to my nearest comrade, "Wouldn't that sign be a drawiug-card
at a sanitary fair up North?" Some weeks afterwards, I was
not a little pleased at seeing the same sign advertised as the
most interesting object at a fair in, I think, Philadelphia.
Our march and observations were temporarily halted in front
of a very large building, which, from its numerous disconsolate
occupants, we concluded to be a prison of some sort. Natural-
ly we thought the prisoners unfortunates similar to ourselves,
but on our making sundry remarks, we were informed in tones
unmistakably secesh, "We ain't Yanks, we're rebs." There
could be no doubt about that. No man, born north of Mason
and Dixon's Line, could articulate in such a thin-speeched
manner as that. We were in front of Castle Thunder, long the
prison-house of Confederate deserters and political prisoners
generally. Here we are made to march out in single file, that
we might be the better numbered. Of course we thought our
destination to be the notorious Libby, but we were pushed
right along and into a building opposite, which we soon learned
was called Pemberton, and a sorry old rookery it was, too.
It was three stories high, an old tobacco warehouse, deserving
a history of its own, but almost entirely lost sight of in the
greater reputation of its neighbor, Libby. We were under pre-
cisely the same rule as the other edifice, but we were under a dif-
ferent name. As we were sure that our stay was to be very
short in Richmond, we were disposed to endure all our. ills with
a deal of complacency, thinking them to be of brief duration.
Our food was of the regulation pattern, corndodger, compact
and almost saltlcss, with as much water as we could coax out
of the dribbling faucets. We were as hungry as famine could
make us, but of this kind of ration our stomachs were thorough-
ly cloyed. We ate but little of it and threw the remainder
on the floor, much to the disgust of our rebel guards, who as-
sured us that we might have to go hungry for our wasteful-
ness; but we ran the risk and awaited the issue. The debris
was gathered up and thrown into the street, where it afforded
causes for unlimited (juarrclings among the colored people as
long as there was anything left. The officer who came in each
morning to count us was either a good actor or a perfect devil.
PRISONERS OK WAR. 353
for each time tluit he made his appearance, he came cursing
and swearing up the stairs with a revolver in one hand and
his note-booli in the other. He had an escort of two or three
soldiers to see that the terrible Yankees did not eat him, I sup-
pose. He may have been Dick Turner himself, but I can not
say. At any rate, he tilled the Turner descriptive list pretty
well. His morning salutation was something like this: "Fall
into line, you G — d — d Yankee sons of b — s." It was new
usage to us, but he had the advantage of us in that be had the
energy of position. We might inwardly resent, but we thought
the best thing for us to do was to get into place just as quickly
as possible. There was no back talk, not a word, but if looks
could have killed, he had been a dead man a dozen times. His
conduct was of a piece with that generally had in Richmond,
I am told. Our views of the city, as in Danville, had to be
taken at a proper distance from the windows. One day we
heard a tremendous hurrahing and soon saw a large number
of men filing by our building. They seemed to be in excellent
condition and spirits. We subsequently learned that they
were paroled prisoners from the north who had just come up
the river. They were very enthusiastically greeted by the citi-
zens, and they acted as though they had had enough to eat
in their northern residence. The contrast with the weakened
condition about us was painfully apparent. They marched off
as we did when we were well fed at home. The appointments
of Pemberton were not so convenient as those of Danville, bad
as we thought the latter. The sinks were at the end of the
room, and the occupants of the upper floors were at the mercy
of those below, for if the water were set running there, then
those above could wait till it suited the convenience of their
compatriots for them to be served. Of course we could go be-
low ourselves if we liked, but we were not very well received
when we went traveling. The inevitable result of our want of
sufficient water was a very sad condition of sanitation.
I am able to record that I was in Libby prison, in war-times,
if only for a moment. Men were called for to go over to Libby
for the purpose of getting some wood. Thinking it an oppor-
tunity that I could not afford to lose, I at once volunteered,
and with several others went across the street to the edifice
and down behind it, where on the canal or river side, we found
an entrance to the lower regions. This basement seemed to
23
354 NINTH NEW YORK HEAVY ARTILLERY.
be a sort of wood-house. Of course my eyes were open for what
might fill them, and I remember asking the guard if he could
show me the place through which Colonel Straight and his
comrades escaped. He pointed out a large opening in the wall
as the excavation made by the redoubtable Indiana officer, but
in the light of subsequent knowledge, I am convinced that he
was imposing upon me. However, I was just as happy then
over my information as I would have been had it been bona
fide truth. I didn't know the difference. How frequently is
ignorance bliss!
The morning of the memorable 22d of February, 1865, was
destined to bring to us more than usual significance. It was
to be to us the day of liberation. I can not recall the hour,
but on this day we were ordered into line and again we bade
adieu to a prison-house and filed out into Carey street. Now
we turn towards the east and it looks as though home were
in prospect. Our progress, though, is slow and there are many
waitings, which we try to fill in with observations on our sur-
roundings. The "Johnny" dialect comes in for a deal of criti-
cism. The average Southron will beat any other mortal living
in dividing monosyllables. To him "guard" is always "gyard.''
"You" and "we" became "You-uns" and "We-uns." He likes
authority, too, and the devoted guard was kept in a constant
panic lest he was not in the right place.
It was during our march to the landing that I was guilty
of my only offense in passing bad money. A year or more be-
fore, a cousin had visited my father's home, and coming directly
from a commercial college, he had some of the so-called cur-
rency used in the make-believe banking of the college. Natural-
ly he gave me a specimen of the bills, and as naturally I laid my
acquisition away in my pocket. There it had remained during
all my campaigning and imprisonment till this day. As before
stated, we did not eat much of the food given us by the rebels,
but we were very hungry all the same. So when on our way
down, the people came about us with food for sale, anxious to
get some of the Northern money, there arose in me a disposi-
tion to work off that spurious bill so long in my possession. To
cut a long story short, it bought for me a loaf of bread, which
was sjH'edily put where it would do the most good. Was I
justifiable? Let some one as hungry as myself answer. Any crit-
icism from well-fed stay at-homes will not be accepted. When
PRISONERS OF WAR. 355
John Brown was asked if be could find any Bible justification
in his destruction of property and life in his Harper's Ferry
raid, he is said to have replied, "Shall we not spoil the Egyp-
tians?" After all we were not particularly concerned about
great moral questions in those days.
In the days before my enlistment, I had been an eager reader
and an ardent admirer of Edgar Allan Poe. Just before me
was the rery stream in whose waters he is said to have swum
seven miles, and I wondered whether his course was over the
route about to be traveled by us.
I have stopped in Richmond twice since that day in Febru-
ary. The first time was in the following May, when the 6th
Corps marched down from its camp in Manchester, opposite,
and crossed the James on a pontoon bridge placed very near
the point where we took the boat on our departure from the
city. My original visit was confined to the vicinity of Carey
street. Then I was under rebel guidance, now I was carrying
a gun. and we marched by the flank with fixed bayonets, mak-
ing, as we ascended State street, a glittering sea of burnished
steel. From walk to walk there was just one mass of glisten-
ing points. The blinds of the houses were nearly all closed,
for the occupants had no eyes for such a sight as this. That
one view of the array of arms behind me was something of a
compensation for the rigors of my introduction to the Capital
of the Confederacy.
My second revisiting was in February, 1888. Then I went
purposely to see what I could of the places so prominent twen-
ty-five years before. The Pemberton of the Rebellion had dis-
appeared by fire, and in its place was an honest blacksmith
shop where diligent toilers were earning a livelihood. Only
a tradition places the old building on the site. Libby is yet
standing, soon, however, to be transported to Chicago. "Another
reason," I heard a man remark, "why that city should suffer
from another conflagration." Despite the overpowering odor
of phosphate fertilizers, I have little trouble in doing the edi-
fice and in tracing out the spots where misery was once so rife.
I seek out the home of Jefferson Davis during the war, now the
peaceful abode of a girls' school. The Capitol is entered and
all its resources explored. I go into the library and note the
prominence of Confederate faces and flags, and I wonder if Vir-
ginia had any history before the war. Perhaps the fact that
356 NINTH NEW YORK HEAVY ARTILLERY.
it was a lost cause has given to the strife a peculiar tenderness,
for certain it is that we of the North know notliiug of the
intensity of the fervor with which the average Southron re
gards all memories of the Rebellion. Climbing to the cupola
of the structure I can see the whole city spread out before me.
Just at my feet is the famous equestrian statue of ^Yashington,
surrounded by other notable sons of Virginia, fortunately
erected before the war, or it would not have been constructed
at all, for now the Mother of Presidents is devoting all her
resources to commemorating the memories of her Lees and
Jacksons, men who did their best to destroy that which her
Washington, Jefferson, and others labored and fought to build.
On the other side of the street is the church in which Davis
was — shall I say "worshiping"? — when the news of the break-
ing of the lines was brought to him and whence he made his
hurried Hight. And then to Hollywood, where repose so many
whom the nation knows. The guide will tell you that three
presidents are buried here, but naturally he can only name two,
for the very good reason that Monroe and Tyler are the only
ones. From their graves we pass to that portion of the cemetery
devoted to the Confederate dead. As we wander among the
graves or stand beside the pyramidal structure that feminine de-
votion has reared to Confederate valor, we will doff our hats,
for we know that those who met us in open fight were brave, and
that they deserve of us what is a tribute to bravery everywhere,
respect. There is one more place to visit, and we cross the
James and stand on the accursed soil of Belle Isle. We can
find not the slightest trace of the horrors that made this name
a hiss and a by-word among all Cliristian people. The river,
however, flows by just as muddy and just as forbidding as
when it formed an effectual barrier to the famishing prisoner
held upon the island. Noisy and busy iron-works occupy the
eastern end of the isle, and only a barren waste is found where
once was suffered unutterable agony. I wonder why Chicago
doesn't buy Belle Isle!
We were told that we were the first detachment to go down
the river under the resumption of the general cartel of ex-
change; but of this I am not prepared to affirm oi' deny. I do
know that we were a very happy lot of men and boys on our
way to what we called God's country, happy though we knew
that we had left behind us upon the prison floor the dead
PRISONERS OF WAK. 357
iHulies of two of our comrades. Tbey had died on the very
tlireshold of freedom. In fancy I often see those lonely bodies
stretched in death, bodies whose souls had only a day or two
before rejoiced Mith us on the advent of certain liberty; but
they were not strong enough for the journey, and the cup fell
from them even when at their very lips. Another who was sup-
ported by tender hands as we went down to the boat, had not
the strength to leave it, and was carried back to Richmond for
rebel burial.
The boat itself is only a dim image through the intervening
years. I remember that in front of the pilot-house were seated
General Robert Oulds, well known in the annals of prisoner
exchanges as the Confederate commissioner, and by his side
were Brigadier Generals John Hays, of New York, and A. N.
Duttie, of Rhode Island, the unsuccessful garroter in the at-
tempted escape from Danville. They had not the least trace
of any differences of opinions, and for aught we could see they
were friends of long standing. I envied the Union ofQcers the
information that I was certain the commissioner was giving
them. I knew that we were passing historic scenes, but my
comrades were as ignorant as myself, and the rebel guards
were as stupid as usual, and that means that their education
did not begin very early. The boat picked its way very ginger-
ly all the distance down, for the river was well planted with
torpedoes, and the rebs knew how thoroughly loaded they
were. Some points we recognized without any informants, as
a frowning fortification on our right we readily named Fort
Darling, long a source of Federal anxiety. The Dutch Gap
canal, the scene of General Butler's efforts, is also found; but
in the main the descent of the stream is rather tame. At Rich-
mond some of the men had received long-delayed boxes, and
now on their way down the river they regaled themselves with
the contents. They were objects of almost wolfish regard to their
fellow prisoners, in whose stomachs there were vacua of long
existence. How quickly we forgot our ills. An officer, whose
stomach had become pretty well filled by the contents of his
box, was about to throw overboard a cheese-rind. I had been
watching the man for some time, wondering where my share
was to come in. Disgusted at such wicked wastefulness I
eagerly sought the morsel for myself. It was given to me, but
with much the same expression that a rebel officer's face wore
358 NINTH NEW YORK HEAVY ARTILLERY.
when he saw a half-famished prisoner in Danville gnawing
ravenously at an old bone that he had picked up somewhere.
I believe the rebel called upon the Saviour of mankind in no
reverent manner to witness that he had never seen anything
so disgusting before. My donor had forgotten his own feelings
a few hours previously, when he, too, would have eaten anything
that he could find, clean or filthy.
Just a little ways below Butler's canal, in fact scarcely more
than around the bend, we are delighted at the sight of a man
standing on the shore holding a white flag. It is Colonel Mul-
ford, the Federal commissioner of exchange, and he is await-
ing us. We are all excitement, and naturally so. A few paces
back of him are a few soldiers, a sort of escort. Our boat
rounds up to the landing, which we learn is Aiken's, very ap-
propriately named, we thought, for it was just the place we
had been aching to reach for many a long and weary day.
The guards have difficulty in keeping us away from the side of
the vessel, so anxious are we to be the first off the boat and
so the first out of the Confederacy. Force only prevented many
jumping from the boat in our insane eagerness to touch the
shore. Colonel Mulford is hailed with as loud a cheer as we
are capable of giving, and soon the plank is run out for us
to debark. The survival of the fittest is in order, and those
who are the best preserved come to the front. Instead, how-
ever, of our getting off in the hit-or-miss order characteristic
of a Sunday-school picnic, we are obliged to get in line, that
we may be counted for the last time in the Confederacy. For
months I had been only a numeral. Every day somebody had
counted me, and I would have been missed as one less if I
had disappeared, but in no other way. No enemy had taken
my name nor apparently cared for it. Now I was about to
recover my identity, to be something more than a mathemati-
cal fact. I leave the vessel the eighteenth man, and Brutns-
like I could have embraced the earth upon which I trod. With
one accord we tried to do justice to our liberation by vociferous
shouting, but here, too, we fail. Though we had used our voices
during our imprisonment, it was in no boisterous manner, and
we were quite unequal to the occasion. Instead of the bold,
manly tones of old, we found our voices dwindled to childish
trebles and our utterances scarcely more than chicken peeps.
Near by are ambulances for the couvevance of those who
PRISONERS OF WAR. 359
can not walk, and they are many. Can I walk? Yes, to Wash-
ington, if nwessary, if it only be northward, but I have over-
rated my strength. The sight of friendly faces and the breath
of freedom have intoxicated me, and I am not conscious of my
own weakness. Three miles intervene between us and the
vessel that is to take us homeward. We set our faces with
much determination towards Varina, where we are to be re-
ceived. Weariness is an absurdity. But Dame Nature tolerates
no nonsense. She is not enthusiastic. Legs that have had no
other sustenance than that afforded by scanty rations of corn-
dodger for long months soon weaken. We effervesce quickly,
and the distance at first so insignificant grows to a long and
tedious march. Many could not make it and had to be picked
up by the ambulances. However, the end comes at last, and
as we rise a little hillock and see the reception provided for
us, tears start from many an eye. It is the 22d of February,
Washington's birthday, and all the bunting that the military
and shipping possessed was flung to the breezes. ^Tiat a sight
for flag-hungry eyes! To my mind there is nothing lacking in
the way of beauty in the American flag. Poets and orators
have descanted upon its glories, but they have never done it
jnstice, simply because it is impossible. There are thoughts
in the soul too sublime for utterance, and such I think must
be those of a man whom necessity has separated from his
country for a time, and to whose view comes suddenly the em-
blem of all that the patriot holds dear, that for which he would
offer up his life if necessary. To add to the pleasures of the
hour a mounted band, said to be from Massachusetts, was play-
ing national airs. It was a greeting long to be remembered.
Red. white and blue in color harmonized perfectly with the
same in sound. '"The Star Spangled Banner" from brazen throats
was wafted back by gaudy pennons, whose brilliant hues flashed
from every mast, and rainbow-like encircled ship and cordage.
"Man shall not live by bread alone" was uttered long ago, and
its truth is not disputed. Equally true is its converse that
man can not live on sentiment. For us. those vessels contained
good honest food and we knew it, and we stood not on the
order of our going as we approached them. We were a hard
looking lot. Ragged beyond description, and as filthy as
ragged. Long contact with the floors of our prison-houses had
not kept our garments over nice. Hunger was evident in every
360 NINTH NEW YORK HEAVY ARTILLERY.
look and movement. It was no trifling task to feed such a
herd. Now that we were so near something to eat, it seemed
as if we must famish before food could be furnished to us. A
waiter at the tables of the officers goes through our midst with
a pail of refuse, intending to throw it overboard. He is at once
set upon bj hungry men who would rob the pail of its contents,
to such an insane pitch has their hunger risen. It is only by
main force that he breaks through the crowd and throws away
the filth, saluted, however, by a perfect howl of rage from the
disappointed prisoners, who manifest a disposition to throw
him over along with the garbage.
"Fall in for rations," is the most welcome remark that we
have heard in many a day, and it needs no repetition, for we
are there immediately. Four hardtack each, a small piece of
boiled salt pork and a quart of coffee were the items given us,
it being presumed that in our enfeebled condition a greater
quantity would be harmful; but I had gauged my stomach
differently, and I was certain that small amount would not
do for me. It was an easy matter to receive my portion and
then slipping around to another point get a second share. I
doubled the rations of hard bread and pork, and after stowing
all this away where it was safe, I wrapped an old bed cover
that I had found about me and sought my couch for the night,
said couch being the deck of the vessel. Were my dreams pleas-
ant? No follower of the advice in Thanatopsis ever laid him-
self down to happier sleep.
Our ship was the "George Leary," and when I went to sleep
she was quietly flying her colors at her dock called Varina.
When I awoke she was well on her way to Annapolis. There
was little to vary the monotony of eating and sleeping till we
reached Annapolis, which was on the morning of February 24th.
We leave our floating quarters and file through the grounds
of the United States Naval School, and are soon drawn up be-
fore the headquarters in College Green Barracks. This depot
was thus named from its occupying the back premises of St.
John's College, an Episcopal institution, whose most famous
graduate, I was repeatedly told while in Annapolis, was Rev-
erdy Johnson, for many years a distinguished member of the
United States Senate from Maryland. There was a curious
company of paroled men standing by to greet us. Much to my
surprise some one from the throng called out, "Is that you.
PRISONERS OF WAR. 361
Roe?"' I had to confess that it was Roe, or what was left of
him. My saluter was one Schiffer, a member of the 5th New
York Cavalry, and a fellow worker of mine in the disbursing
office at Auburn, N. Y. After handshakes and mutual inquiries
as to how we got there, he asks me if I am hungry. To this
I have only to tell him to look at me. It is enough. He dis-
appears only to reappear with a whole loaf of bread, a huge
piece of boiled beef, and two big cucumber pickles. To divide
my prizes with my nearest neighbor, Charlie Cater, is the work
of a moment. Another moment suffices to get rid of the food,
at any rate of all external indications. Schiffer continues his
kind offices by asking me if I wouldn't like some money. To this
proposition I am nothing loth, and a couple of dollars are speed-
ily transferred from him to me. Before breaking ranks we are
furnished with certain necessary utensils and told when and
where to get our rations; but I was too hungry to wait for any
cook-housesignal.so as quickly as possible I made my way to the
sutler's and invested in about a foot of Bologna sausage and a
dozen ginger cookies. With these I proceeded to the quarters
assigned me and there endeavored again to satisfy my hunger.
I had not more than eaten this last supply when the bugle
summoned us to the cook-house for food. I took my quart cup
for coffee and another for bean soup. My cups were filled,
whatever my own condition was. It was not till I had done
justice to this last installment that I began to be at all satisfied.
I may as well state right here that hunger to the recently
paroled prisoner was like the thirst ascribed to the drunkard,
absolutely insatiable. To paraxjhrase the words of the hymn,
we ate, but ever more were hungry. Many a man lost his life
through indiscretion in eating. I must think that I owed my
own life to the fact that my stomach was tolerably new, and
so far as I was concerned, had been pretty well used, i. e.. I
had never abused it by excesses of any sort. The middle-aged
men and those who had been hard drinkers found the new
ordeal a very severe one. As I regard the matter now, I wonder
what I did with so much food, but it was no wonder to me
then. The fifty-seven dollars of half ration money paid to me
at the barracks was nearly all expended in what I called get-
ting even with time. If this was money for food that I had not