sick, the wounded, and the unwounded together, crowded into cattle and baggage cars, lying and dying in the filth of sickness, and the blood of undressed wounds." But we will consider the revolting picture of atrocities at Libby Prison and Belle Isle no longer. It remains for us only to briefly notice Andersonville Prison, the most extensive, as it was the most infamous of all the prison pens into which Union captives were gathered. It was an unhealthy locality, on the side of a red -clay hill, near Anderson Station, on the South- western Railroad, in Georgia, about sixty miles south from Macon, and surrounded by the richest of the cot- ton and corn-growing regions of that Sta-te. This site was selected, it is said, at the suggestion of Howell Cobb, the commander of the district, by Captain W. S. Winder, son of the Confederate commissary of prison- 51 402 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; ers. It comprised twenty-seven acres of land, with a swamp in its centre. A choked and sluggish stream flowing ont of another swamp, crawled through it, while within rifle-shot distance from it flowed a large brook fifteen feet wide and three feet deep, of pure, delicious water. Had this been inclosed within the pen, the pris- oners might have drank and bathed as much as they pleased. As that would have endangered the success of the murderous scheme of the conspirators, it was not included. Another comfort was denied. The spot se- lected for the pen was covered with pine trees, which would have made a grateful shade for the captives. Winder gave orders for them to be cut down. When a spectator ventured to suggest that the shade would alleviate the sufierings of the captives, that officer, act- ing under higher authority, replied : " That is just what I am not going to do ! I will make a pen here for the damned Yankees, where they will rot faster than they can be sent." Howell Cobb issued orders for six hun- dred negroes to be impressed for the purpose of con- structing a stockade around the designated inclosure. It received its first prisoners (soldiers of the New Hamp- shire, Connecticut, New Jersey and Michigan infantry) eight hundred in number, on the 15th of February, 1864, when batteries were planted at four points, bear- ing on the inclosure, and a heavy guard was establish- ed, numbering at one time three thousand six hundred men. The pen was a quadrangle, with two rows of stockades, from twelve to eighteen feet in height, and seventeen feet from the inner stockade was the "dead- line," over which no man could pass and live. Raised above the stockade were fifty-two sentry boxes, in each of which was a guardsman, perpetually— ready and eager OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOEENCE. 403 to "kill a Yankee" whenever the infraction of a rule would permit. The perpetrators of such murders were generally rewarded by the Winders with a furlough. The fiendish intentions of these men were carried out as far as possible, and the atrocities committed in the great prison-pen there established were awful in the extreme. It is difficult to write with calmness, with the terrible testimony in full volume before us. The details are too shocking even to make it proper to present an abstract laere. Suffice it to say, that Winder, with his son, ne- phew, Wirtz, and others, performed their horrid task, with full license to do as they pleased, with alacrity and awful effect. At one time more than thirty thous- and human beings— the fathers, husbands, brothers, sons, of anxious, waiting, watching women in desolate homes hundreds of miles away, were confined on that eighteen acres of land, reeking with generators of disease and death ; sometimes parched with the sun, at others flooded with filthy water ; exposed to frost and heat ; to the bullets of brutal guards, used in wanton sport ; beaten, bruised and cursed ; driven to madness and idiocy ; starved into skeletons ; and, worse than all, tortured by the false declaration, made only to lacerate, that their Government had forsaken them, thus leaving them no other hope for relief from misery than death. To nearly thirteen thousand suff'erers that everlasting relief came. The graves of twelve thousand nine hun- dred and twenty of the victims tell the dreadful tale. Of these only about four hundred and fifty are un- known. It was pleaded, in extenuation, that the Con- federates had not the means for feeding the Union pris- oners, and that the lack of food for them was caused by its great scarcity. The committee of the Sanitary 404 SOHTHERN PRISONS; Commission say that, after collecting all testimony pos- sible to be obtained, "it appears that the Southern army has been, ever since its organization, completely equipped in all necessary respects, and that the men have been supplied with everything which would keep them in the best condition of mind and body, for the hard and desperate service in which they were engaged. They knew nothing of famine and freezing. Their wounded and sick were never neglected. So do the few details of fact that could be extracted without suspi- cion of their object, from the soldiers of the Southern army, confirm the reasoning which accounts for its effi- ciency. The conclusion is inevitable. It was in their power to feed sufficiently, and to clothe, whenever necessary, their prisoners of war. They were perfectly able to include them in the military establishments, but they chose to exclude them from the position always assigned to such, and in no respect to treat them like men taken in honorable warfare. Their commonest soldier was never compelled, by hunger, to eat the dis- gusting rations furnished at the Libby to United States officers. Their most exposed encampment, however temporary, never beheld the scenes of suffering which occurred daily and nightly among United States sol- diers in the encampment on Belle Isle. The excuse and explanation are swept away. There is nothing now between the Northern people and the dreadful reality." It was pleaded that the conspirators and military officers nearest to them were ignorant of the cruelties inflicted by these subordinates. And General Robert E.Lee — " a greatly over-rated military leader — a man of routine, cold, undemonstrative, ambitious, the pet of on, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREISTCE. 405 the Virginians because he was a member of one of their 'first families,' without the moral courage to take the responsibility — so popular with the army that he might have ended the war any time after the capture of "At- lanta," as one of the most successful of the Confeder- ate military leaders said to the writer, — " Robert E. Lee, the commander of the army of Northern Virginia, never a hundred miles from Richmond after the autumn of 1863, and in constant personal communication with that city, the place of his family residence, actually de- clared before the Joint Committee on Reconstruction, that he was not aware of any bad treatment suffered by Union prisoners — was not aware that any of them died of cold and starvation— that no report was ever made to him of the sad condition of Union prisoners any- where — that he never knew who was in command at Andersonville, Salisbury, or other prison-pens, until after the war ; and that he ' knew nothing in the world' of the alleged cruelties about which complaints had been made." If General Lee spoke truly, he exhibited one of the most remarkable cases on record of ignorance of facts which it was his business to know as commander of a department, in which it was charged that these atrocities had been committed. He might have known, what the records of the Confederate "Government" now in Wash- ington city show, that so early as September, 1862, the fact of cruelties towards Union prisoners was so well known to all the world that the conspirators felt the necessity of official action, and that Augustus R. Wright, chairman of a committee of the "House of Represen- tatives," made a report on the prisons at Richmond confining Union captives, to George W. Randolph, then 406 SOUTHERN prisons; " Secretary of War," in which report it was said that the state of things was "terrible beyond description ;" that "the committee could not stay in the room over a few seconds;" that a change must be made, and that "the committee make the report to the Secretary of War, and not to the House, because in the latter case it would be printed, and for the honor of the nation, such things must be kept secret." He might have known that, on the ninth of December, 1863, Henry S. Foote offered a resolution in the Confederate "House of Ee- presentatives," for the appointment of a committee of inquiry concerning the alleged ill-treatment of Union prisoners, and that in the course of his remarks, he admitted the charges to be true, by saying, alluding to Commissary-General Northrup : "This man has placed our Government in the attitude charged by the enemy, and has attempted to starve the prisoners in our hands !" Foote then read testimony which, he said, was on record in Quid's office, to prove that the charge was true ; and he declared that Northrup had actually said, in an elaborate report to the Secretary of War, that "for the subsistence of a human Yankee carcass, a vegetable diet was the most proper that could be adopted." Foote' s humane resolution, however, was voted down, and no investigation was allowed at that time. In the spring of 1865 a committee published a report, in which they admitted the mining of Libby Prison, and, by implication, the charges of cruelty and starvation, but tried to give excuses for the deeds. Foote, in a letter written from Montreal, after the appearance of that report, commented upon it severely, and declared that a "Government officer of respectability" told him "that a systematic scheme was on foot for subjecting OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOREN^CE. 407 these unfortunate men to starvation.' He further de- clared that Northrup's fiendish proposition was "en- dorsed by Seddon, the Secretary of War," who said, substantially, in that endorsement, that "the time had arrived for retaliation upon the prisoners of war of the enemy." In that letter Foote proved (1) That the starving of Union prisoners was known to the Confed- erate authorities ; (2) That the Rebel Commissary Gen- eral proposed it ; (3) That the Rebel Secretary of War approved and endorsed it ; (4) That Robert Ould, Rebel Commissioner of Exchange, knew it ; and (5) That the Rebel House of Representatives knew of it, and en- deavored to prevent an investigation. Foote said the proofs were in the "War Department, which was after- wards burned. Still General Lee knew nothing about it. Lee might have remembered that a committee of the Christian Commission, in 1864, appeared before his lines, and sought access to the prisoners in Richmond and on Belle Isle, to afford them relief, with the under- standing that a similiar commission would be allowed to go to the prisons of Confederate captives, and that they were not allowed to pass, because the authorities at Richmond dared not let the outside world know, from competent witnesses, the horrible truths such a visit would have discovered. He might have read, all through the year 1864, in the Northern papers, which he received almost daily, the grave charges concerning the treatment of prisoners at Richmond, and also the report of the Committee of the United States Sanitary Commission, published seven months before the end of the war. And any day, while visiting his family in his elegant brick mansion on Franklin Street, he might have stepped out upon its upper gallery on the south. 408 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; and with his field-glass, looked into the ghastly faces of the starved, blistered, freezing captives on Belle Isle ; or he might have walked down Gary Street for the space of eight minutes, and looked into Libby Prison, to satisfy himself whether a committee of the " Confed- erate Congress " had told the truth or not. He seems not to have considered such inquiries proper to be im- posed upon him as a department commander, as gen- eral-in -chief, as a man, or as a Christian. His remark- able ignorance concerning the matter, was equaled only by the treachery of his memory, which did not allow him to recollect whether he ever took an oath of alle- giance to the " Southern Confederacy." What General Lee was so ignorant of, the Confederate authorities and everybody else were familiar with, as ample testimony shows. When the starvation plan had accomplished its work, and in all the Confederate prisons the Union captives were generally no better for service than dead men — an army of forty thousand skeletons — Ould, the Rebel Commissioner, proposed to General Butler a re- sumption of an exchange, man for man, August 10, 1864. The conspirators knew how well their men had been fed in Northern prisons, and how strong and effec- tive they were for service, and they were now willing and anxious, in order to secure the advantages which their cruelty for a year had given them, to have their hale soldiers back. That such was the relative condi- tion of the respective prisoners — Union skeletons and Confederate men in full vigor — Ould exultingly declared in a letter to General Winder, from City Point, where exchange had been resumed, in which he said : "The arrangement I have made works largely in our favor. We get rid of a set of miserable wretches, and receive OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOI]S"E OF FLORENCE. 409 some of the best material I ever saw." On account of this state of things General Grant hesitated to resume exchange. Finally, at the middle of autumn, arrange- ments for special exchanges were made, and Lieutenant Colonel Mulford went with vessels to Savannah, aftei- about 12,000 Union prisoners from Andersonville and elsewhere. They were brought to Annapolis, Maryland, and in them the writer saw the horrible workings of the barbarity of the conspirators. No supposition of negligence, or indifference, or acci- dent, or insufficiency, or destitution, or necessity, can account for all this. So many, and such positive forms of abuse and wrong cannot come from negative causes. The conclusion is unavoidable, therefore, that these privations and sufferings have been designedly inflicted by the military and other authority of the Rebel Government, and cannot have been due to causes which such authorities could not control. SucTi was the ver- dict of a committee of men whose ability, honor, integ- rity, and fidelity to the duties demanded by truth and justice, no man can rightfully question. It is the testi mony of eye and ear — witnesses which no one, compe- tent to speak, has ever dared to deny. We read with feelings of horror of the cruelties of the British in India, in blowing their Sepoy prisoners to atoms from the muzzles of cannon. That act was merciful compared to the fiendishness exhibited toward Unison prisoners in the late civil war. We read with feelings of horror of the tortures formerly inflicted upon prisoners by the savages of our wilderness. These were mild suffer- ings compared with those to which the conspirators and their instruments subjected the soldiers of the Republic when they fell into their hands. 62 410 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; CHAPTER XXXI. VALUABLE DOCUMENTS. Medical Report of Dr. Ellerslie Wallace. — The Opinion of Reliable Scientific Authorities. — Treatment of the Rebel Prisoners by the United States contrasted with the Treatment of the Union Pris oners by the Rebel Authorities. — Letter of Major General Butler on the Exchange Question. List his discourse of war, and you shall hear A fearful battle render'd you in music : Turn him to any cause of policy. The Gordian knot of it he will unloose. Familiar as his garter. < Shakspeare''s Henry V. One of the most valuable medical reports upon re- cord, as regards certain considerations in relation to the treatment adopted by the Confederate authorities towards United States soldiers, held by them as prisoners of war, with the view of determining the influence of this treat- ment upon the hygiene and mortality of its subjects, is that prepared by Dr. Wallace. He says : "In investigating the subject before us, the question of food^ takes rank as of first importance ; and, in con- sidering this point, there are certain well established facts relating to the subject of alimentation, to which we must refer. In deciding upon the quantity of food requisite for the due support of a man, Professor Dalton says that OR, JOSIE, THE HEEOHiTE OF FLOREISTCE. 411 ' any estimate of tlie total quantity should state also the kind of food used,' as 'the total quantity will neces- sarily vary with the quality, since some articles contain much more alimentary material than others.' And Sur- geon General Hammond says, ' it is necessary that the food of man should consist of a variety of substances, in order that the several functions of the organism may be properly carried on ; no fact in dietetics is better estab- lished than this.' And Professor Dunglison speaks to the same end thus : ' Man is so organized as to be adap- ted for living on both animal and vegetable substances, and if we lay aside our mixed nutriment, and restrict ourselves wholly to the products of the one or the other kingdom, scurvy supervenes.' Dalton states that the amount of solid food required during twenty -four hours by a man in full health and taking free exercise in the open air, is, of bread, nineteen ounces ; meat, sixteen ounces ; and butter, three and a half ounces ; in all, thirty-eight and a half ounces.' Hammond places the amount of solid food ' required to maintain the organism of a healthy adult American, up to the full measure of physical and mental capability, at about forty ounces, of which two-thirds should be vegetable, and one-third animal.' Moreover, due variety in the food is but second in importance to sufficient quantity, (See Pereira on food and diet.) In fact, the last named physiologist declares that ' no matter how nutritious food may be, it is far better to exchange it for that even less nutritious, than to continue an unvarying sameness.' And as to the relation of food to temperature : ' In temperate climates, the seasons exercise an influence, not only over the quality, but the quantity of food taken 412 SOUTH£R]Sr PEISOTiTS ; into the system. Most persons eat more in winter than in summer. The cause is doubtless to be found in the fact, that in cold weather a greater (Quantity of respira- tory food is required in order to ko^ep up the animal heat, than in hot weather, when th<» external tempera- ture more nearly approaches the temperature of the body. 'He who is well fed,' observes Sir John Ross, ' resists cold better than the man who is stinted, while starvation from cold follows but too soon a starvation in food.' And Sir John Franklin, in his narrative of a journey to the Polar Sea, writes, ' no quantity of cloth- ing could keep us warm while we fasted.' ' In tropical climates and in hot seasons, the system requires a smaller quantity of food than in colder countries and in cold seasons ' Individuals whose business requires much bodily exertion, or liat they should spend much of their time in the open air, eat more than those of sedentary habits. And we have, from the authority of Carpenter, in his work on Human Physiology, that ' a considerable reduction in the amount of food sufficient for men in regular active service, is, of course, admissible where little bodily exertion is required, and where there is less exposure to low temperatures.' The ration of the British soldier is, at home stations, sixteen ounces of bread, and twelve ounces of uncooked meat ; at foreign stations, four ounces more of meat are allowed. Any extras are bought by the soldier out of his own funds. The French soldier in the Crimea had forty-two and five-eighths ounces of solid food, about ten and a half ounces of which were animal, the rest vegetable. In time of peace his ration is less. 'The American soldier is .better fed than any other in the world. This is proved by the healthy condition of the OR, JOSIi:, THE HEROIXE OF ELORENCI. 41* troops. Scurvy, one of the first diseases to inalce Us appearance when the food is of inferior quality, has prevailed to so slight an extent, &c.' His ration of solid food is about fifty-two and a half ounces, with a fair range for variety ; and extra issues of pickles, fruits. and special vegetables, are made, when the metdical officers deem them necessary. This ration is more than the man is generally able to consume, and the surplus is resold to the government for his beneiit. The rations issued for the Rebel soldiers held by our government as prisoners of war, were the same as for the United States garrison troops and soldiers on active service, except the bread ration, which was four ounces less ; and the amount given, was, of solid food, forty- three ounces, besides extra vegetables, etc., sometimes, which were procured by sale of the surplus, as above noted in the case of the Federal troops. No material change was made until the iirst of June, 1864, after which date the amount yi't^en was reduced to thirty-four and a half ounces, while the range for variety of articles remained unchanged, and from the excess of the rations issued, the surplus fund for the use of the prisoners was larger than before. That this amount will be sufTi- cient for comfort and health in warm weather, and under the inactive life of the prisoner, we must infer from thp statements of Pereira, Hammond and Carpenter, (above), and ma}^ likewise consider proven by the fact, that »i Fort Delaware, ,even in the cold weather of the past winters, the prisoners could not consume all that was given them, and that large quantities of food were secreted, and wasted by them. By authority of the War Department, the same Regulations are observed id all stations, where prisoners of war were held, and of 414 SOTTTHEBIT PRISOTTS ; course at all such stations, the same general condition of things must prevail. Our evidence exhibits that all needful clothing and hlanJcets, in some cases even to excess, as well as good and adequate sJielter, with sufficient fuel for comfort- able warmth, were furnished by the United States Gov- ernment to the Rebel prisoners. In our visit to Fort Delaware we passed through the barracks and enclosures containing about eight thou- sand prisoners. We observed that these men were in good physical condition, and presented the aspect of health and strength ; as was the case at other stations. The careful attention to cleanliness urged, and sometimes even enforced, by the United States officers in charge, doubtless contributes to their general good condition in no small degree. We were unable to observe any difference between the treatment of the Rebels and the United States soldiers in the hospital at Fort Delaware, or in Lincoln Hosj)ital near Washington. The evidence proves the same arrangements of ward, and bed, and diet, to have been made, with all other necessary appliances, for the Rebel as for the Union soldier, in the time of sickness, at all stations where prisoners of war are held by the United States Government. When we come to investigate the testimony in relation to the treatment of United States soldiers while prison- ers in the hands of the Rebels, we find a most serious diiference from the state of things above described. We learn from those returned that the rations given them varied at different times and places, but their de- clarations all concur in this, that they had not food enough to sustain their strength, nor to satisfy their hunger; and though these men were held captive at OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 415 various tunes, and for a varying period, and at various places, yet their average statements are the same with little limitation. Wheat bread was given to some of them for a short time, but the bread was generally made of corn meal. The largest daily ration of wheat bread of which we have evidence, would weigh about eleven (11) ounces, and the smallest but little more than three (3) ounces. The largest daily ration of corn bread was in bulk from thirty-one (31) to thirty -two (32) cubic inches, represent- ing rather more than twelve (12) ounces of corn meal, while the smallest represented but four (4) ounces. The ration of meat was, in few instances, from four (4) to six (6) ounces, but generally about two ounces, though in some cases it was less than this. The meat was irregularly given ; not often daily, and to some, only at intervals of days, or even several weeks, and when meat was served, the bread was, in many in- stances, diminished. About half a pint of soup containing sweet potato, or generally beans or peas in amount about two ounces, was sometimes given, with or without meat in different cases. The beans and peas were occasionally given raw and dry. The maximum amount of solid food for one day, des- cribed, was, - - - - - 10 oz. bread. 6 oz. beef. With half a pint of soup made of th«e water in which the beef was boiled, and containing about two ounces of beans and peas, and therefore representing, 2 oz. Total, - - - - 18 oz. 41 6 SOUTHEKN PKISOXS ; The minimum amount was about, - 4 oz. bread. 1 oz. beef. Total, - - - - 5 oz. And so, between five (5) and eighteen (18) ounces the rations varied, and in the article of meat, especially, was the great deficiency. But it is necessary to note the character also of the rations. The quality of the wheat bread appears to have been good, but that of corn bread decidedly the reverse. It was made of meal which was coarsely ground and rough, contained all the hull (or bran), often whole grains of corn, with fragments of cob or husk intermingled ; frequently ill-baked, or over-baked, and sour and musty withal. The soup was, by universal declaration of the wit- nesses, repulsive in odor and disgusting in flavor. It appears to have been made of the water in which the beef was boiled. Gravel and sand were the least objec- tionable of the impurities found in it. The beans and peas issued were generally w^orm-eaten, and contained these insects in quantities, so that they would be float- ing on the surface, or intermixed throughout the mass of soup and beans. Dunglison, in the work before quoted, says that ' Corn bread, with those unaccustomed to its use, is apt to produce diarrhoea, in consequence probably of the presence of the husk, with which it is always more or less mixed, &c.,' and it is but little adapted to those liable to bowel affections, &c.' And Dr. Hassall says, ' In those unaccustomed to its use, maize is considered to excite, and to keep up a tendency to diarrhoea.' Every one is aware of the laxative influence of so-called bran OB, JOSIE, THE HEEOnSTE OF FLORENCE. 417 bread, which is due to the physical action of the hull of the grain upon the delicate lining membrane of the stom- ach and bowels, acting thereupon as an excitant or irri- tant, though tempered by the bland influence of the wheaten flour. Now what must be the result when the meal is of corn^ and coarse, and intermixed with hull and grain entire, with husk and cob in fragments, among our Northern troops, who are, for the most part, ' unaccustomed to the use of corn meal % ' We see by the evidence, that some of the men observed the influence of this bread, in producing the diarrhcsa with which so many were afili^ted. The character of the soup, as above described, would stamp it as entirely unfit for food, and upon men already suflering from diarrhoea, the evil influence of such a com- pound is but too plainly to be imagined. The evidence shows that some could not eat it, though hungry to starvation. The average amount of meal allowed, was so small that it is not worthy of special consideration ; and as to variety and change of diet, upon which all physiolo- gists lay so great stress, — it is not in the Record, — there was none of it. How do these amounts and qualities compare with the maximum forty-three ounces, or the minimum thirty -four and a half ounces of standard Government food, of excellent quality, with abundant room for variety, and extra issues of fresh vegetables accord- ing to necessity, which the United States Government allows its prisoners? The question may be answered by contrasting the exhausted, the attenuated, the melan- choly, the imbecile, the dying, and the dead, Union sol- diers, returning home from Richmond — with the cheer- 53 418 SOUTHERN PRisoisrs ; fal, healthy, and vigorous, Southerners, held at, or re- leased from the various United States stations referred to in the appended testimony. Let us look now at the consequence of deficiency of food, as explained by students and observers of the subject. In the medical and surgical history of the British army which served in Turkey and the Crimea, we find that ' during January, 1855, by the deficiency of food, the efficiency of the whole army was seriously compro- mised. Disease was simply the more overt manifesta- tion of a pathological state of the system, which was all but universal, and indicated the worst grades of it. Fe- ver and affections of the bowels represented the forms in which morbid actions were usually presented, while gangrene and scurvy indicated those privations and that exposure from which these diseases were mainly derived.' Again, 'in starvation, the tissues of the body are consumed for the production of heat, and rapid loss of weight is the consequence. The other vital processes all involve decomposition of the substance of organs, and add to the loss which the body undergoes. From insufficient foodi for a few weeks, disease is almost inva- riably induced ; typhus and typhoid fever, scurvy and ancemia are the consequences. Dr. Carpenter, in his Human Physiology, says, ' the prisoners confined in Mill Bank Penitentiary, in 1823, who had previously re- ceived an allowance of from thirty-one to thirty-three ounces of dry nutriment daily, had this allowance sud- denly reduced to twenty-one ounces, — animal food being almost entirely excluded from the diet scale. They were at the same time subjected to a low grade of tem- perature, and to considerable exertion ; in the course of OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOIKE OF FLORENCE. 419 a few weeks ^ the health of a large proportion of the in- mates began to give way. The first symptoms were loss of color, and diminution of health and strength, subse- quently diarrhcea^ d^ysentery, scurny, and lastly ady- namic fevers, or headache, vertigo, convulsions, ma- niacal delirium, appoplexy, &c. After death, ulcerations of the mucous lining of the alimentary canal were very commonly found ; fifty-two per cent, were thus affected. That the reduction of the allowance of food was the main source of the epidemic, was proved. We appeal here to Chossat' s Inquiries, resulting in the proof of this curious effect of insufficient nutri- ment, that it produces an incapability of digesting even the small amount consumed.' ' So that in the end, the results are the same as those of entire deprivation of food, the total amount of loss being almost exactly iden- tical, but its rate being less.' But in addition to our starvation diet, our evidence furnishes proof of confinement to over-crowded rooms, without proper ventilation — of want of clothing — want of shelter — and denial of suitable means of warmth, whether by blankets or by fuel, and this even during the fall, winter and spring, just passed. * Overcrowding, imperfect ventilation, and want of cleanliness, are three conditions usually associated, and may be designated by the single term Crowd Poison- ing.^ The evidence exhibits that about twenty square feet was, in some instances, all the superficial space permitted to each man confined in prison. And, on Belle Isle, it would appear that for a time there was little variation fi-om the same area. ' The air of crowded camps and habitations becomes contaminated through emanations given off during respiration, through effla 420 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; via from the skin, and by decomposition from the vari- ous excreta. The nitrogenized matter carried into the air from the skin, and the products arising from the de- composition of the excreta, are sources of deadly mis- chief. The effects of overcrowding are not only mani- fested by the increased violence and the adynamic char- acter of all diseases occurring among those exposed, but the development and severity of the adynamic fevers appear particularly connected with this cause.' And again, ' To the organic matters emanating from the hu- man body, more than to any other cause, the injurious results of overcrowding are to be ascribed.' ' The proofs are ample, that the emanations from the human body are of a decidedly deleterious character, when present in large amounts in the atmosphere in- haled. They are absorbed by the clothing, and even the walls of the room take them up and retain them for a long time.' ' If animals be kept crowded together in ill- ventilated apartments, they speedily sicken.' 'The continued respiration of an atmosphere charged with the exhalations of the lungs and skin, is the most po- tent of all the predisposing causes of disease.' But Dr. Woodward alludes to ' want of cleanliness ' as one of the elements of ordinary crowd-poisoning. Far more than ordinary was this 'want' in the Rebel prisons, especially on Belle Isle. A reference to the evi- dence will show that accumulation of filth of the most noisome character was compelled by prison discipline ; that important accommodations were denied during the night hours, resulting in unavoidable soiling of the quarters of the prisoners, while the means of bathing, though conyenient, were to so great an extent denied the prisoners, as to produce, in a large number of them, OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE, 421 a condition of the skin, which is not only a disease in itself, but is also a cause of disorders various and grave. We observed the surface of the bodies of a number who suffered thus ; it was of most remarkable aspect, appearing as though it had been covered with a heavy coat of common varnish, which had dried, and cracked, and was peeling up in scales of every size. To the touch, it was as sand-paper of irregular quality. The cuticle — both effete and living— lay, in masses, separated by fissures of varying extent and depth, through which watery and bloody fluids were seen exuding. The soles of the feet were like the sole of a plasterer's shoe — white, brown and yellow ; the cuticle dried and broken, and laminated variously. The functions of the skin, upon which physiologists lay so great stress, are here almost entirely unperformed, and hence we have 'gastric disturbances and diarrhoeas,' with suppression of that aeration of the blood — that true respiration, which, physiologists tell us, takes place through the skin. Hence the lungs are overtaxed, and congestions are induced. And when to this we add the depraved state of the blood of the sufferers, and their exposures to cold, and wet, and storm, by day and night, we have, in full quantity, those general and spe- cial conditions, which induce pulmonary diseases of every grade and character. On the question of clothing and warmth ; from what has been shown above, a corollary is directly deducible, viz : That if food be in limited quantity, low tempera- ture should be avoided, and external warmth duly main- tained. 'Artificial warmth may be made to take the place of nourishment otherwise required. And there is adequate ground for considering death by star'^ation^ as 422 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; really death from cold. The temperature of the body is maintained with little diminution till the fat is con- sumed, and then rapidly falls, unless it be kept up by heat externally applied.' Now not only was external heat not granted by the Rebels to their prisoners, but their blankets were generally taken from them, as also some of their personal clothing. Further, Hhe sick, and feeble will not hear the low temperature, which to those in good condition, acts as a healthful stimulant. In diseases attended, with de- ficient power of circulation, congelation of the tissues is liable to occur, from the . iects of a temperature which could not give rise to it in a healthy subject.' We see that diarrhoea, scurvy, — and these two disorders ex- isting coincidently ' in the majority of cases of diarr- hoea,' — congestion of the lungs of atonic character, and ' debilitas,' (as the medical records of the hospital have it,) all stand out prominently in the evidence, as being an almost constant condition among those who have been prisoners in Danville, Va., Richmond, Va., and especially on Belle Isle. The authorities hereinbefore quoted, show that these formidable disorders are the legitimate offspring of the treatment to which our men have been subjected while in the hands of the Rebels. Shall we be surprised that diseases obey the laws of their production, or that they flourish, luxuriant and rank, in a soil specially prepared for their reception? And are not all these ' diseases attended with deficient power of circulation V Are not the subjects of the same ' sick and feeble?' Is it at all surprising that they cannot bear the low temperature of a winter on Belle Isle, — clad only in worn out or scanty clothing, — with inadequate, or with no shelter, — with little fire, or generally none at OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 423 all, — and having no resting place but the ground, in mud and frost and snow ? Nay, is it not a cause for wonder that ' congelation of the tissues' was not even more commor/ MHiong them ? Our evidence tells of many men freezing on Belle Isle, to loss of limb, and more, of life. We saw cases of ^amputation by frost' at the United States Hospitals, and Baltimore and Annapolis, and the ' Quarterly Report of the hospitals for the Fed- eral prisoners, Richmond, Ya.,' shows that of two thou- sand seven hundred and seventy -nine patients admitted in January, February and March, 1864, there were fifteen cases of gelatio, (or freezing) and fifty of gangrene from frozen leet ! And from the same document we find that two thousand one hundred and twenty-one, out of two thousand seven hundred and seventy-nine, were affected with debility, adynamic fevers, diarrhoea, dysen- tery, diseases of the chest, and scurvy — the very effects proved above to be produced by starvation, cold, over- crowding, filth and exposure ; and, as already men- tioned, the testimony of the United States surgeons at Annapolis and Baltimore shows that the great majoritj^ of our soldiers received from Rebel prisons suffered under the same affections. These surgeons further declare, that these diseases did not yield to ordinary medical treatment ; that they were most successfuly managed by ^nulifying the catise,^ that is, by nutrition and stimulation, with especial attention to cleanliness and fresh air, medical agencies being only accessories, and sometimes not resorted to at all. M. Fleury (cours d' hygiene) says: 'Sons le noni (XQfie'Gre de famine, M. de Meersman a trace un tableau complet et methodiqne de V etat Tnorbide que deneloppe 424 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; V alimentation insuffisante, et qu'il dit avoir observe en 1846 et 1847 dans les Flandres beiges.' He then recounts the article, which is too long to bear quotation here, but it is a most singularly accurate description of that which our soldiers returned from Rebel prisons state in regard to their own feelings and sufferings, — of those conditions which the United States surgeons at the Annapolis and Baltimore hospitals have delineated to us, — and which we witnessed and observed in our visits to the institu- tions above mentioned. It is utterly incorrect to charge the bodily attenuation, the mental imbecility, and the startling mortality which prevail so largely among the men from the prisons of the South, upon the mere diseases of which they are the subjects. If a man swallow a poisonous dose of arsenic, he will suffer pain, vomiting, diarrhcBa haemorr- hages and convulsions, even unto death ; are these 'more overt manifestations,' — these necessary conse- quences of the morbific agent applied, — to be considered as the causes of the death ? Or shall we go to the true first cause direct, and say ' the man died from poison- ing by arsenic ? ' So have our men died — from cold and exposure, from crowd-poisoning, from starvation and from privation, while the way to death was roughly paved with disease of body and of mind, — mere minor manifestations of these allied powers of evil. But we further find a similar treatment, — similar in kind, though modified in degree, — dealt out to the wounded and the sick on Belle Isle and in Richmond. The evidence of those who have been under the care of surgeons at these stations is corroborated by the testi- mony of Colonel Farnsworth, and by that of Surgeons OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOIIfE OF FLORENCE. 425 Ferguson and Richards. The latter lay stress upon the offensive, and 'utterly unfit,' character of the beds and bedding, and declare that the diet was 'entirely insufficient to give them a proper chance of recovery,' and state further that there was a deficiency of medical supplies in the hospital for Federal prisoners, while the evidence is before us that at General Hospital No. 5, Richmond, the Confederate soldier had 'as much good food as he could eat, with good bedding and sheets;' and evidence to the same end appears in rela- tion to ' Confederate hospitals in the field.' On the subject of the mortality of Union prisoners in Rebel hands, we find that the 'Quarterly Report' above referred to, exhibits a record, which, though startling and fearful, is yet easily explained by the foregoing considerations. For what can be expected of men worn out, almost unto death, by the want of those things which are necessary for the body, — and then further re- duced by disease, — when subjected to such privations and noxious influences as those described by Surgeons Ferguson and Richards? This 'Report' shows a mortality among the sick of rather more than fifty per cent. ! How does this compare with that at the United States Army General Hospital at Annapolis, which is only eighteen per cent? Yet the cases at Annapolis were all brought by flag-of-truce boat; from City Point, Virginia, and were of the same general class as those in the 'Hospitals for the Federal Prisoners, Richmond, Virginia.' Further, w-e find that a ' Confederate official, whose evidence cannot be questioned, declared that of the numbers remaining at Belle Isle, then about eight thousand, (8,000), about twenty-five died daily, and that 54 426 SOUTIIEKIS' PRISON'S ; it would be but a few weeks before the deaths would count fifty a day.' From this, we lia,ve a mortality at Belle Isle in a ratio of one hundred and, fourteen per cent, per year, with double this amount in prospect. Again ; the Macon Journal and Messenger says that 'there are now over twenty-seven thousand (27,000) prisoners at Andersonville, Georgia, among whom the deaths are from fifty to sixty a day,' or in a ratio of about from sixty-eight to eighty-one per cent, per year. Turn now to the mortality among the Rebel prisoners at Fort Delaware, where, in addition to the more ordi- nary causes of sickness and death among soldier-pris- oners, we find ' small -pox, the majority of the prisoners not having been vaccinated before they came here.' Also, a 'prostrated condition of the prisoners from Vicksburg, a great many of whom had to be carried, on their arrival here, from the boat to the hospital, and many of whom represented that they had been limited to half and quarter rations during the seige of Vicks- burg;' and 'prisoners from Vicksburg and the Missis- sippi Valley laboring under miasmatic influences, under which a great number of them died.' Yet with all these extra causes of death, the mortality for the entire year just closed, amounts to less than twenty-nine per cent., and when these special causes ceased to exist, it diminished rapidly, and during the three months of April, May, and June, it had fallen to helow a ratio of ten and a half per cent, per year, and was still di- minishing, while the sum total of prisoners was yet increasing. Again; at Johnson's Island, Sandusky bay, Ohio,— the climate of which station has been stigmatized by our enemies as insalubrious, and in high degree per- OR, JOSIE THE HEROIT^E «F FLOEEIfCE. 427 nicious to the constitution of the Southerner, — the deaths among the rebel prisoners during the year 1863, with the prevalence of measles and small-pox, amounted to less tlian nine per cent.; and during May and June of this year, there were but six deaths, that is, in the ratio of less than two per cent, per year. By such contrasts of mortality at United States sta- tions, and at Rebel stations, argument and comment are struck dumb. There are still others, who are destined to fall victims to what we are compelled by the evidence to consider a carefully devised plan for the destruction of Union soldiers, by weapons as surely, though not so merci- fully, fatal as shot and shell and bayonet. We refer to such as, being broken down in mind and intellect, and vitiated in bodily vigor, and diseased beyond hope of recovery, by all the morbific causes which the Rebel authorities have arrayed against them during their im- prisonment, — and who being discharged from their country's service for disability, — will, in weeks and months to come, swell the local lists of mortality in the districts of their own homes." THE EXCHANGE QUESTION. It has not been thought necessary to allude to the subject of the suspension of the cartel of exchange, but as all who peruse this work will naturally enough ask the question, as to why the United States Government did not effect an exchange, so as to relieve our soldiers of the sufferings infflicted upon them by the Rebel au- thorities, I will now introduce to my readers a letter from Major-General Butler, Commissioner of Exchange, to the Confederate Commissioner, Ould, wliich discusses 428 soTJiTHERisr PKisOiS^s ; this question pretty thoroughly, and which reads as follows : "Sir : — Your note to Major Mulford, Assistant Agent of Exchange, under date of 10th August, has been re- ferred to me. You therein state that Major Muiford has several times proposed 'to exchange prisoners respectively held by two belligerents, officer for officer and man for man,' and that 'the oifer has also been made by other offi- cials having charge of matters connected with the ex- change of prisoners,' and that 'this proposal has been heretofore declined by the Confederate authorities.' That you now ' consent to the above proposition, and agree to deliver to you (Major Mulford) the prisoners held in captivity by the Confederate authorities, pro- vided you agree to deliver an equal number of officers and men. As equal numbers are delivered from time to time, they will be declared exchanged. This proposal is made with the understanding that the officers and men on both sides who have been longest in captivity will be first delivered, where it is practicable.' From a slight ambiguity in your phraseology, but more, perhaps, from the antecedent action of your au- thorities, and because of your acceptance of it, I am in doubt whether you have stated the proposition with en- tire accuracy. It is true, a proposition was made both by Major Mulford and by myself, as Agent of Exchange, to ex- change all prisoners of war taken by either belligerent party, man for man, officer for officer, of equal rank, or their equivalents. It was made by me as early as the first of the winter of 1863-64, and has not been accepted. In May last I forwarded to you a note, desiring to know OR, J0SI:E, the heroine of FLORENCE. 429 whether the Confederate authorities intended to treat colored soldiers of the United States army as prisoners of war. To that inquiry no answer has yet been made. To avoid all possible misapprehension or mistake here- after as to your offer now, will you now say whether you mean by 'prisoners held in captivity,' colored men, duly enrolled, and mustered into the service of the United States, who have been captured by the Con- federate forces; and if your authorities are willing to exchange all soldiers so mustered into the United States army, whether colored or otherwise, and the officers commanding them, man for man, officer for officer ? At the interview which was held between yourself and the Agent of Exchange on the part of the United States, at Fortress Monroe, in March last, you will do me the favor to remember the principal discussion turned upon this very point; you, on behalf of the Con- federate Government claiming the right to hold all ne- groes, who had heretofore been slaves, and not emanci- pated by their masters, enrolled and mustered into the service of the United States, when captured by your forces, not as prisoners of war, but upon capture to be turned over to their supposed masters or claimants, whoever they might be, to be held by them as slaves. By the advertisements in your newspapers, calling upon masters to come forward and claim these men so captured, I suppose that your authorities still adhere to that claim — that is to say, that whenever a colored soldier of the United States is captured by you, upon whom any claim can be made by any person residing within the States now in insurrection, such soldier is not to be treated as a prisoner of war, but is to be turned over to his supposed owner or claimant, and put at such 430 SOTJTHEEISr PEISONS ; labor or service as that owner or claimant may choose, and the officers in command of such soldiers, in the lan- guage of a supposed act of the Confederate States, are to be turned over to the Governors of States, upon re- quisitions, for the purpose of being punished by the laws of such States, for acts done in war in the armies of the United States. You must be aware that there is still a proclamation by Jefferson Davis, claiming to be Chief Executive of the Confederate States, declaring in substance that all officers of colored troops mustered into the service of the United States were not to be treated as prisoners of war, but were to be turned over for punishment to the Gov- ernors of States. I am reciting these public acts from memory, and will be pardoned for not giving the exact words, although I believe 1 do not vary the substance and effect. These declarations on the part of those whom you represent yet remain unrepealed, unannulled, unre voked, and must, therefore, be still supposed to be au- thoritative. By your acceptance of our proposition, is the Government of the United States to understa.nd that these several claims, enactments, and proclaimed declar- ations are to be given up, set aside, revoked, and held for naught by the Confederate authorities, and that you are ready and willing to exchange man for man those colored soldiers of the United States, duly mustered and enrolled as such, who have heretofore been claimed as slaves by the Confederate States, as well as white sol- diers ? If this be so, and you are so willing to exchange these colored men claimed as slaves, and you will so officially inform the Government of the United States, then, as I OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORENCE. 431 am instructed, a principal difficulty in effecting ex- changes will be removed. As I informed you personally, in my judgment, it is neither consistent with the policy, dignity, or honor of the United States, upon any consideration, to allow those who, by our laws solemnly enacted, are made soldiers of the Union, and who have been duly enlisted, enrolled and mustered as such soldiers, who have borne arms in behalf of this country, and who have been cap- tured while fighting in vindication of the rights of that country, not to be treated as prisoners of war, and re- main unexchanged, and in the service of those who claim them as masters; and I cannot believe that the Government of the United States will ever be found to consent to so gross a wrong. Pardon me if I misunderstood you in' supposing that your acceptance of our proposition does not in good faith mean to include all the soldiers of the Union, and that you still intend, if your acceptance is agreed to, to hold the colored soldiers of the Union unexchanged, and at labor or service, because I am informed that very lately, almost contemporaneously with this offer on your part to exchange prisoners and which seems to include all prisoners of war, the Confederate authorities have made a declaration that the negroes heretofore held to service by owners in the States of Delaware, Maryland and Missouri are to be treated as prisoners of war, when captured in arms in the service of the United States. Such declaration that a part of the colored soldiers of the United States were to be prisoners of war, would seem most strongly to imply that others were not to be so treated, or in other words, that the colored men from the insurrectionary States are to be held to labor and 432 SOFTHERN PRISONS ; returned to their masters, if captured by the Confed- erate forces while duly enrolled and mustered into, and actually in the armies of the United States. In the view which the Government of the United States takes of the claim made by you to the persons and services of these negroes, it is not to be supported upon any principle of national and municipal law. Looking upon these men only as property, upon your theory of property in them, we do not see how this claim can be made, certainly not how it can be yielded. It is believed to be a well settled rule of pub- lic international law, and a custom and part of the laws of war, that the capture of moveable property vests the title to that property in the captor, and therefore where one belligerent gets into full possession of property belonging to the subjects or citizens of the other belli- gerent, the owner of that property is at once divested of his title, which rests in the belligerent Government capturing and holding such possession. Upon this rule of international law all civilized nations have acted, and by it both belligerents have dealt with all property, save slaves, taken from each other during the present war. If the Confederate forces capture a number of horses from the United States, the animals immediately are claimed to be, and, as we understand it, become the property of the Confederate authorities. If the United States capture any moveable property in the rebellion, by our regulations and laws, in con- formity with international law, and the laws of war, such property is turned over to our Government as its property. Therefore, if we obtain possession of that species of property known to the laws of the insurrec- OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 433 tionary States as slaves, why should there be any doubt that that property, like any other, vests in the United States ? If the property in the slave does so vest, then the ^^jus disponendi,'' the right of disposing of that prop- erty, rests in the United States. Now, the United States have disposed of the property which they have acquired by capture in slaves taken by them, by giving that right of property to the man himself, to the slave, i. e., by emancipating him and de- claring him free forever, so that if we have not mistaken the principles of international law and the laws of war we have no slaves in the armies of the United States. All are free men, being made so in such manner as we have chosen to dispose of our property in them which we acquired b}^ capture. Slaves being captured by us, and the right of proper- ty in them thereby vested in us, that right of property has been disposed of by us in manumitting them, as has always been the acknowledged right of the owner to do to his slave. The manner in which we dispose of our property while it is in our possession certainly cannot be questioned by you. Nor is the case altered if the property is not actually captured in battle, but comes either voluntary or invol- untary from the belligerent owner into the posession of the other belligerent. I take it no one would doubt the right of the United States to a drove of Confederate mules, or a herd of Confederate cattle, which should wander or rush across the Confederate lines into the lines of the United States army. So it seems to me, treating the negro as prop- erty merely, if that piece of property passes the Con- 65 434 SOUTHERTf PRISONS ; federate lines, and comes into the lines of United States, that property is as much lost to its owner in the Confed- erate States as would be the mule or ox, the property of the resident of the Confederate States, which should fall into our hands. If, therefore, the privilege of international law and the laws of war used in this discussion are correctly stated, then it would seem that the deduction logically flows therefrom, in natural sequence, that the Confeder- ate States can have no claim upon the negro soldiers captured by them from the armies of the United States, because of the former ownership of them by their citi- zens or subjects, and only claim such as result, under the laws of war, from their captor merely. Do the Confederate authorities claim the right to re- duce to a state of slavery free men, prisoners of war captured by them ? This claim our fathers fought against under Bainbridge and Decatur, when set up by the Barbary powers on the northern shore of Africa, about the year 1800, and in 1864 their children will hardly yield it upon their own soil. This point I will not pursue further, because I under- stand you to repudiate the idea that you will reduce free men to slavery because of captu're in war, and that you base the claim of the Confederate authorities to re-en- slave our negro soldiers, when captured by you, upon the '■'•jus post limini," or that principle of the law of na- tions which inhabilitates the former owner with his prop- erty taken by an enemy, when such property is recov- ered by the forces of his own country. Or in other words, you claim that, by the laws of na- tions and of war, when property of the subjects of one belligerent power, captured by the forces of the other OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOIlSrE OF FLOEENCE. 435 belligerent, is recaptured by the armies of the former owner, then such property is to be restored to its prior possessor, as if it had never been captured ; and, there- fore, under this principle your authorities propose to restore to their masters the slaves which heretofore be- longed to them which you may capture from us. But this post liminary right under which you claim to act, as understood and defined by all writers on national law, is applicable simply to im7not>ahle proper- ty, and that too, only after the complete re-subjugation of that portion of the country in which the property is sitaated; upon which this right fastens itself By the laws and customs of war, this right has never been ap- plied to movable property. True, it is I believe, that the Romans attempted to apply it to the case of slaves, but for two thousand years no other nation has attempted to set up this right as ground for treating slaves differently from other property. But the Romans even refused to re-enslave men cap- tured from opposing belligerents in a civil war, such as ours unhappily is. Consistently then with any principle of the law of nations, treating slaves as property merely, it would seem impossible for the Government of the United States to permit the negroes in their ranks to be re-enslaved when captured, or treated otherwise than prisoners of war. I have forborne, sir, in this discussion, to argue the question upon any other or different grounds of right than those adopted by your authorities in claiming the negro as property, because I understand that your fabric of opposition to the Government of the United States has the right of property in man as its corner- 436 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; stone. Of course it would not be profitable in settling a question of exchange of prisoners of war to attempt to argue the question of abandonment of the very corner- stone of their attempted political edifice. Therefore I have admitted all the considerations which should apply to the negro soldier as a man, and dealt with him upon the Confederate theory of property only. I unite with you most cordially, sir, in desiring a speedy settlement of all these questions, in view of the great suffering endured by our prisoners in the hands of your authorities, of which you so feelingly speak. Let me ask, in view of that suffering, why you have delayed eight months to answer a proposition which by now accepting you admit to be right, just and humane, allowing that suflTering to continue so long ? One can- not lielp thinking, even at the risk of being deemed uncharitable, that the benevolent sympathies of the Confederate authorities have been lately stirred by the depleted condition of their armies, and a desire to get into the field, to affect the present campaign, the hale, hearty, and well fed prisoners held by the United States in exchange for the half-starved, sick, emaciated, and unserviceable soldiers of the United States now lan- guishing in your prisons. The events of this war, if we did not know before, have taught us that it is not the Northern portion of the American people alone who know how to drive sharp bargains. The wrongs, indignities, and privations suffered by our soldiers would move me to consent to anything to procure their exchange, except to barter away the hon- or and faith of the Government of the United States, which has been solemnly pledged to the colored soldiers in its ranks. OR, JOSIE THE HEKOIXE OF FLORENCE. 437 Consistently with national faith and justice we can- not relinquish this position. With 3^our authorities it is a question of property merely. It seems to address itself to you in this form Will you suffer your soldier, captured in fighting your battles, to be in confinement for months rather than release him by giving for him that which you call a piece of property, and which we are willing to accept as a man ? You certainly appear to place less value upon your soldier than you do upon your negro. I assure you, much as we of the North are accused of loving property, our citizens would have no difficulty in yielding up any piece of property they have in exchange for one of their brothers or sons languishing in your prisons. Certainly there could be no doubt that they would do so were that piece of property less in value than five thousand dol- lars in Confederate money, which is believed to be the price of an able-bodied negro in the insurrectionary States. I trust that I may receive such a reply to the ques- tions propounded in this note as will tend to a speedy resumption of the negotiations in a full exchange of all prisoners, and a delivery of them to their respective authorities." I have thus described fully, fairly and, I believe, truthfully, the subject of the treatment of Union prison- ers of war by their Rebel opponents. No one can resist the impression which such a mass of evidence as is here collated must force upon every thinking mind. It is established beyond all question that the barbarities in- flicted upon Northern captives by their kinsmen of the South far exceeded those perpetrated by any civilized race, indeed often surpassed the inhumanity of the very 438 SOUTHEEN PKISONS ; savages. Since the introduction of tlie Cliristiau relig- ion, at least war had heretofore been divested of ;^ome of its horrors and the captive had as a rule been treated with forbearance and reasonable kindness, while the law of exchange had been regarded, by means of which the prisoner might hope to regain his home and friends at no distant day. The Southern Rebellion presented the first and only spectacle of a contest in which the law of exchange was ignored and in which the hapless captives were wickedly and deliberately starved to death, that their horrible fate might appal the armies and nation of which they were a part and induce a peace which seemed desperate without such resorts. That the scheme failed of its objects was not the merit of the leaders of the Rebellion. How different from all this was the treatment bestowed upon the prisoners by the belligerents in the recent Franco-Prussian war! though it was a contest of ini- quity in the wicked ambition of one man, waged to cement his title to a usurped throne, yet the laws of humanity governed its guidance on the part of both French and Prussians. The prisoners captured by each, whether unhurt, wounded or sick were treated most honorably. The wounded and sick of the enemy were cared for by each nation with as much solicitude as were its own troops. The captives taken uninjured were transported by rail in comfortable carriages to plea- sant towns in the interior of the nation, and there enjoyed not only the comforts of life, but also the great- est amount of liberty compatible with the simple restraint from escape. They were allowed free and con- stant communication with their friends ; they received from their distant homes continuous tokens of love and OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 439 remembrance. Kind ladies visited them, spoke words of consolation and encouragement, and soothed their captivity by acts of charity and loving pity. In the prisons of the South the prisoners were dead to their friends ; they underwent lingering and horrible deaths ; they received from their barbarous captors nothing but brutality and cruel contempt ; they were hated with a deadly hatred by the people who had formerly called themselves their brethren, and they gave to the world its grandest spectacle in modern times of men suffering all things and dying all deaths for liberty and nationality. The considerate course afterward pursued by civilized nations, especially the French and Prussians, is the world' s verdict upon the course of the Southern Rebels, the most triumphant contrast and the most severe con- demnation which could have been uttered. 440 SOUTHEEN PEisoirs ; CHAPTER XXXII. THE END AT LAST. I am Exchanged, Dec. 13. — The famous City of Charleston. — My Return to my Home. — Visit to New York and Philadelphia. — Life and its Misfortunes. — Dissipation and the Result. — Our Young Ladies and Society. — Young Men and Business. — Re- union with my Regiment. — Army Life. — The Poetry and Re- ality of War. — How will Posterity look upon those Military Burial Places ? Liberty, like day. Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from heaven Fires all the faculties with glorious joy. Cowper's Task. December 13, 1864, will always stand a white letter day in my calendar of days, the day on wliicli, then a captive at Florence, I was exchanged under the agree- ment made during the summer between the United States Government and the Confederate authorities for the exchange of 10,000 sick and wounded men on either side. I was then slightly indisposed, having for some time hardly been able to walk about, mainly through a renewed attack of the scurvy. The intelligence of the exchange, however, sent the blood boiling through my veins as of old, and I knew that my manhood and strength had not yet been destroyed, even by more than a year of barbarous imprisonment. "What days of blissful expectation were those that preceded OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOES-E OF FLORENCE. 441 my departure ! The world, from which I had been hitherto secluded — the world, in which my fancy had so often delighted to roam — whose paths were strewn with fadeless roses — whose every scene smiled in beauty and invited to delight — where all the people were good, and all the good happy — ah ! then that world was bursting upon my view. Let me catch the rapturous remembrance before it vanishes ! it is like the passing lights of autumn, that gleam for a moment on a hill, and then leave it to darkness. I counted the days and hours that withheld me from this fairy land, it was in prison only that people were deceitful and cruel." I thanked God for his goodness in thus releasing me from the hands of my oppressors, and my heart burned at the thought of rejoining my regiment, which was then serving in front of Petersburg, under Gen. Grants of aiding in dealing the death blow to the falling Confederacy, and of then proceeding South and recovering my long lost bride. From Florence we were sent direct to Charleston, and there took steamer and sailed for Annapolis, Md. Of this doomed city of Charleston, Lieut. J. Ogden, of the First Wisconsin Cavalry, has composed the following beautiful and appropriate lines : — CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA. I. Oh thou doomed city of the evil seed, Long nursed by baneful passion's heated breath 1 Now bursts the germ, and lo, the evil deed Invites the sword of war. the stroke of death I Suns smile on thee, and yet thou smilest not ; 66 442 SOTTTHERN PRISONS; Thy fame, thy fashion are alike forgot. Consumption festers in thy inmost heart ; The shirt of Nessus fouls thy secret part. II. Lo, in thy streets — thy boast in other days — Grim silence sits, and rancorous weeds arise I No joyous mirth, no hymns of grateful praise, Greet human ears nor court the upper skies; But deadly pallor, and a fearful looking for The hand of vengeance and the sword of war. Thy prayer is answered, and around, above. The wrath of God and man doth hourly move. III. Thy foes are in thy heart, and lie unseen ; They drink thy life-blood and thy substance up; And though in pride thou usest to sit a queen, Justice at last commands the bitter cup. The blood of slaves upon thy skirts is found ; Their tears have soaked this sacrilegious ground. The chains that manacled their ebon arms Now clank about thine own in dread alarms. IV. Thy sanctuaries are forsaken now ; Dark moixld and moss cling to thy fretted towers; Deep rents and seams, where straggling lichens grow, And no sweet voice of prayer at vestal hours ; But voice of screaming shot and bursting shell, Thy deep damnation and thy doom foretell. The fire has left a swamp of broken walls. Where night-hags revel in thy ruined halls. OB, JOSIE, THE HEKOINE OF FLORENCE. 443 V. Oh, vain thy boast, proud city, desolate ! Thy curses rest upon thy guilty head ! In folly's madness, thou didst desecrate Thy sacred vows, to holy Union wed. And now behold the fruit of this thy sin : Thy courts without o'errun, defiled within ; Gross darkness broods upon thy holy place ; Forsaken all, thy pride in deep disgrace. VI. Wail, city of the proud palmetto-tree ! Thy figs and vines shall bloom for thee no more! Thou scorn'dst the hand of God, that made thee free, In driving freemen from their native shore. Thy rivers still seek peacefully the sea, Yet bear no wealth on them, no joy for thee. Thy isles look out and bask beneath the sun, But silence reigns — their Sabbath is begun / VII. Blood ! BLOOD is on thy skirts, oh, city doomed ! The cry of vengeance hath begirt thee round; Here, where the citron and the orange bloomed, God's curse rests on the half-forsaken ground 1 Thy treason, passion-nursed, is overgrown — Thy cup of wrath is full, is overflown. Repent, for God can yet a remnant save, But traitors and their deeds shall find the grave 1 During our stay at Charleston we had occasion to visit the hospitals, and were especially charmed to notice 444 SOFTHEKN PKisoisrs ; the zeal and kindness which those noble women, the Sisters of Charity, displayed towards our wounded and sick and which have been well commemorated by an able writer, as follows : ''Confined as we are, so far away from every home comfort and influence, and from all that makes life worth living for, how quickly do we notice the first kind word, the passing friendly glance ! Can any prisoner, confined here, ever forget the "Sisters of Charity?" Ask the poor private, now suffering in those loathsome hospitals, so near us, if he can forget the kind look, the kind word given him by that " Sister," while burning with fever or racked with pain ? Many are the bunches of grapes, many the sip of its pure juice, does the suf- ferer get from her hands. They seem — they are min- istering angels ; and while all around us are our avowed enemies, they remain true to every instinct of woman- hood. They dare lift the finger to help, they do relieve many a sufferer. All through the South our sick and wounded sol- diers have had reason to bless the Sisters of Charity. They have ministered to their wants, and performed those kind womanly ofiices which are better to the sick than medicine, and so peculiarly soothing to the dying. These noble women have tended their sick beds when the other professedly Christian ladies of the South looked on in scorn, and turned away without even a kind word. They have done what some were too bitter and cruel to do ; they have done what others did not dare to do. They were some how permitted to bestow charities wherever charities were needed, without fear or molestation. Thek bounties were bestowed indis- OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 445 criminately on Federal and Rebel sufferers, and bespoke a broad philanthropy, unlimited by party or church or nation. Many a poor soldier has followed them from ward to ward with tearful eyes, and remembered the poet's lines : — " Woman I Blest partner of our joys and woes ! Even in the darkest hour of earthly ill, Untarnished yet, thy fond affection glows, Throbs with each pulse, and beats with every thrill I "When sorrow rends the heart, when feverish pain Wrings the hot drops of anguish from the brow, To soothe the soul, to cool the burning brain. Oh, who so welcome, and so prompt as thou I The battle's hurried scene, and angry blow, The death-encircled pillow of distress. The lonely moments of secluded woe — Alike thy care and constancy confess, Ahke thy pitying hand and fearless friendshiD bless" Were other denominations in the South as active in aiding us as the Catholics have been^ I might have some faith in Eebel Christianity." As we steamed out upon the ocean, and I cast my eyes back upon the low, cruel beach, ot Charleston Harbor, the whole bitterness of my long imprisonment seemed to rise up before me, and I cursed the land which could produce such a throng of barbarians and traitors; then my thoughts turned Northward, and in the bright visions of a future life my prison experience became but as a memory, never, indeed, to be forgotten, but in fu- ture to be looked back upon as a dream of horror woven into which were still some beautiful threads. In my heart lay the image of my wife, the guiding star of my 446 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; existence, to a reunion with whom all my actions were planned. On the dark blue sea I first fully realized Byron' s glorious lines : — " Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean — roll I Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; — upon the water j plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, "Without a grave, unknell'd, unconffin'd and unknown. Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests : in all time, Calm or convuls'd — in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving ; — boundless, endless, and sublime — The image of eternity — the throne Of the invisible, even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone Obeys thee ; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone." Our pitiable condition excited infinite compassion both among the officers and crew of the steamer, and among all persons at Annapolis. We were photo- graphed there as specimens of what Rebel atrocity could work. As for myself I was nothing but a skele- ton. I had almost lost my speech, and I could hardly stand. At the time I was in no condition to join my regiment or do aught but recuperate my wasted strength, and of course any action towards the recovery of my wife was impossible until the war should close, there- fore I was paid the large amount of money due me and OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF FLOEENCE. 447 given a thirty days' farlough. The following song of the Union prisoners coming from the Sonth was exceed- ing popular among the men at Annapolis at this period: THE SONG OF UNION PRISONERS, FROM DIXIE'S SUNNY LAND. « AIR — "twenty years AGO." Dear friends and fellow-soldiers brave, come listen to our song, About the rebel prisons and our sojourn there so long; Yet our wretched state and hardships great no one can understand, But those who have endured this fate in Dixie's sunny land. When captured by the chivalry (?) they stripped us to the skin, But failed to give us back again the value of a pin, Except some lousy rags of gray discarded by their band ; And thus commenced our prison life in Dixie's sunny land. With a host of guards surrounding us, each with a loaded gun, We were stationed in an open pkin, exposed to rain and sun; No tent or tree to shelter us, we lay upon the sand — Thus side by side great numbers died in Dixie's sunny land, This was the daily "Bill of fare" in that secesh saloon — No sugar, tea or coffee there at morning night or noon ; But " a pint of meal ground cob and all " was served to every man, And for want of fire we ate it raw in Dixie's sunny land. We were by these poor rations soon reduced to skin and bone, A hngering starvation — worse than death I you can but own. There hundreds lays, both night and day, by far to weak to stand. Till death relieved their sufferings in Dixie's sunny land. We poor survivors oft' were tried by many a threat and bribe, To desert our glorious " Union cause, " and join the rebel tribe ; Though fain were we to leave the place, we let them understand " We had rather die than thus disgrace our flag ! " in Dixie's land 448 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; Thus dreary days andnights rolled by — yes, weeks and months untold Until that happy time arrived when we were all paroled ; We landed at Annapolis, a wretched looking band, But glad to be alive and free from Dixie's sunny land. How like a dream those days now seem in retrospective view, As we regain our wasted strength, all dressed in " Union Blue " — The debt we owe our bitter foe shall not have long to stand, We shall pay it with a vengeance soon in Dixie's sunny land. My furlough I received January 2d. 1865, and on the evening of the 6th instant I arrived again at my home in Detroit, after an absence of about three years. Stopping that night at a liotel, the next morning I set out into tlie city to learn something, if possible, con- cerning my mother and the two sisters whom I had left in Detroit. Of the death of the former I had been informed while at Andersonville ; of the latter I had heard nothing whatever for long months. I found my way to the house where we formerly lived, but a strange face answered my knock at the door, and the lady confirmed the intelligence of my mother' s untimely fate. She knew nothing as to where my sisters were, and I went forth into the city not knowing where or to whom to turn for information and assistance. I walked the public streets, but met no familiar faces. I called at a few houses, whose inmates I had known well before the war, but they had removed, left the city, or perchance even died. I could hardly speak above a whisper, and peo- ple stared, astonished at my ghastly appearance. At last, as I was rapidly becoming discouraged, I by mere- est accident chanced to notice a gentleman of my ftxr- mer aquaintance entering a busines house. I went up to him and asked him if he knew me. He said my face OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 449 looked rather familiar, but lie could not possibly re- member who I was. I told him my name was Bowling, and that I had just come home from the war. He seemed startled upon hearing the name, stared hard at me for a moment and recalling the old face, gi-eeted me witli infinite kindness and tenderness. Through him I learned of the whereabouts of my sisters, and was soon locked in their arms, where I experienced that pure, unalloyed joy which is found in sisterly afi^ection. jOuring the thirty days throughout which i remained m Detroit, I was treated witli the utmost kindness by both relatives and friends, and at the house of my married sister, which I made my home, the number of visitors that called upon me to hear my strange story and tender to me offices of kindness was legion. Under these friend- ly ministrations I rapidly, though not entirely, recovered my strength and partially my voice, and my health was in a fair way of becoming restored. February 1st, I bade them an affectionate adieu, and started on my return to Annapolis. I was four days upon the journey, and reported at headquarters at once on arriving. February 7th, I was sent to Camp Chase, at Columbus, Ohio, distant three miles from the city itself, and on February 12th, I received another fur- lough for thirty days, and returned to Detroit. For the more complete restoration of my health, I determined now to make a pleasure tour of considerable length, and went by way of Cleveland and Buffalo to New York city. I made the acquaintance of a rich merchant during my journey east, and found him a de- lightful companion in all respects. We stopped togeth- er at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and saw all of the great city which could be compressed into the brief space of 57 460 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; eight days. Accompanied by a couple of my friends, we traversed the gay Broadway, with its miles of gor- geous stores, its vast and stately hotels ; saw the crowd surging and swarming in and through it constantly, both day and night ; beheld from a distance its gam- bling hells, with which the street is perfectly invested, distinguished by the solidity and elegance of its en- trances, the steady, brilliant light which always burns in them over the doors, the air of perfect repose and quietness with which everything seems carried on,' and naught to indicate to the innocent passer-by that upon that second floor, in that elegantly furnished room, the walls of which are covered with beautiful and valuable pictures, where everj^thing breathes an air of refinement and grace, fortunes are nightly won and lost. We saw the beautiful Central Park, with its throngs of fashion- able ladies and gentlemen idling through it, the great Harlem Aqueduct near it, a gigantic work of art ; and, passing over to Brooklyn, we visited the beautiful Greenwood, that charming home of the dead. "Five years ago I left New York, its surging populace rattling and roaring along its stormy streets, and, return- ing, the stunning refrain is taken up in my ears at the point where it seemed to cease ; yet all this time the multitudinous tramp of hurried humanity has unceas- ingly continued. I seem to see the same faces, eager and dyspeptic, the same equipages, the same walking advertisements of female folly and extravagance, the same beggars, with the same old hats and shrill organs. Yet they change continually. The broker who blows ofi" the top of his head, or drops helplessly paralyzed, or retreats bankrupt and broken-hearted into obscurity, is succeeded by another to run a like career. So it OK, JOSIE, THE HEROIlSrE OF FLORENCE. 451 is with the merchant and mechanic, the lawyer and the the doctor. As one drops out another of like sort occu- pies his place and runs the same course. The fierce com- petition, stimulated by want of bread and greed for mon- ey, seems to mold humanity into certain shapes that remain the same. Everything about us indicates the great city ; Boston, Philadelphia and Baltimore are vil- lages in comparison. This is not the hub — it is the heart, and through it pulsates our world. Stand there two hours and you will meet every one you know in New York. Stand there a year, and you will meet every one you know in the United States. There is no desire, however wicked, no wish, however impure, that cannot be gratified within the corporate limits of this sinful place. Its lost women would make a populous town, if collected to themselves. Its thieves, pickpock- ets and burglars would form an army, if recruited and organized for that purpose. Its luxury rivals that of Europe, and its poverty swings down to the lowest depths of human degradation ; but in its romance of real life New York stands pre-eminent. The strangest characters come to the surface, play their eccentric parts, and disappear to give place to others equally strange. The millionaire of to-day, who inhabits a palace, was an unknown adventurer yesterday, and may be a beggar to-morrow. There are miles on miles of the most gor- geous habitations, in which the average duration of residence does not exceed five years. They come and bloom, and flourish, and disappear in such quick suc- cession that one is dazzled by the glare and light of its splendor." During my sojourn in the empire city of America I 452 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; often tliouglit of those beautiful lines written by "Miss Barrett" which run as follows : — I dwell amid the city, And hear the flow of souls ! I do not hear the several contraries I do not hear the separate tone that rolls In art or speech. For pomp or trade, for merrymake or folly, I hear the confluence and sum of each, And that is melancholy ! — Thy voice is a complaint, O crowned city. The blue sky covering thee, like God's great pity. How many were the suggestive thoughts that filled my mind, and awakened every feeling of delight, of sad- ness, as I gazed into the cheerful, and into the pallid faces of the people who thronged this famous city. Looking calmly Upon the world, I saw its nothingness, its cold uncheering sympathy. And I thought of the duties that all are bound by Christian love and charity to perform, the good we can do for each other, have we a desire. My thoughts wandered into the palaces of the rich, where I saw discontent, luxury, and extravagance. Looking into the humble homes of the poor, I realizea theu* miseries, misfortunes, poverty. Have you ever thought of the poor, the helpless widows, the sick, and those whose hearts are faint and weaiy over misfortunes that never cease ; of the homeless, the friendless 'i God bless them as do we. If not, think of them to-night ; think of them in the days of prosperity, in the hour of success ; when we hear the stonii beating upon our hab- itations, and yet are securely sheltered, warmed, and OR, JOSIE, THE IIEKOITs^E OF FLORENCE. 453 abundantly fed, let us remember them. How little do we know of the miseries that continually surround us. We consider our own position a hard one ; we lament over our trials and troubles ; we believe all are happier than we. Yet there are millions of people who suffer greater afflictions ; whose labors, anxieties, perplexities, and discouragements are so numerous as to almost seem endless ; whose hearts are stabbed with new sor- rows every day, and who suffer only as the God of pity understands. Besides this, think of all the people who suffer perpetually, but in silence. There is much pain that is quite noiseless, and vibrations that make human agonies are often a mere whisper in the roar of hurrying existence. There are glances of hatred that stab and raise no cry of murder ; robberies that leave man or woman forever beggered of peace and joy, yet kept secret by the sufferer — committed to no sound ex- cept that of low moans in the night — seen in no writing except that made on the face by the slow months of sup- pressed anguish and early morning tears. Many an inherited sorrow that has marred a life, has been breathed into no human ear, but borne in silence. If we are rich we are overburdened with responsibility, anxiety and care. If we are poor, our poverty is our misery. What we all lack is content. No matter what may betide us in life, we should live for a purpose, and seek to be happy. If sometimes we stumble, and hurt ourselves as we fall upon the rough stepping stones on our journey of life, let us not give up, but remember that God protects ,the brave. He will not forsake us, even though the world and our friends cease to help or recognize us. All ships that are wrecked at sea do not perish, some reach port in 454 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; safety, and when tlieii' injuries are repaired, appear again more powerful than ever. So it is with us ; every storm of misery ; every misfortune ; every hard- ship that we endure, should serve to strengthen our purpose, and give new life and hope to all our under- takings. If people could but see or know the one hundredth part of the crimes that are committed, the dissipation that exists, the unhappy homes, and the wives and mothers who suffer as a consequence of these miseries, how many would rejoice and be happy. How much there is to be learned in the study of human nature, its beauty, its mysteries. How eloquent, how sad. Read well the book of every day life wherein our every day' s doings are recorded. Turn over its numberless pages and read their headings, dissipation, drunkenness, men ruined by bad associates, too much society and amuse- ment, fondness of the world, the result. Turn over more pages, look into those gambling hells, those places of crime, the very name of which makes one shudder ; look into those ball-alleys, those billiard rooms, and a thousand other places of a similar character, where tens of thousands of our young men are going to destruc- tion, wearing away their lives as though they were noth- ing, disregarding all advice, and lowering themselves deeper and deeper into an infamous cesspool of dissi- pation and misery, with a rapidity that begars dis- cription. Look further on still, turn a few pages more, and see how an unthinking world drives madly along ; rioting, impovershing, ruining, drinking up their substance, filling the land with crime, sorrow and wretchedness. Yet so it is. What is the result ? It is summed up in blighted hopes, saddened homes, OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 456 ruined fortunes, broken hearts, crime, debauchery, deg- radation, dishonor and finally death ! How little do we know the world ourselves. How many good wives sit up with sleepless eyes, with anxious hopes and fears, until twelve o'clock at night, yes, until one and two in the morning, wearily waiting for the return of their husbands from some pretended business? Who can conjecture the thoughts of such a wife, the pain she en- dures? The hours pass by slowly. As morning ap- proaches, how she counts every minute, every second, while her brave heart grows sick and despondent. Where is her husband ? What is his pretended busi- ness ? It certainly cannot be legitimate if it keeps him so late. Let us see. Where is he ? Ah, we find him in a saloon, perhaps in a worse place. "Husbands should sympathize with their wives in all their cares and labors. Men are apt to forget, in the perplexities and annoyances of business, that home cares are also annoying, and try the patience and the strength of their wives. They come home expecting sympathy and attention, but are too apt to have none to give. A single kindly word or look that tells his thought of her and her troubles, would lift half the weight of care from her heart. Men should show their love for their wives in constant attentions in their man- ner of treating them, and in the thousand and one tri- fling offices of affection which may be hardly noticeable, but which make all the difference between a sad and undefined longing, and cheery, happy existence. Above all, men should beware of treating their wives with rudeness and incivility, as if they were the only persons not entitled to their consideration and respect. They should think of their sensitive feelings and their 456 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; need of sympathy, and "never let the fire of love go out, or cease to show that the flame is burning with un- abated fervor." If there is any misunderstanding, or the slightest illfeeling existing between you and your wife, which feeling sometimes animates you to do HTong, or to dissipate, become reconciled at once. We must forgive, as we expect to be forgiven. We must overlook other' s faults as we expect others to overlook ours. None of us are perfect. This very night, before you lay your head upon your pillow to seek the God dess sleep, settle all disputes, acknowledge your wrong doings, your neglect, your unkindness, and endeavor to do better for the futui-e. Let your hearts be united, never again to be torn asunder. If you love your wite, love her more ; be kind to her, and sh^ will be kind in return. He who has a good wife is truly blessed, for the value of such a woman cannot be estimated. A very eloquent and well known divine writes thus : "A good wife is Heaven's last, best gift to man — his angel and minister of graces innumerable — his gem of many virtues — his casket of jewels. Her voice is sweet music — her smiles his brightest day — her kiss the guardian of his innocence — her arms the pale of his safety, the balm of his health, the balsam of his life — her industry his surest wealth — her economy his safest steward — her lips his most faithful counsellors — her bosom the safest pillow of his cares — and her prayers the ablest advocate of Heaven's blessing on his head." " And say, without our hopes, without our fears, Without the home that plighted love endears, Without the smile from partial beauty won, Oh ! what were man ? — a world wfthout a sun. OR, JOSIE, THE lIEPvOINE OF FLORENCE, 457 The world was sad ! — the garden was a wild ! And man, the hermit, sigh'd — till woman smiled.' As yet, we have addressed ourselves directly but little to our young folks. To them we would like to say much, but cannot, it is not our theme. What a great difference there is in young ladies— in young men. How true — how false. How we wish they were all good, as they might be. If young ladies only knew the power of their influence, and would use their influ- ence rightly, they could accomplish wonders. How many there are who would heed their advice, when they would scoff at the advice of others. How many young men they might save, wlio are going headlong to ruin through dissipation, by a single word of cheer and con- solation. Never befere has there been such an extensive field for the display of womanly interest and affection. Never before was the co-operation of woman so much needed in the reform of our young men and society, as to-day. To procrastinate means defeat. Unfurl your banners, then, and commence the work. Let your weapons be those which save ; not those which destroy. Let them be words of advice and sympathy, polished with a true woman' s charity and love. Encourage truth, industry and integrity. Open your doors to those who would do better, who would be good. Let intelligence and virtue be the key to society, in place of wealth. And in performing this duty, which God designed you should perfoiTti, you will win the love and respect of all mankind. Yes, many are the mothers and fathers who will bless you for the redemption of their sons, and they themselves will bear you in remembrance long after you are dead, or they themselves have been carried to the 58 458 SOUTHERN PRisoisrs ; grave. As soon as a young man falls into error, or intemperance, society says, " Down with him !" The world says, "Down with him!" This is not in accordance with the spirit of Christianity, but contrary to the teachings of Christ, of humanity. If these be our principles, religion and all its teachings is an infamous farce. We might just as well close our church doors against all sinners ; the principle is the same. We were created to love and help one another ; to take care of the weak and helpless ; to advise those who stray from the path of virtue and righteousness, and through our own good example, persuade them to return to the fold of Christ. We are commanded to assist the poor, not the rich. We are told to preach to the sinners, not to the just. If we offer our sympathy to a drowning man, he derives no benefit ; if we lend him a hand, we may save him. So it is with our young men. We should not shut our doors against them for the simple reason that they are becoming dissipated ; neither should we shun their society, but rather seek it, for in doing so we make them better. We should open our doors — our hearts. We should speak kindly to them — tell them how, if they continue the course they are pursuing, they will lose the respect of their friends, society, and all who love good behavior and true manli- ness. Young men would love you all the more — would oftener seek your company — your advice — were you to speak to them in this generous, womanly manner, and persuade them to study self-promotion, in place of self- destruction. Young ladies should also be charitable. They should visit the sick and the poor. We know that there are many of you who do, yet there are many who have means and much time, and do not. This OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 459 should be your first duty. If you would win the esteem and affection — the respect and love of our nobler young men, you must do it by the performance of good deeds — not by your extravagance in dress. " Female loveli- ness never appears to so good advantage as when set off by simplicity of dress. A vulgar taste is not to be disguised by gold or diamonds. The absence of a true taste, and real refinement and delicacy, can- not be compensated for by the possession of the most princely fortune. Mind measures gold, but gold cannot measure mind. Dress shows character, and through it can be read the feeble or stable mind. A modest woman will dress modestly ; and a really refined and intellectual woman will bear the marks of careful selection and fault- less taste." Young ladies deceive themselves greatly when they think that by the splendor of their dress, the glittering of diamond rings on delicate fingers, their aristocratic manners, pleasant smiles and coquetish ways, in which there is nothing but nonsense and decep- tion to be found, they will win the hearts of men. This is a great mistake, ana no greater was ever made. Men of deep thought and culture look higher and for some- thing more than mere dress and pretty faces. If women were to spend less time with such things, and more time in improving their minds, their conduct would, we are sure, be oftener applauded. If you wish to be honored, respected and loved by all, be virtuous, plain but taste- ful in your dress, careful in your language and pleasing in your conversation ; be good, and let all your deeds be accompanied by charity. Perform all your duties, no matter how simple, in a pleasant manner, and show due respect to all to whom respect is due ; be social, kind. 460 souTHEiiisr prisons ; generous, loving, and we promise yon that the truly wise and great man will love to linger in your presence. We will now ojffer a few suggestions, and a few words of kind advice to our young men. We do it because we know they will appreciate our purpose, and listen to what we have to say. Above all others we think of them the most. We could do anything for a young man who will try to do something for himself. The writer is also a young man, one who left home at the tender age of twelve, to face the stormy battle of life ; to combat with its discouragements, its labors ; to stand up against the pitiless and destructive waves of misfortune ; to face, with true manly courage, its difficulties, its cold want of sympathy ; without a dollar, without a friend but Him who is the friend of all. Inexperienced, unaccustomed to any kind of labor ; knowing little about the world or the hardships he was about to undergo, he launched his frail bark upon the ocean of life ; with a good com- pass, he steered his own ship, and though thousands of others upon the same voyage ran ashore, or capsized upon the fated rocks of those deep and dangerous waters, he has weathered every storm. In the gloomy hour of despair, when the whole face of nature wore its shroud of darkness, and it seemed to him as if the sun would never shine again, he stood firmly at Ijis post, and in the performance of his duty, overcame every obstacle. The first thing that a young man should do after he has had the necessary experience, and feels himself capable, is to choose a business. A man without an object in life is nobody. He might well be compared with the laborer who has no trade ; who, when he gets out of a situation, is glad to work at anything, or for any one that wiU give him emj)loyment. There is a class OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 461 of this kind of young men in all large cities, no matter where you go. They have just got education enough to spoil them. Tliey think they know everything, and know little or nothing. They are either too proud or too lazy to work, and never make a dollar but they spend it as soon as they get it. They are usually fond of amusements and society ; they are over-fond of dress, and when w^ell known, are generally fast and dissipated. These young men may possibly earn a living ; but that is all. They never become popular, or get into business for themselves. If we wish to be successful in our busi- ness career, we must be wise, and select a vocation early. We must find out what we are the best fitted for ; whether it be this or that peculiar kind of business. A man may be capable of doing a little of everything, and yet thoroughly competent in nothing. Take your choice of one from all the different kinds of trades and professions ; know that you like it, and then push on Go to it with the express determination to remain in it, to follow it for life. Some day you will excel ; you cannot help it ; and when that day comes, if not before, you will be your own master. Take, for instance, the merchants of our city, the lawyer, doctor, the mechanic, the artist ; any of them or all of them, who are doing business for themselves, or stand at the head of their jM-ofession, to-day. Exam- ine their histories, and learn a lesson and remember it. Here is a dry-goods merchant ; years ago he was a poor clerk ; he worked hard and late ; he took an interest in his employers business, and as a consequence, his employer took an interest in him. He was sober, honest and industrious ; little by little he advanced himself,— climbed up. After a while he was given an interest in the concern, and finally became its sole proprietor. 462 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; Take the wealthy mechanics of to-day. How did they get up in the world ? By honest toil. They served their time as apprentices, and for long years they worked in the shop, over fire and smoke, and by their industry and economy, together with their ability, were enabled to start for themselves, and have thus amassed the wealth they now possess. The successful man of a profession lived in his library, and while others were sleeping, he toiled with his brain over books and documents. So it is with every man in business, no matter what that busi- ness may be ; if he attains to anything ; if he would rise above the common level of men, he must do it through his own energies ; he must plan, plod, save up whatever he makes, be wise in his expenditures, have a chosen vocation, and remain in it. Young men, as a general rule, do not use good judg- ment in the choosing of their vocation ; and we regret to say that they too often over-estimate their own ability, or fail to estimate it high enough. They all want to be lawyers, doctors, financiers, politicians, orators, editors, or something of the kind, no matter whether they are fitted for those professions or not. Anything to avoid labor. Remember, professional life of every kind, in this country is overdone. The man who succeeds in busi- ness, cares little about what people may say or think as to the vocation he chooses. If we do not have a fixed purpose in life ; something to live for, something upon which we can lavish all our energies, and bring into action every capability of the mind and human reason, we cannot expect to be successful. This one important step shapes our future. We must aspire to something, or we will always be nothing. We like to see a young man aspire high ; it is a good sign. Let your motto be. OR, JOSIE THE HEROINE OP FLOREITCE 463 truth, honesty and industry. Whatever you undertake to do, do it, and with all your might. Be generous, good, social. Avoid dissipation, be careful of the com- pany you keep, and do not be hasty in making friends. Learn to be patient. Do not expect to accomplish won- ders in a moment. Never despair ; men's days cannot always be clouded and fruitless. Learn to appreciate the value of time, and never be idle a minute ; always try to keep busy. Read good books ; cultivate the mind at every opportunity. Read good solid literature ; history, works on art and science. Have the manly courage to resist the temptations of society. Have a mind of your own, and rule it. Let your amusements be few and rational. Travel all you can ; learn to be observing. Wherever you go, never neglect visiting those sepulchres of learning, the great libraries of our country. Keep thoroughly informed upon all the topics of the day. Learn to speak correctly, and, if possible, converse fluently. Attend to your business closely. Work hard, and, if necessary, late. Learn to save what you make, and make something from what you save. And above all, choose a vocation and remain in it. *' Step among your neighbors, reader," says an able writer, " and see whether those among them who have got along smoothly, and accumulated property, and gained a good name, have not been men who bent them- selves to one single branch of business ; who brought all their forces to bear upon one point, and built on one foundation. It must be so. Go out in the spring, when the sun is yet far distant, and you can scarcely feel the influence of its beams, scattered as they are over the wide face of creation ; but collect those beams to a focuSj and they .kindle up a flame in an instant. So the man 464 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; that squanders his talents and his strength in many- things, will fail to make an impression with either ; but let him draw them to a point, let him strike at a single object, and it will yield before him." "The success and happiness of every individual," says another writer, ' ' depend much upon the degree to which he recognizes this great truth, and earnestly acts upon it. He who perceives the true value and dignity of labor, will also see, that to extract its full benefits, he must choose Ms work wisely and perform it worthily. Although every species of rightful labor is honorable, yet that only will reflect honor on the individual for which he is fitted." Above all, we must use self- exertion, if we would wish to be anything in life. "The value of self-exertion appears nowhere more decidedly than when we follow the track of those who became eminent without having the advantage ground of instruction from which to start. There is scarcely anything more gratifying to the mind than the well- written life of a person whose intellectual struggles through every difiiculty, arising from want of books, want of examples, want of patronage, and who, notwithstanding these impediments, continues to struggle till he triumphantly emerges into notice. Art surrenders some of her choicest secrets, science smiles, and fame, or emolument, or both, place the successful experimenter far above common names. Not scantily are the niches in the temple of Fame filled wdth lasting memorials of persons thus claiming theii* well-deserved honors — persons who have been the boast and blessing of their day, by dint of unsubdued patience, fortitude and viva- cious genius. Every department of art and science is filled with them. Their stimulating examples are on every hand. From the lowest rank of life they start OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 465 forth. They break all the shackles of ignorance. The repulsive frowns of the crowd cannot daunt them. The fears of the timorous they do not listen to. Determined to excel, they do excel. Their native energies urge them forward in the honorable career, till success, more or less complete, crowns their glowing efforts. The maxim that "every man is the architect of his own fortune," has been strikingly verified and illustrated in the history of American statesmen. Very few of the fathers of our republic were the inheritors of distinction. Washington was almost the only gentleman by right of birth in all that astonishing company of thinkers and actors. Two or three Virginians, John Jay, of New York, and half a dozen meaner men from other provinces, were exceptions. But Franklin was a printer's boy; Sherman a shoemaker ; Knox was a book-binder ; Green a blacksmith ; John Adams and Marshall, the sons of poor farmers ; and Hamilton, the most subtle, fiery and electrical, but at the same time the most composed and orderly genius of all, excepting the unapproachable chief, was of as humble parentage as the rest, and him- self at the beginning a clerk or a shopkeeper. And if we come down to a later period, Daniel Webster was the son of a farmer, and was rescued from the occupation of a drover only by the shrewd observation of Christopher Gk)re, whom he called upon for advice respecting a difficulty arising from the sale of a pair of steers ; and John C. Calhoun was the son of a tanner and currier ; the father of Henry Clay belonged to the poorer class of Baptist ministers ; Martin Van Buren, during the fitful leisure of the day, gathered pine knots to light his eve- ning studies ; Thomas Corwin was a wagoner ; Silas Wright, by heritage a machinist. In later times we have 59 466 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; had Lincoln of ttie flat-boat ; Johnson, the tailor ; Grant, the tanner ; Wilson, the shoemaker' s apprentice ; and many others among our statesmen who received the applause and reverence of mankind, passed their earlier years at what, in other countries, would be almost impassable distances from the eminence which they now enjoy. In the old monarchies the question is. What is your pedigree? or, Who were your progenitors? Here, in our republic, the question is. What have you done ? what are you doing ? at what do you aim ? To do, to grow, to improve, and become all that God intended us is our privilege, our right and our duty." " God helps those who help themselves." We would like to say much more to our young men, but cannot ; we have already taken too much space for this purpose, and must now conclude ; but before we close the subject, let us say to you, in the eloquent lan- guage of an able writer : " Work. Strengthen your moral and intellectual fac- xdties as you would strengthen your muscles by vigor- ous exercise. Learn to conquer circumstances ; you are then independent of fortune. The men of athletic minds, who have left their marks on the years in which they lived, were all trained in a rough school. They did not mount their high positions by the help of lever- age. They leaped into chasms, grappled with opposing rocks, avoided avalanches, and when the goal was reach- ed, felt that but for the toil that had strengthened them as they strove, it could never have been attained. Rely on your own strength of body and soul. Take for your motto, self-reliance, honesty and industry; for your star, faith, perseverence and pluck ; and inscribe on your OB, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 467 banner, *'be just and fear>ot." Don't take to mucli advice ; keep at the helm and steer your own ship. Strike out. Think well of yourself. Fire above the mark you intend to hit. Assume your position. Don't practice excessive humility— you can't get above your level; vvT.tor don't runup-hill; put potatoes in a cart over a rough road, and the small ones will go to the bottom. Energy, invincible determination, with a right motive, are the levers that rule the world." " If, in years of fierce endeavor, All your efforts have been vain, Struggle on, believing ever That the victory you will gain. Are you friendless? You can conquer Foes without and foes within. What are trials, pain and hunger, When there is a prize to win ? Noble natures prove ascendant In the world's ignoble strife, And true courage is descendant Of the dauntless souls in life. On life's changeful scene of action. Though defeat may ofb appear. Laurels, prizes, wealth and station, Are for those who persevere." If we wish to pass the ordeal of honor, friendship, virtue, we must be open without levity, generous with- out waste, secret without craft, humble without mean- ness, bold without insolence, cautious without anxiety, regular, yet not formal, mild, yet, not timid, and firm, yet not tyrannical. The bitter word is not the strongest word. The greatest vigor of thought or act is not vio- 468 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; lent ; it breaks no law of courtesy. The lightning is silent and playful. It is the rent and wounded air that wails in thunder. But, to close this long digression and return to the great metropolis. As a whole, the impression which New York left up- on me was that of a gigantic trading mart, a city of vast wealth, the commercial emporium of the land, its streets lined with palaces, its suburbs filled with beautiful parks and places of resort ; but as being the most cor- rupt, the most godless, the most fruitful in poverty and wickedness, of all the great cities which I have ever visited; March 1st I went to Philadelphia. I found in it a marked contrast to New York, though it has probably, fully two-thirds of the population ot the latter city. It has great extent, peopel, being by no means so densely crowded together as in New York. Beautiful and broad avenues, innumerable manufactures, and hosts of delightful suburban villages. Yet, despite the great amount of business which is unquestionably done there, it is not an emporium, as is its great rival. Notwith- standing it possesses an outlet to the sea, it has compa- ratively no shipping. Its interests are almost altogether of a manufacturing and interior order. Compared to New York, it is dull, slow, lifeless; and yet it is a pleasant city, one fair to look upon, and one in which it miist be pleasant to have a home. March 4th I went to Baltimore, thence to Washington, from which point I was sent to Columbus, O., again, and stationed at the Parole Camp, mentioned already. March 25th I started once more for my regiment, arrived at Washington March 28th, and arrived at City Point, on OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 469 the James, April 1st, and April 7tli I was once more with my old regiment, the Seventeenth, then encamped on Beasley' s Farm, near Petersburg, for a time performing duty as provost guard. The first one who welcomed me upon my arrival was Col. F. W. Swift, formerly Captain of my Company, but who had been promoted, during my absence, to the position of Lieut. Colonel, for his bravery, and at the time was in full command of the regiment. He also had been a prisoner of war, for three months, and was confined at Macon, Ga., and Charleston, S. C. To say the least of him, as an officer he had no superior of his rank ; first at his duty ; first in battle ; and forever watching over and caring for the welfare of his men. I was at once informed that I had been promoted to Sergeant, and I reluctantly assumed that duty. After a hearty shaking of hands with my old comrades, and a pleasant chat over the past, I joined a foraging party, taking charge of the squad ; and I can only say, that after our return, I could vouch for the remarks of one of our sqtiad, that there was not a hen-roost nor a milk-house within twelve miles of our camp that we had not honored with a visit. But, alas! how things had changed during my absence. When we left the city of Detroit, for the battle-field, we numbered nearly a thousand men ; now scarcely one hundred of the old members of the regi- ment could be found. Some had died of disease ; while the greater portion had been struck down amidst the storm of battle. Among the few who remained, however, I found dear friends, not the least of whom was William Winegar, who resides at Grass Lake, Mich., and who was Second Lieutenant in my Company at the time of my capture. During my absence, however, he was 470 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; promoted to be First Lieutenant, and subsequently to the position of Captain, He was a brave and efficient officer, and very much, beloved by Ms Mends. ARMY LIFE. Army life, in many respects is a delightful life, though hard and hazardous ; and to the young man Yfho loves travel and excitement, as well as the romantic and adventurous, it furnishes a broad field in which to gratify his ambition. There is a dark and a bright side, however, to army life, and though the men invariably tried to appear contented and happy, thoir hearts were often heavy and their thoughts sad. Yet there is some- thing fascinating about it. The changable scenes ; the constant motion ; in this Stato to-day, in another to-morrow ; facing the enemy one minute, the next participating in never-to-be-forgotten pleasures and amusements ; traveling by steamboat to-day, by cars to-morrow ; the next day on foot, or perhaps on horse- back; last night quartered in barracks, to-night in small tents ; on the Ohio river yesterday, now on the Mississippi ; heavy marching orders last week, six days' rations and a kit weighing sixty pounds to carry ; to-day light marching orders, carrying nothing with us but gun and cartridges, and traveling thirty-five miles ; on camp guard to-day, to-morrow night on picket. Such is a soldier's life. Then come the terrific scenes of the battle-field, the hospital and the camp. The camp scenes are particularly affecting and amusing. Here you see a squad of men playing cards, another over there playing chess, and still another at a game of checkers. Then there comes the rousing out early in the morning, the day' s march ; perhaDS we have fought OE, JOSIE, THE HEKOIKE OF FLORENCE. 471 a battle and won the good fight ; it makes no difference, the shades of night bring us rest, and we are happy. How, when night does come, the boys crowd around the camp-fires, or under the shady trees, and relate anecdotes, stories, tales of old, and sing songs, till they hear the stern order, "put out your lights," then retire. What a sight it is to view a division or corps drilling ; the glittering of their bayonets and swords, the clash of arms, the galloping of aids-de-camp, together with the shining of thousands of ornaments, the flags of various States, etc. These truly compose a beautiful spectacle. In the army there is no end to picturesque scenes and exciting moments. Look upon the soldiers' camp from a distance ; how delightful ! Right and left, for miles, perhaps as far as the eye can see, the ground is covered with little white tents, each of which contains one or more soldiers. How I remember the imposing appear- ance of Burnside's corps, at Pleasant Valley, Md. I recall how it made my heart thrill to look upon that camp of veterans. The stillness and total seclusion of the scene ; the beauty of those stupendous mountains, the gloomy grandeur of the woods, togetker with that monument of glory so nobly won by those brave soldiers, diff'used a sacred enthusiasm over the mind, and awa- kened sensations truly sublime. Then there was the general review of Gen. McClellan's army of eighty thousand men, previous to the Peninsular Campaign ; the grand review in Washington, at the closing of the war, and of which 1 shall speak more fully hereafter. These were sights the grandeur of which will probably never be seen again or equaled among us perhaps in all time to come, and those who witnessed them will carry the remembrance of these scenes to their graves. Among 472 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; all the varied scenes which army life presents, too, T have never found the masses of the private soldiers unequal to the emergency. Exceptional cases of cow- ardice or inefficiency have been found among the men, as among the officers ; but as a rule, the men never shirked or refused to meet any danger to which they were led. The praises of individual leaders, and of the officers of the army at large, have been appropriately sung, but the deeds of the rank and file of the Union army have been but faintly portrayed. To the soldiers of the war individual honors can only be paid by friends to whom their gallantry was personally known ; but the great armies of the North, and every man, in what- ever rank, who in them held an honorable position and discharged his duty, will never be forgotten by the nation. Their heroism, their devotion to duty, and their self-sacrifice, will ever be remembered with affection and their deeds will always be known as the greatest of those which have glorified the history of the country. During the period while I was a soldier in the army ; that is, during the one year that I served as a private soldier in the Sixteenth Michigan Infantry, at the begin- ning of the war, and the three years that I served in the Seventeenth, I traveled over twenty -five different States, and had the pleasure of visiting forty-six of the largest cities in America. When I look back and think of those long, weary marches, those moments of despair, those days of toil and bloodshed ; when I review the pleasant scenes of the evening camp-fires — the glorious battles — the furious charges of infantry and cavalry ; the disasters and the victories of the past ; the scenes of travel, — the lakes, rivers and rivulets; the mountain scenery, with its deep, dark recesses, its mossy rocks OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 473 and gorgeous crystal springs of the most dolightful water ; when I look back upon all those mysteries of the days gone-by ; the sufferings, perils, and the delight- ful pleasures and adventures which accompanied them, it seems like a dream. Yet sometimes, when I recall them to memory and think them over, the old spirit which animated me then returns, and I am forced to look back upon them, not only with regret, but with profound admiration. My experience, during those four long years of service in the army, to me is beyond value. Of human nature I learned much, while I expe- rienced and witnessed no little share of life in all its various forms. In a word, I saw something of the world, its follies, its' prodigality, its beauty and its glowing grandeur. THE POETRY AND REALITY OF WAR. "Amid the general routine of camp life," says W. W. Lyle, "as well as amid the exciting and perilous scenes of the battle-field, there is much to interest and instruct. There is no scene, however dark ; no duty, however perilous ; no circumstances, however doubtful or ominous, and no movement, however complicated or mysterious, but to the reflecting mind is significant and impressive. The poetry of war ! exclaims some one, in surprise. Has war anything poetic about it ? Yes, it has ; but, as poetry is essentially ideal, not actual, so the poetry of war is war only in idea. There is a great difference between the ideal and the actual in everything ; and that which is simply ideal is one thing, and that which is actual is entirely another. Ideal wars, as presented to us on the pages of the historian, the canvas of the 60 474 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; painter, or the dashing, brilliant, spirited letters of "spe- cial correspondents,'' are \^astly diiferent from actual war, as exhibited on the battle-field and in the hospital. Ideal war has tinsel and plumes, waving banners and hashing swords, wreaths of flowers and silver medals, and the plaudits of brave men and the smiles of beau- tiful women. Actual war has hunger and thirst, cold and weariness. It has the saber- stroke deep in the quivering flesh, and the bayonet-thrust in the beating heart. It has the bursting shell and the hissing shots crashing and tearing through solid ranks of living men, like the furious storm-blast in the forest. It has ghastly wounds, and " garments rolled in blood," the agonizing cry of the wounded, and the stifled moan of the dying. It has the crowded hospital, with wearisome days and still more wearisome nights for the sick and wounded, and where oftentimes — as after battle — every look seems to be agony, and every word a suppressed groan, a petition for help, or a cry for mercy. It has the tearful eyes of those who look wistfully for absent ones who will return no more, and it has the sad, sad sigh of burdened, broken hearts. It has Rachels weeping for their children, and refusing to be comforted because they are not. It has lonely widows and desolate orphans. And whosoever may causelessly and wickedly initiate war, has the execration of all the truly good, and the curse of a righteous Grod. Even when waged for a good cause — when it is for the defence of truth and righteousness, and is absolutely necessary to roll back the dark tide-wave of human oppression, and to destroy the foulest treason — war is still a terrible reality, as the bloody fields of a hundred hard-fought battles in the late rebellion has showed us. OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 475 Glad though I was that our arms had been successful — that the wily, unscrupulous foe had been driven back — it was, nevertheless, with saddened heart that I g-azed upon the fearful scene of the rebellion. Time and again I felt to say, " O ! Prince of Peace ; come once more to our bleeding country, and say to the waves of strife, ' Be still !' 15 5? "MY BROTHER! MY DEAR BROTHER!" Would that my pen con Id paint a picture seen on the held where our regiment had been engaged. While passing through a clump of laurel bushes, through which the skirmishers had been pushed forward, on the afternoon of the previous day, I found a member of our regiment leaning over the dead body of a brother soldier, while the tears were trickling over his cheeks. The countenance of the dead was calm and placid, as if stilled in sweet repose, or as if lighted up with the sun- shine of happy dreams. At first sight I could hardly believe that from that body, apparently just composed to sleep, the spark of life had fled forever. But so it was. A fragment of shell or a grapeshot had crashed through the side and back of liis head, tearing away a large portion of the brain,- but lea\ang the face untouched. And there leaned, or rather knelt, the brother of the fallen soldier, his hands pressed upon his face, and the hot tears trickling between his fingers — weeping as only brave men weep — and exclaiming, "My brother! O, my dear brother !" That scene was too sacred for intrusion. Words of common condolence would have jarred like a discord amid the subdued tones of anguish that burst from the lips of the living over the placid face of the dead. In 476 SOUTHEKIf PRISONS ; its sublime pathos — its mingled bravery and affection, manly courage and womanly tenderness — it was one of those scenes that cannot be described, and which the beholder feels to be so sacred that he must needs draw a vail over it, lest it be profaned by the gaze of some thoughtless intruder. It reminded me of that scene once beheld on the gloomy mountains of Gilboa, the very thought of which wrung from the heart of the poet, warrior and king a requiem for the fallen hero, so inimitably touching and tender that it will find an echo in every generous, manly bosom till the end of time. THE GREAT MARCH, AND THE FALLING WATERS. Wearily they moved on, for the column had been marching from early morn ; along dusty roads, and literally in a dry and thirsty land, where there was no water. It was now a little past the hour of noon, and the blazing sun shone out fiercely in a cloudless sky. Many a strong-hearted soldier had fainted by the way- side — for his canteen was empty, his lips were dry and parched, and he was foot-sore and weary. "Water! Water!" was the great cry. "Water! anjrthing for water, and some shady place in which to rest !" More and more intensely did the sun shine out from the brazen sky, while the earth seemed to glow like a furnace. The dry, hot dust, flung up by thousands of feet, irrita- ted the throat and lungs, at the same time increasing the intolerable thirst under which all were suffering. Onward and still onward pressed the men, wearily and in pain, while the dust, increasing in heat and quantity, threatened to suffocate them at every step. Not a breath of air seemed to be stirring. The very leaves on the low shrubs, and the grass by the wayside, seemed to partakt OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 477 of the general depression and suffering, and looked drooping and dying. Thus mile after mile of the weary way was traversed, and hour succeeded hour, as if each one was an age, and impressions of suffering and utter exhaustion were made so deeply on the minds of all, that time will never efface them. Suddenly we entered a narrow defile, through which the road wound, and, as if by magic, or like the creations of some fairy tale, a cool and fragrant breeze began to fan our cheeks. Presently the bugle, at the head of the column, sounded the welcome "Halt!" followed by the still more welcome "Rest!" On marching forv/ard a few paces, to where there was a general and frantic rush, I beheld a scene of such beauty and interest that I will never forget it till my dying day. We had entered a somewhat rocky pass, or gap, shaded on one side by hemlocks and cedars, "arrayed," literally, "in living green." On the left was a cool, shady glen, or grotto, scooped out deep in the mountainside — semicircular in form, or shaped somewhat like a horseshoe. The face of this grotto, composed of solid rock, rose like a massive wall, sixty or eighty feet high, and terminated in an evergreen crown of cedars and hemlocks. The wall itself was literally covered, from base to summit, with moss, and flowers, and evergreens, among which bloomed, in rich profusion, the beautiful wild honeysuckle, which hung in gay festoons from every crag and crevice. This was a grotto which the hand of man had never made, and those were flowers and shrubs which he had never planted. Ages ago, God himself had scooped it out of the solid rock, and clothed its granite walls with fragrant flowers, vvMch bloomed and faded, and bloomed again, as successive seasons rolled on, long before the foot of 478 SOUTHEKN PRISONS ; man had disturbed its quiet solitudes. But there were other charms, and, if possible, richer beauties still. At the further end of this lovely scene, and from an eleva- tion of perhaps thirty or forty feet, there issued a stream of cool, pure water, clear as crystal. As it descended from ' ' the cleft of the rock, ' ' which was nearly concealed by the overhanging flowers and shrubs, it divided into a number of little rivulets, which, in contrast with the green foliage around, looked like so many rills of liquid silver. At each one of these silvery "shady rills," stood, or kneeled, or lay, groups of weary, thirsty soldiers, eagerly quafl&ng the precious beverage, as if determined never to be thirsty again. A murmur of intense satisfaction and delight was heard on every side. It seemed as if all felt that that sublimely beautiful scene had in it more of heaven than earth ; and so strong, seemingly, were the feelings awakened in each bosom, that a kind of holy awe, a subdued, sacred admiration, filled each heart. O, how welcome to those exhausted, thirsty men, was that "shadow of a great rock in a weary land?" How refreshing those cool and sparkling waters, which gushed forth so full, free and abundant, from that flower-festooned rock ! And how impressive the scene, too, when those exhausted, thirsty soldiers reached forth with such feverish eagerness, to drink, and drink, and drink again ! How they bathed their hot, feverish brows, or stooped under the shelving rocks, and allowed the cooling waters to fall upon them ! How it seemed as if every leaf, and spray, and flower, were in sympathy with the gladsome scene, while the dancing sunbeams looked like rays of glory streaming down through the leafy openings above, and the songs of the birds, far away in the cool green- OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 479 wood, seemed to be the sweet melodies of the better land! REBEL BARBARITIES ON THE FIELD. From the first shot which the rebels fired at Fort Sumter, till the close of the war, the slaveholders' rebellion, in all its phases, has been but one continuous and fearful history of cowardly brutality and barbarism. War, at any time, in any country, and under any circumstances, is fearful, cruel, and unnatural. But fearful, cruel and unnatural as it undoubtedly is, even when conducted with some little regard to the claims of common humanity, how terrible must it be when vindic- tive cruelty, that should cause the cheeks of savages to blush with shame, is permitted to glut itself with insults, injuries, and even death, on a fallen and helpless foe ! When the atrocities perpetratf'd during the Sepoy rebel- lion in India were first made known, all Christendom stood aghast at the fearful tale of wholesale butchery and fiendish cruelty. It was supposed that such scenes had never been enacted in the history of the world, and, possibly, never would be again. But, horrible as the cruelties perpetrated by the frenzied Sepoys were, they have been completely eclipsed, a thousand times, by the conduct of the Rebels, since they began their causeless and wicked rebellion. With but few exceptions, they have never evinced the least feeling of honor or mercy — even of common humanity — towards those of the Union army that have fallen into their hands. After our army, under Thomas, and Sherman, and Hooker, had driven Bragg from Lookout and Mission Ridge, and sent him, reeling and discomfited, beyond the mountain fastnesses of northern Georgia, the Chick- 480 SOUTHERN PRISONS; amauga battle-field was tlien seen as a terrible record of worse than savage brutality. No full description of the revolting scenes which our soldiers then beheld has ever been given, and probably never will be. There are various reasons for this, one of which is, that there would be needless pain inflicted on the relatives of those noble heroes who fell in battle. Long after we had driven the Rebels back, and our men had been burying their dead comrades, who had been denied the common boon of humanity — a grave — the visitor would be startled by sights that would make the blood chill. Ghastly skeletons, lying exposed to the winds of heaven, bare and bleached, could be seen as fearful witnesses of Rebel inhumanity. Shallow graves were formed, from which protruded perhaps a bare, bald skull, or perhaps the bleached bones of hands and feet. A few handfuls of earth, thrown up carelessly, and partly washed away by the rains, was all that hid many of the dead from the light of day. There lay members of my regiment, the joy and pride of dear domestic circles, concerning whom I have had to maintain silence when dear parents or loving sisters spoke of them, because of the manner in which they were found on that horrid field. They were recognized by their comrades, and what was left of their mutilated remains, decently buried ; but they were recognized only from marks on their clothing, and the locality in which they fell. In several places we found bodies, or rather remains, lying between burned logs, part of which — an arm or leg, for instance — was calcined, as if subjected to intense heat, while other parts of the body were crisp and dry. It is firmly believed by all who saw those revolting scenes, that many of our wounded were burned alive, OR, .TOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 481 horrible as it may seem, for bodies were found partly consumed, where the contraction of the muscles, and the clenched fingers, seemed to indicate an attempt to grasp something, while the general appearance gave evidence of a violent struggle of some kind. In one place, the body of a Union soldier was found with both ears cut off, and in another, several bodies from which the heads had been removed. These had been set up on stakes and rails of the fences, or fastened on limbs of trees. A few, and but a few, graves of Union soldiers were marked. One, in which twelve had been buried, — a long trench — had a board inscribed: "Twelve Union soldiers," and another, probably an oGcer's, was adorned with a flat stone, on which was marked, "A damned Yankee nigger-thief lies here to rot and pollute our soil." But I forbear. The details are sickening. But one thing is certain, the wretches who could descend to such a depth of brutality, and be guilty of such aimless, wanton treatment of the helpless wounded or the harm- less dead, can never escape a fearful retribution, even in this world. Chickamauga ! Chickamauga ! the horrid Golgotha of Tennessee, where an accursed slaveholder' s treason slew the flower of the country, and refused the harmless dead the poor but common boon of humanity, will be remembered — yes, with a bitter and terrible remem- brance ! And when, at any time, wicked compromisers with wrong will ever dare to whisper of the rights of slaveholders, the veterans of Chickamauga and Mission Ridge, and all who are worthy their friendship, will fling in their teeth that terrible v^ord, Chickamauga ! and point to the mutilated remains and the ghastly 61 482 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; skeletons there, whicli the burning sun and the drench- ing rain had bleached — " Unknelled, uncoflSned, and unknown." Our children's children will reverently walk over the hallowed field of Chickamauga. They will note with interest its historic associations, and listen with thrilling interest to the tales of heroic bravery which perhaps some gray-haired sire may tell ; they will read, too, about the Fort Pillow butchery, and the brutalities at Plymouth ; they will listen to the horrid tales of Ander- sonville and Libby, where our noble patriot soldiers were systematically and deliberately tortured and starved to death ; they will read and study the long, fearful narratives of wanton cruelty, and unpitying, unrelenting hate, in comparison with which the blind, frenzied rage of the Indian Sepoys can scarcely be named. And, as they read or hear such tales, they will not only learn to love their country, but they will learn, too, to hate, with deepest hate, the iniquitous system of slavery, in the interest and spirit of which those scenes wore enacted. HOW WILL POSTERITY LOOK UPON THOSE MILITARY BURIAL PLACES ? There is another and brighter view to be taken of this otherwise dark and terrible scene. Those graves — the sight of which, so numerous, and looking so forsaken and desolate, have often awakened in my heart painfully sad emotions — are, nevertheless, the graves of heroes — the resting-places of Freedom' s noble defenders ! And, in the brighter and better days yet to come — for come they will — every one of these fields of graves, so OE, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 483 sad, and solemn, and forsaken, now ; so brown and bare, like some desolate "Potter's Field," will be a Necropolis — a city of buried heroes. They will be adorned with the richest treasures of art, and the more beautiful but less imposing ornaments of nature. Coming generations will hold ' as sacred trusts these halls of death, where a nation' s heroes are sleeping ; and they will tell to their children, and children's chil- dren, the story of Freedom's struggle with Oppression, and how that, in the final victory, not only America, but the shores of every continent and island of earth, were blessed with the advancing tide- wave of love and liberty. To-day I visited the soldiers' grave-yard. I have often visited such before, andl noticed, here and there the plain, homely headboard — the invariable token of a soldier' s grave — it was several moments before I could realize the fact that the spot on which I stood was really a graveyard. And yet, that it was such a place, it was soon easy to discover ; for, amid the tangled briers and alders, and rank, yellow grass, there glimmered, here and there, a dilapidated tombstone, the lettering of which was covered with moss or green mold. And, even had no marble or freestone marked the lowly bed of many a peaceful slumberer, the grassy mounds — some but slightly elevated, others nearly level, and some so rounded as to show that the occupants had been but lately laid to rest — would have told the tale of buried, sleeping humanity. A grave is always to me an object of solemn interest, but I seldom read a tombstone. I can give no reason for this, save that the grave itself — whether covered with the green sod, adorned with summer flowers, or 484 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; but recently made — is suggestive of interesting and important reflections. Imperceptibly my thoughts revert to the past, or glide onward to the future ; and scenes pertaining to life, death, immortality, the resurrection, and Day of Judgment loom up before me, and I think less on the age or name of the silent tenant of the tomb than 1 do of his relationship to those dread scenes. The lonely character of the graveyard, the neglect every- where visible, the tangled, withered grass, and rank weeds, and matted briers, and wild shrubs, which seemed to shelter the lowly graves and tottering tombstones from the profane foot of the thoughtless man, or the iron hoof of the war-horse, were all conducive to gloomy reflections. Perhaps, too, the dark clouds overhead, and the wet, yellow grass, and the dripping alder and brier bushes, which seemed to drip tears over neglected graves and the desecrated resting-place of a past gene- ration, deepened the gloomy feeling, and it seemed as if some hollow, sepulchral voice re-echoed the words of Gray' s dirge-like poem — " The Grave — dread thing ! Men shiver when thou'rt named. Nature, appalled, Shakes oflF her wonted firmness. Ah ! how dark Thy long-extended realms and rueful wastes ! Where naught but silence reigns, and night, dark night!" On returning to my quarters, I sat down by the rough board which served for table and writing-desk, and was soon absorbed in deep and saddened thought. The lonely, neglected graveyard seemed to be still before me. I could think of nothing else but that desolate place, and all the associations, both of peace and war, with which it was connected. I remembered the soldiers' OR, JOSIE THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 485 humble graves there, and thought how appropriate would be the inscription over each sleeper : "A STRANGER HERE. LiTTLE KNOWN OF THE SLUMBERER BENEATH, BUT this: He loved his country, and in her service and FOR her defence HE DIED ! TrEAD LIGHTLY o'eR THE soldier's grave, for sacred TO THE NATION's HEART ARE THE RESTING-PLACES OF HER FALLEN HEROES-" I thought, too, of the manner in which many grave- yards are kept ; how the dead are forgotten, and their last resting-places neglected ; and that, instead of flowers or evergreens being planted over them, as tokens of affection and sweet emblems of the resurrection, the long, rank grass, and tangled weeds and briers, are permitted to grow in melancholy luxuriance. All this, thought I, shows that the dead are friendless and forgot- ten, and that the living are thoughtless and neglectful. The atheist, who writes the fearfully wicked words, ' ' There is no God, ' ' and the infidel who inscribes the terribly dark and revolting sentence over the gateway to the tomb, "Death is an eternal sleep," may^ con- sistently with their unhallowed creed, forget the dead, as they insult the living, and they may tread profanely upon the silent chambers of mortality ; but it ill becomes the Christian so to act. Rather let believers in the pure, lovely, hope-inspiring doctrines of the Gospel not only keep the memory of departed friends ever green, but, in token of hope and love, let them beautify, with Nature' s own gems and jewels, the lowly resting-places of the sainted dead. Let them make the graveyard itself a scene of quiet and subdued loveliness. Yea, let them make it — like the place where the blessed Savior him- 486 SOUTHEKN PRISONS ; self was laid — "A garden, and in the garden a new sepulclier." Why should not the living desire that the resting- places of the dead should wear, as much as possible, a calm, peaceful look — a look of hope, a look of beauty ? Was it not from a childlike faith, and from childlike instincts of repose and beauty, as well as from a shrink- ing back from the dark, dreary repulsiveness of the neglected and festering graveyard, that the little dying girl exclaimed, " Bury me in the garden, mother ! bury me in the garden !" Was it not from the desire that in the early spring the apple- blossoms might fall upon her little grave, and that the flowers might bloom, and the birds sing, and sunshine fall all around where she peacefully slept ? And was it not the same instinct that prompted the dying boy to ask whether his little sister wouldn't come and plant favorite flowers on his grave, and whether she and mother wouldn't come, in the long summer evenings, and sit and sing by his resting-place ? And did not the same feelings animate the bosom of Wilson, the great ornithologist, when he breathed the wish to be buried where the bu-ds might sing over his grave ? — a wish that has been literally fulfilled. We can not make graveyards cheerful ; neither can we dissociate from them solemn feelings and sad, painful reflections. It is not desirable we should do so ; but we can make them beautiful, lovely, ay, sweet and inviting, to the stricken, bereaved mourner, and fitting places for calm meditation and serious thought. The above reflections, suggested as alieady noted, brought up others related to the same subject, but invested with more importance and interest. I thought about death, as well as the grave ; and wondered whether OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 487 onr feelings as Christians, concerning both, were not entirely too gloomy. In sermons and books, and obitu- aries, do we not speak of Death as that grim and ghastly tyrant that has waved his black scepter over all the generations of men, and made the march from lisping infancy to hoary age but a dark and dismal procession, under faneral banners and gloomy badges ? Do we not represent Death as an angel of darkness, whose visage is terrible, and w^hose touch is cold and remorseless as the grave ? Or as a skeleton specter, whose teeth rattle in the fieshless skull, and whose bony fingers grasp a keen-bladed scythe and ominous sand-glass ? Or as a dull-eyed, unfeeling potentate, arrayed in garments of gloom, and whose symbol of power is his dark and shadowy foot, placed remorselessly on the bosom of helpless humanity? That a busy, thoughtless world, sunk in sin, and feverishly grasping the gilded bauble of sensual pleasure, should, when it does think of death, have such a grim, gloomy specter rise up before it, and point threateningly to the dreary shades of the silent land from whose dark shores no voyager ever returns, is but in keeping with the fearful forebodings of a guilty conscience. But why may not the Christian, happy in a Savior' s love, and rejoicing in hope of the glory of God, think of Death rather as a white-robed angel, radiant with the splendors of the City of God, and having at his azure girdle the golden keys of life, ready to open the myste- rious gates of the glorious future, and admit the weary pilgrim of earth to all the unmingled splendors of the home of the redeemed ? Even the ancient heathen rep- resented Death as a celestial messenger, who, with 488 SOUTHERN PRISONS; smiling face and folded wings, quietly extinguished the light of life In all ages of the world the military liero has been applauded, his name recorded in history, and his deeds celebrated in song. The chisel of the sculptor, the pencil of the painter, the harp of the minstrel, and the pen of the historian, have vied with each other in paying honor to his genius, and in eulogizing his bravery. While the more prominent or more fortunate of those who have hewed with their swords a pathway to fame, have been thus immortalized by history and art, the humble ballad literature of various nations, distinguished more for its chivalrous spirit and adaptation to the necessities of a rude age, than for its elegance of diction or literary taste, has embalmed, in rustic song or simple melody, the memories of less noted, but no less honor- able, heroes of humble name. The history of the war for the preservation of the Union is a record of personal bravery and self-sacrificing devotion, on the part of the loyal men and women of the nation, to which history furnishes no parallel. During those years of bloodshed and strife, our cities, and hamlets, and rural abodes — the luxurious dwellings of the city merchants, and the log cabins of our frontier farmers — have sent forth as heroic men as ever drew sword ; and they have furnished as illustrious examples of womanly tenderness, affection and love, blended with the truly heroic in self-sacrificing devotion and patient endurance, as the world has ever seen. No monumental brass or marble will ever receive for safe-keeping the names of all the heroes and heroines of that mighty struggle for freedom ; neither will the historian' s stately periods, nor the poet's touching lyrics, hand down to OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 489 posterity the records of their noble deeds, or the requi- ems sung over their honored graves. The richly-carved, storied urn, may be costly and beautiful, but it will be broken in pieces and buried in the dust. The "ever- during brass" may be elaborately finished, and the names of the illustrious dead deeply engraved upon it, but it will corrode and waste away. The stately monu- mental marble may be solid in structure and imposing in appearance, but it, too, will crumble and decay. The historian's records may be just, and the poet's songs may be sweet, but they will all be marred by the fingers of hoary Time. But good thoughts and noble deeds never die. Like their author, they are immortal. They go marching down the ages with stately, steady tread, elevating and ennobling successive generations, and moving forward the shadows on the dial-plate of human destiny, long after the bosoms that gave them birth are buried beneath Oblivion' s wave. 62 490 souTHEBN prisons; CHAPTER XXXin. THE GRAND REVIEW. Close of the War. — The Great Review of the Armies. — The City of Washington. — My Discharge from the Army. God of peace ! — whose spirit fills All the echoes of our hills. Now the storm is o'er ; — O, let freemen be our sons ; And let future Washingtons Rise to lead their valiant ones. Till there's war no more. John Pierpont. When I rejoined my regiment the war was virtually ended. Gen. Lee still clnng desperately to his hold on Richmond, but the operations of the month of April, 1865, utterly ruined his army and crushed out the Re- bellion. April 24th, the regiment moved through Peters- burg to City Point, and there took transports for Alex- andria, where they arrived April 27th. April 29th, it re- ported for duty with the First Brigade and Ninth Army Corps, and went into camp at Tanallytown. May 22d, we were ordered to Washington, and took part in the great review of the armies of the East and West, which continued for three days at Washing- ton. No such sight was ever before, or probably ever again will be, witnessed upon this continent. Three hundred thousand veteran soldiers were in line of OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 491 march, and the capital was thronged with such a sea of human beings as I never witnessed congregated in any other place. The streets were lined so densely with per- sons from all sections of the country, some from dis- tances over 1,000 miles, that locomotion upon the side- walks during mid-day was simply impossible, and the soldiery completely filled the street from curbstone to curbstone. The fences, the windows, the housetops, the lamp-posts, the trees, everything upon which humanity could stand or hang or get support from, was filled with human beings. It is estimated that fuUy 1,000,000 persons were in the City of Washington during those three days, besides the more than a quarter of a million of soldiers. The President, Gen. Grant, Gen. Sherman, Gen. Sheridan, and all the leading dignitaries of the country, civil and military, were gathered at the Capitol where they might see the heroes of the war pass in review. The spectacle was a most wonderful and brilliant one. The marching column embraced all arms of the service, the Cavalry, the Infantry, the Artillery, the Engineers, and all, officers and men, were in holiday attire, so far as such attire could be obtained in so brief a space for so vast a multitude of bronzed and war- worn veterans. The sight of the armies, as they thun- dered along the broad avenues, the Army of the East first, that of the West following, was wonderfully grand. Not only were their numbers imposing and their discipline great, but the beholders felt that every man in that phalanx was a hero, and every one who witnessed the pageant will carry the memory of it to his death-bed, and know that it wiU go down to history as the fitting grand close of the great civil war. During the period which succeeded, until June 3d, 492 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; when I was mustered out of the service, I remained in Washington almost the entire time, viewing the city and reflecting upon its peculiarities and distinctive feat- ures. Of course in the brief space which can be allotted to the theme here, I can only give the general result of these studies, the principal facts of which I took note, and the impressions which these conveyed to my mind. Naturally, the stranger notices an almost infinite variety of faces, coming as men do here, from all quarters of the earth to transact business, and from all quarters of our vast country in the pursuit of honor, place and wealth, to be obtained by a short cut. One meets faces here which carry subtle mysteries into which the gazer can only peer ; rarely can he solve the problem. These faces belong to the higher order of men, men of pro- found thought, men who in long years of study and care have learned to veil their emotions and designs un- der an impenetrable mask. Such faces are to a degree false, and yet this mask must be worn to some extent by all men, especially by men engaged in carrying for- ward deep schemes, even though they be innocent ones. It seems one of the hard necessities of greatness to as- sume a coldness and reserve which may be entirely for- eign to the real man. Again, in passing through the thronged Washington streets one encounters faces which, as we pass them, attract no special attention, but afterward — perchance days, perhaps weeks, months, years — suddenly stand forth before the memory in distinct living light, and one wonders why he failed to remark the full power of that face before. In Washing- ton one not only sees the faces of all nationalities, but of all classes, and of persons bent upon all interests. The grave senator walks the street over which huriy OR, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 493 both spruce and self-important Government clerks. Representatives in Congress meet pretty lobbyists or department employes, exchanging a friendly nod and smile when alone ; when in the lawful company of their wives and daughters calmly decorous, but keenly ob- servant of the furtive smile and imperceptible recogni- tion of the pretty girl upo*ii fhe pavement. And a class of faces of which one sees much in Washington are those of determined aspirants for places, men and women who may for years have been seeking some humble position, and whose faces bear the indelible im- pression of hope deferred until the heart has become indeed sick. Many of the faces seen here would reveal nothing were it not for the outlook in the eyes. Those cannot always lie. At times they will speak despite the utmost watchfulness of flie owmer, and they then reveal strange tales of the character of the heart within. Few really good faces, wearing the impress of happi- ness and scorning concealment, does one behold in Washington city. It is the last place upon the conti- nent where an honest young man, ambitious to become a useful, honorable member of society, or a pure young woman, desirous of retaining her virtue, should go. But in these reflections I am forgetting the mate- rial, part of the Capital. I strolled over most of the public buildings, the Capitol, the various department buildings, the Treasury and the libraries. Millions of money have now been expended to make Washington beautiful, and with success. The buildings are all of stone, in the highest orders of architecture, their walls on the interior covered with the most elaborate and beautiful of frescoes, the furniture of the richest and most costly woods and the upholstering gorgeous and 494 SOUTHERN PRisoisrs ; expensive. Indeed, the wealth of the nation has been lavishly expended here for more than a century, and yet it is now gravely proposed to remove the Capital bodily to St. Louis or some other point nearer the cen- ter of the country. It would undoubtedly be desirable if the Capital were more advantageously situated for all sections of the country, but it really cannot be that all the outlay and beauty that have been accumulated at Washington should now be abandoned and made for naught ; especially at the close of a long war, when the national treasury is alarmingly depleted. I visited Downing' s Restaurant, kept by George T. Downing, a colored man of most elegant manners, in a couple of rooms in the Capitol building, and where the Congressmen and other gentlemen of position lunch themselves and escort their lady friends to dinner or lunch. Much curious society can be observed here. Senators, with their wives and daughters, sit near re- presentatives accompanied by beautiful ladies who cer- tainly are not either then- wives or daughters, and yet seem provokingly familiar with our national legislators. Eminent clergymen dine at little tables, near by which sit great gamblers and unprincipled lobbyists. And in this connection I ascertained that Washing- ton is reeking with gambling-hells, situated mainly on the stately Pennsylvania avenue or upon streets run- ning into it, and where gambling operations are carried on upon a gigantic scale All other kinds of vice which can be prosecuted in a decorous manner also abounds in this city of pleasure, but no such disgraceful exhibitions of brutality, outrage and riot are witnessed here as can be seen in the streets of New York at any time Things OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 495 are carried on in Washington with a careful regard to the outer forms of propriety at least. There are not many handsome residences in the city itself, the houses of the wealthy and great being chiefly tall, plain brick buildings, evincing little beauty out- wardly, but elegantly furnished and fitted up within. But in the villages which lie at a little distance from the heart of the city, and in the suburbs, there are some exceedingly charming places. Thp White House, or executive mansion, is situated on Pennsylvania avenue, near the western end of the city, and is built of free- stone, painted white, from which comes its name. It contains two lofty suites of rooms, but is built in a style of architecture that savors of many years ago, and to the modern eye looks ungraceful, though the building has cost a vast sum of money, and at the accession of each President has been refurnished, so that its total expense for refitting and furnishing has been enormous. When I say that the cost of living at the Capital is excessive ; that it is impossible to obtain comfort even without paying three or four times what one' s accom- modations are really worth ; that the life of a depart- ment clerk almost invariably leads a man into a mere routine of duties unfitting him for all practical and use- ful business in the world, and generally leaves him a poor man after several years of service, then to be thrust out into the world with no useful occupation ; it may be that the rage for clerkships will moderate, at all events among the readers of this work, and a desire for healthful, manly work be substituted in its place. And, in concluding my thoughts concerning Washington, I may sum it all up in this declaration, that the Capital , is well enough for the great men of the nation and for 496 SOUTHERN PRISONS; those who have there legitimate business to transact, but for all others, men in moderate circumstances, women who can earn honest livelihoods or those who have the support and care of fathers, Washington is in all respects an undesirable city either to visit at great length or of which to make a permanent residence. June 3d, I was mustered out of the service at Detroit, and proceeded at once to arrange my business affairs before going to the South in search of my wife. And thus ended four years of service in the Union ranks, of which a little over one year was spent in Southern prisons and the remainder in active service with a regiment whose reputation is unsurpassed for gallantry and devotion to its country's cause. Its heroism has been proved in the hardest battles of the war ; its dead lie on almost every great field of the Rebellion ; of its members who went forth to the conflict but a skeleton remains, and as one of those few, it is fitting that I should narrate its glories and its losses, and I therefore append the following list of the battles and skirmishes in wliich the regiment was engaged : BATTLES AND SKIRMISHES. South Mountain, Md., Sept. 14, 1862. Antietam, Md., Sept. 17, 1862. Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 12, 13, 14, 1862. Siege of Vicksburg, Miss., June 22, to July 4, 1863. Jackson, Miss., July 11, to 18, 1863. Blue Spring, Tenn., Oct. 10, 1863. Loudon, *' Nov, 14, " Lenoir Station, Tenn., Nov. 15, 1863. Campbell's Station Tenn., Nov. 16, 1863. Siege of Knoxville, Tenn., Nov. 17 to Dec. 5, 1863. Thurley's Ford, Tenn., Dec. 15, 1863. Fort Saunders, Tenn., Dec. 29, 1863. OB, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLORENCE. 497 Strawberry Plains, Tenn., Jan 22, 1864. Wilderness, Va., May 5, 6 and 7, 1864. Ny. River, Virginia, May 9, 1864. Spottsylvania, Va., May 10, 11 and 12, 1864. North Anna, Va., May 24, 1864. Bethesda Church, Va., June 2 and 3, 1864. Coal Harbor, Va., June 7, 1864. Petersburg, Va., June 17 and 18, 1864. The Crater, Va., July 30, 1864. Welder. R. R., Va„ Aug. 19 and 21, 1864. 63 Reams' Station, Va., Aug. 25, 1864. Poplar Spring Church, Va., Sept. 30, 1864. Pegram Farm, Va., Oct. 2, 1864. Boydton Road, Va. Oct. 8, 1864. Hatcher's Run, Va., Oct. 27 and 28, 1864. Fort Steadman, Va., March 25, 1865. Capture of Petersburg, Va., April 3, 1865. Siege of Petersburg, Va., from June 17, 1864, to April 3, 1865. SOUTHERN PRISONS CHAPTER XXXIV. JOSIE'S DEATH. My Return to Florence and Restoration to My Wife —Return to the North — Her Sinking Away and Death. Happy they ! Thrice fortunate ! who of that fragile mould. The precious porcelain of human clay. Break with the first fall : they can ne'er behold The long year link'd with heavy day on day. And all which may be borne and never told. Byron. From the time of my discharge I had but one leading object in life, the recovery of my darling, and after ar- ranging my business concerning some property which I owned in Michigan, and making a business engagement to take effect when I should again return from the South, I at once set out upon my journey. I went to Cleveland, thence to Harrisburg, Pa., and thence by way of Baltimore to Washington, arriving there June 28th. I ascertained that the great line of railroad to the South, running through Richmond, Weldon and Flor- ence, was now open again, having very speedily been renewed at the close of the war, and I determined to avail myself of that. Accordingly, I proceeded directly to Richmond, and now the blight which the wa-r had visited upon the South commenced to be fearfully ap- OR, JOSIE, THE HEKOmE OF FLOKENCE. 499 parent. From the time tlie train, which ran very slowly, left Alexandria until the time it reached Rich- mond the way was one scene of desolation. The fences which formerly separated the farms had all been torn down long ago to fnrnish wood for the camps of the two hostile armies or to facilitate military movements across the country. No crops had for years been raised throughout this section, as it was a constant battle ground and the farmers had abandoned their fields to that grim enemy, war. Over the whole line the remains of blackened dwellings and granaries torn to pieces or burned to the ground, showed where fire had been called in to aid the ruin wrought by the sword. There were no railway stations, save perchance some di- lapidated building which was now employed for such purposes. The country, too, seemed deserted ; there were no inhabitants ; the young men had been drained into the arniy long ago, and most of them slept in sol- diers' graves ; the old men, the women and the young children had fled South before the advancing Union armies, and sought new and more secure homes in the heart of the so-called Confederacy. Everything was desolate, lonely, poverty-stricken and wretched. The few people gathered at the leading railway halting places stared wofully at the passengers upon the train, a fiendish look of hatred sometimes flashing over their dull faces as something reminded them of the Yankees, and then they cursed the North fiercely and loudly. But usually there was exhibited a dull, painful sense of defeat, as though their calamities had stunned them and they could only muse over them in silence Richmond looked as though struck with the plague. From being the great store-house of the Confederate 500 SOUTHEEN PEisoisrs; army and a depot where a vast amount of business was necessarily transacted, it sank in a day, on that Sunday when the Union forces broke in, to an almost ruined city, where no business was done. Its citizens congre- gated in little knots on the pavements or in the half deserted stores and mused upon the strange works of the past two months ; wondered what their condition was likely to be in the restored Union, expressed a most salutary apprehension and horror of confiscation, and then separated drearily to their poverty-stricken homes, there to chew tobacco as the only solace left. In fact the only class of people at the South who at this period enjoyed happiness were the blacks. They saw their deliverance accomplished and rejoiced in it won- drously, beholding the fruition of the poet's prophecy. Ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls her waves. The fair daughters of the " sunny South " would at this time have been more appropriately called "she- devils." Their mortification at the defeat of the lost cause, their hatred of the North, their malice toward everything pertaining to Northern institutions, were such that the whole female sex in the South seemed mad, and the individuals were capable of any rudeness, any wickedness almost. Passing south of the late Rebel capital, the country became more thickly settled. As the war had not to any great extent inflicted its ravages upon that section, the farms seemed to have suffered comparatively little ; but as we passed south, the country grew wilder, and the road for many miles ran through dense forests and OK, JOSIE, THE HEEOIKE OF FLORENCE. 601 black gloomy swamps. All ! how well I knew tMs whole country! In Richmond I had looked over at Belle Island and gazed upon what was formerly the scene of the barbarous confinement of myself and thous- ands of others, with feelings mitigated by the enjoyment of liberty and the consciousness of victory, but in which there was still much of the bitterness of death. As I gazed from the train out into the recesses of the fearful swamps, how well I remembered when they to me were places of refuge, longed for havens of safety from the fierce bloodhounds and the equally savage Rebels. As I thought of my position a year before and contrasted it with my present situation, I thanked the Creator for his goodness, I reveled in delight at the joy before me, and I very much fear I uttered a hearty malediction against all rebels, and against the Rebels of the South in particular. My thoughts had, during my whole journey, been tinged with apprehension concerning my wife, as to her safety, her welfare, and even her present location. I had made no arrangement for holding correspondence with her when I last saw her, of course, having been suddenly and unexpectedly separated from her, being ignorant when I might expect to regain my liberty and being utterly at a loss to know what my immediate future would be even if I were exchanged. Thus I had never heard from her or concerning her at all since my final incarceration at Florence. I reached this village, the scene of so much suffering, late in the afternoon, after a very long and tedious ride from Richmond. Unavoidably my mind reverted to the prison, and a muttered curse escaped my lips, but with that the Florence prison pen passed into a memory, and 502 SOUTHERN PRISONS ; my mind reverted with redoubled force towards the object of my journey, the recovery of my darling. By the time I had reached a miserable hotel and got a horse saddled (an excellent and speedy one, by the way,) it was quite dark ; but I was only the more anxious to proceed. The voluminous inquiries^of the landlord as to whether I knew the road, I cut short by assuring him that I knew it quite well enough for my own satisfaction, and struck spurs into the animal and bounded away. I pushed directly, by the shortest route, for the house of Mr. Brown, the Leaguer. Two hours hard riding brought me within a short distance of it, and I then drew rein and went on at a walk, to still the tumultuous beatings of my heart. Anxiety, hope, fear, expectation, had fought a fierce battle in my heart during those two hours, only deadened by the fierce speed and the excite- ment of swift riding. Now, however, as I approached my fate, all these emotions in turn swayed me, and I thought for a moment my heart would burst its tenement of fiesh, as one emotion after another surged over me, and mastered my soul for the time. As I drew near the house, the feeling which took place of all others, was a deadly, sickening fear. I saw that a light was burning within ; got off" my horse, made him fast somehow to the fence, and then leaned against it myself, to recover from the horrible faintness which overcame me. A thousand apprehensions rushed upon me at once ; hope and fear, together with a hundred fearful imaginations, fiashed through my feverish brain, the nature of which I had never known before. She might have been com- pelled by circumstances to leave the vicinity ; she might be sick, she might be dead ! What might not my darling have suffered in the six months during which I OE, JOSIE, THE HEEOINE OF ELORET^CE. 508 had neither seen her nor heard of her. The thought of the possibility of the awful calamity which I might yet undergo, crowning with one giant misfortune the dire calamities which I had already suffered, quite unmanned me, and for a moment I feared to move, lest my worst suspicions should he verified. Then came a great revul- sion of desperate energy. If my wife were dead, it were better that I should know it, and rid myself of the torment of doubt which now oppressed me. I pushed forward into the enclosure about the house, cautiously ascended the steps, and, without awaiting even the formality of knocking, opened the door and ehtered the room, which was used as a sitting and sewing room. My eyes, dazzled by the light, saw but two ladies sitting at the table. They rose up with an exclamation of surprise at my sudden entrance. I stepped forward, — both cried out some little inarticulate expressions of surprise, delight and recognition, and with a sob of happiness, my darling w^-s once more in my arms, hiding her blushing face upon my shoulder, while I, it must be owned, sank down into a chair with her and shed tears as I kissed her lips, her beautiful 'cheeks, her fair brow. Some minutes passed ere either could speak aught save little words of endearment, and Miss Lizzie cried heartily in sympathy with us. At last, stilling Josie's heaving breast and the little fluttering heart, we began to talk, and were soon aided by the entrance of Mr. Brown and his wife, who had been roused from their sleep by a commotion which created an unalterable impression in their minds that the Rebel cavalry had taken possession of the lower story. Their reception of me, however, was a hearty one, and more joyful than ever. My appearance was to them as that of one who OK, JOSIE, THE HEROINE OF FLOKENCE. 505 but little hope. He said tlie seeds of serious disease were manifest and developed in her lungs, and that her constitution had been so overstrained that the result was very doubtful. And then for a month, with agony- such as cannot be painted, I saw my young wife fade away before me. She knew she was dying, but her courage and patience never forsook her. She grieved at leaving me so soon, but rejoiced that we had been re- united and that for even so brief a time we had rested in the holy confidence of husband and wife. To me it was utter agony. Nothing could comfort me, nothing console me. Now indeed I knew and appreciated the full meaning of the word despair. " Mine after life I what is mine after life ! My day is closed I The gloom of night is come I A hopeless darkness settles o'er my fate.'" My dear wife vainly sought to reconcile me to this awful affliction. I feigned a resignation which at heart I could not feel. I never left her, but watched in agony over the wasting of her young life till she died peace- fully in ni}^ arms and I was stricken down with brain fever. The friends whom I had about me in that awful hour buried her in beautiful Greenwood, and in October I, a broken-hearted man, went to the new made grave and caused to be erected upon it a simple monument of white marble, with only the word " Josie" upon it. It stands now, in the summer, in the midst of violets, and every year I repair to the shrine where my affections are centered, and spend days in closer communion with the spirit of my dead wife. Her death came as the poet Bryant said death should come to one of her pure, gen- tle nature : • 64 i. ^V 606 SOUTHERN PRISONS ', Death should come Gently to one of gentle mould, like thee, As light winds wandering through groves of bloom. Detach the delicate blossoms from the tree. Close thy sweet eyes calmly, and without pain, And we will trust in God to see thee yet again. The End. '^**2^