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PRISON LIFE IN ANDERSON VILLE" 
 
The Beloved Teacher in After Years. 
 
1/ 
 
 "Prison Life in Andersonville " 
 
 With Special Reference to the 
 Opening: of Providence Spring 
 
 by 
 John L. Maile 
 
 A Veteran of Company F, Eighth Regiment Michigan 
 Volunteer Infantry and afterward assigned as Lieutenant in 
 the Twenty-eighth U. S. C. T., and for a time an unwilling 
 guest in the Confederate Military prisons at Lynchburg and 
 Danville, Va., Andersonville, Ga., Florence, S. C, and Sal- 
 isbury, N. C. 
 
 One flag, one land, one heart, one hand, 
 One Nation evermore." 
 
 — O. W. Holmes. 
 
 GRAFTON PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 WEST COAST MAGAZINE 
 LOS ANGELES. 
 

 F&/Z 
 
 
 ■ At 
 
 
 & 
 
 Copyright 1912 
 
 
 BY 
 
 
 John l. maile 
 
 
 os Angeles. Cal. 
 
 u. s. A. 
 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 PRESS OF WEST COAST MAGAZINE 
 LOS ANGELES. CALIFORNIA 
 
 gCU31222I /) 
 
 It 
 
 
Commendation 
 
 That the following narrative of Southern 
 prison life should be written so many years 
 after the occurrence of the events described 
 is explained by the fact that the author has 
 been urged by many friends to put on record 
 his descriptions that have interested many 
 people in the East, in the Interior and in the 
 West. 
 
 To Members of the Grand Army of the Re- 
 public, of the Woman's Relief Corps, allied 
 organizations, and readers generally, I am glad 
 to commend this book as giving a more partic- 
 ular account of the opening of Providence 
 Spring than has before appeared. 
 
 Appreciation of the strenuous days of the 
 great Civil War will be revived, and the mem- 
 ories of Veterans, not a few will be refreshed 
 by this interesting story. 
 
 Commander-in-Chief of the Grand Army of 
 the Republic. 
 
 Princeton, Illinois, 
 March 2, 1912. 
 
I 
 
Four years of war life. 
 In five Confederate prisons. 
 
 The Author in 
 
 1860. 
 
 The Year Before Enlistment. 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 Dedicated to the Woman's Relief Corps, whose ten- 
 der, thoughtful care has preserved the 
 sacred memorials of the war, and 
 to the memory of my 
 
 COMRADES 
 
 in arms 
 who have an- 
 swerer the final 
 call; to the age- worn 
 remnant who still linger 
 behind, and to the younger 
 patriots of the present generation, 
 to whom it is given, in the happier 
 days of peace, to fight for their country 
 the bloodless battles of righteousness and truth. 
 
TABLE of CONTENTS 
 
 Chapter. 
 
 I. The Writer's Credentials . 
 
 II. View of a Confederate Prison 
 
 III. The Prison Commisariat 
 
 IV. A Dearth of Water . 
 V. A Cry to Heaven . . 
 
 VI. Unsealing of the Spring 
 
 VII. Was It a Miracle ? . . 
 
 VIII. Deliverance .... 
 
 IX. An Incident by the Way 
 
 X. A Sequel 
 
 Appendix. 
 
 Page. 
 19 
 
 27 
 
 35 
 53 
 61 
 65 
 72 
 85 
 93 
 103 
 
 Page. 
 . 116 
 
 A. Contributory Testimony . . . 
 
 B. Responsibility for Prison Treatment 119 
 
 C. Woman's Relief Corps Memorial . 123 
 
 D. A Memorial Day Meditation . . .135 
 
 Rev. H. H. Proctor, D. D. 
 of Atlanta. 
 
 E. Permanent Honors for Confederate 
 
 Heroes 141 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 The Author : As Prospective Soldier. 
 
 As Present Writer. 
 Plan of the Prison Pen. 
 View of Interior and Foreground. 
 A Dream. 
 
 The Broken Stockade. 
 
 The Spring and Women of the Relief Corps. 
 Adventure in Wilmington Hospital. 
 The Beloved Teacher. 
 
 The Michigan Monument in Anderson ville. 
 The Andersonville Cemetery. 
 
A Personal Foreword 
 
 The establishment and perpetuity of 
 our Union have been secured by the 
 sacrifices of war. The Declaration of 
 Independence preceded seven weary 
 years of conflict, whose culminat- 
 ing sufferings were experienced in 
 the British prison ships and in the win- 
 ter camp at Valley Forge. In this con- 
 test the patriotic soldiers of the north 
 and of the south made common cause, 
 and what they did and what they suf- 
 fered indicates a measure of the endur- 
 ing worth of our national life. The 
 story of revolutionary days finds an 
 enlarged counterpart in the sufferings 
 of the civil war. 
 
 A phase of the great struggle is 
 recalled in the following narrative of 
 events, which belongs to a rapidly reced- 
 ing past. Soon no survivor will be left 
 to tell the tale ; hence the desirability of 
 putting it into permanent form before 
 
it fades altogether from recollection. 
 To some the story of the breaking out of 
 Providence Spring may seem to have 
 been given undue prominence in this 
 record ; but it is around that event that 
 these reminiscences gather, and the cir- 
 cumstances attending were so indel- 
 ibly stamped upon the memory of the 
 writer that they call for expression. 
 Probably he was the youngest of the 
 group of Andersonville prisoners who 
 participated in the concert of prayer 
 that preceded the unsealing of the foun- 
 tain, and on that account he may be the 
 only survivor. 
 
 In the course of the narrative un- 
 pleasant things have been referred to 
 in the interests of truth, but nothing has 
 been set down in malice. The Great 
 Healer has closed up many wounds of 
 hearts as well as of bodies, and the grass 
 has grown green over the graves of 
 buried controversies. The boys in gray 
 and the boys in blue now fraternize 
 around common campfires and under a 
 common flag. But while the writer has 
 none save the kindliest feelings toward 
 his brothers of the lost cause, he cannot 
 
help rejoicing that alike in the clash 
 of arms, and in the more peaceful con- 
 flict of ideas which has followed, the 
 principles for which he and others bled 
 and suffered have gained the victory 
 and are among the things which never 
 perish from the earth. 
 
''We are coming. Father Abraham — three hun- 
 dred thousand more, 
 
 From Mississippi's winding stream and from 
 New England's shore. 
 
 We leave our plows and workshops, our wives 
 and children dear. 
 
 With hearts too full for utterance, with but a 
 silent tear; 
 
 We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly 
 before — 
 
 We are coming, Father Abraham — three hun- 
 dred thousand more. 
 
 "If you look across the hilltops that meet the 
 northern sky, 
 
 Long lines of moving dust your vision may 
 descry ; 
 
 And now the wind, an instant, tears the cloudy 
 veil aside, 
 
 And floats aloft our spangled flag in glory and 
 in pride; 
 
 And bayonets in the sunlight gleam, and bands 
 brave music pour — 
 
 We are coming, Father Abraham, three hun- 
 dred thousand more. 
 
 "If you look up all our valleys, where growing 
 harvests shine, 
 
 You may see our sturdy farmer boys fast form- 
 ing into line ; 
 
 And children, from their mothers' knees, are 
 pulling at the weeds, 
 
 And learning how to reap and sow, against 
 their country's needs; 
 
 A farewell group stands weeping at every cot- 
 tage door — 
 
 We are coming, Father Abraham — three hun- 
 dred thousand more." 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE WRITER'S CREDENTIALS. 
 
 The writer of the following narrative 
 feels justified in calling attention to his 
 military record in order that he may be 
 furnished with a warrant for inviting 
 the attention of readers to the matters 
 herein described, Broadly speaking, his 
 record is that he saw nearly four years 
 of active service, including ten months 
 of confinement in Confederate prisons 
 and three months in hospitals and 
 parole camps. 
 
 Given more in detail it would be as 
 follows: He enlisted at the age of 
 seventeen, on September 2, 1861, at 
 Hastings in the Eighth Regiment Mich- 
 igan Volunteer Infantry; Company F 
 of which 1ST. H. Walbridge was Captain ; 
 Traverse Phillips, First Lieutenant ; 
 Jacob Maus, Second Lieutenant, and 
 John D. Sumner, Orderly Sergeant. 
 
 19 
 
20 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 The Eighth was known as the famous 
 "wandering" regiment of Michigan — 
 ex-Governor Col. William M. Fenton, 
 Commander. 
 
 His regiment was mustered in at 
 Grand Rapids and journeyed via De- 
 troit, Cleveland and Pittsburg to Wash- 
 ington, going into camp on Meridian 
 Hill overlooking the capitol. On Octo- 
 ber 19th, with his regiment, he em- 
 barked from Annapolis on the steam- 
 ship Vanderbilt, taking part in the 
 Dupont Expedition to the South Caro- 
 lina coast and occupancy of Beaufort 
 and the Sea Islands. 
 
 He was in engagements on Coosaw 
 river, and at the bombardment of Fort 
 Paluski off Savannah. While his regi- 
 ment was in the campaign of James 
 Island, near Charleston, he was in the 
 Signal Corps service on the Beaufort 
 river. In April the regiment sailed to 
 Virginia ; he was at the second Bull-Run 
 in July, and with the Maryland cam- 
 paign of South Mountain, Antietam; 
 the succeeding Fredericksburg fighting 
 
The Writer's Credentials 21 
 
 and thence via Kentucky to Vicksburg 
 and Jackson, Mississippi. 
 
 In the autumn of '63 he marched via 
 Cumberland Gap to East Tennessee and 
 took part in conflicts at Blue Springs, 
 Lenoir Station, Campbell's Station, the 
 siege of Knoxville, and defense of Fort 
 Saunders. After re-enlistment with his 
 comrades in January he marched over 
 the mountains nearly two hundred miles 
 in ten days through deep snow to the 
 railroad at Crab Orchard, Kentucky. 
 This severe ordeal was followed by a 
 brief respite of a thirty days' furlough 
 from Cincinnati to Michigan. 
 
 In April, 1864, the regiment rejoined 
 the Ninth Army Corps at Annapolis, 
 and on May 3rd he was, after examina- 
 tion in Washington, confirmed for a 
 commission as Lieutenant. On the 4th, 
 he overtook his regiment camping near 
 the Rappahannock river ; on the evening 
 of the 5th the vicinity of the Rapidan 
 river was reached in full view of the 
 smoke of Sedgwick's artillery opening 
 the great battle of the Wilderness. On 
 the afternoon of the 6th, his regiment 
 
22 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 was ordered into action when he with a 
 thousand others from the division was 
 taken prisoner and marched to Lee's 
 headquarters, where he saw the famous 
 general, whom he remembers as sitting 
 with great dignity of bearing upon his 
 horse, calmly viewing the situation. 
 And it was reported that he kindly re- 
 marked to a group of prisoners that 
 they must make the best of their pre- 
 dicament. On the 9th the examination 
 papers came for the new Lieutenant, 
 but he was now the guest of the Con- 
 federacy and could not be excused. 
 
 A comrade sent to his home the dis- 
 quieting message, "missing in action 
 and probably killed," but happily from 
 Orange Courthouse by the great kind- 
 ness of a Virginia Lieutenant a tele- 
 gram was forwarded by flag of truce to 
 his parents stating that he still survived. 
 The memorial services announced for 
 the following week were postponed and 
 are yet to take place. 
 
 Introductory experiences as a pris- 
 oner of war included many hours of 
 fasting, followed by a most exhaustive 
 
The Writer's Credentials 23 
 
 march of twenty-eight miles to Orange 
 Courthouse under close cavalry guard; 
 thence by rail to Gordonsville, where 
 the place of detention was a pen fre- 
 quently used for the rounding up of 
 cattle. At this point the prisoners were 
 usually relieved of any superfluous 
 clothing and outfit. 
 
 Fortunately the writer had discov- 
 ered in the crowd five members of his 
 regiment. He and they drew together 
 as companions in misfortune, and 
 formed a group in which each one was 
 to have a share and share alike of all 
 they possessed ; and they entered into a 
 solemn pledge to care for one another 
 in sickness. 
 
 Very early in the morning of our 
 night at Gordonville we w T ere aroused by 
 the sharp command, "Wake up there, 
 wake up there, you Yanks. Pall into 
 two ranks. Quick there,' ' given by a 
 Confederate sergeant. The occasion 
 was the arrival of a trainload of beef 
 cattle for the Confederate army, and 
 the master of transportation saw an op- 
 portunity to load the prisoners into the 
 
24 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 freight cars just made vacant and which 
 were to return to Lynchburg immedi- 
 ately. 
 
 To be thus unceremoniously aroused 
 from sleep and hustled into filthy cars 
 made us very indignant, but " There is 
 a divinity that shapes our ends ; rough- 
 hew them how we will, ' ' and in the con- 
 fusion of moving in the twilight, and 
 the absence of inspection we got off scot 
 free from the usual ceremony of being 
 stripped of superabundant clothes and 
 accouterments. Thus our group of six 
 were each left in possession of a blan- 
 ket, a section of shelter tent, a haver- 
 sack,, a tin cup and plate, a knife, a 
 fork, a spoon, and such scanty clothing 
 as we had on. The extras we possessed 
 were a frying pan, a file, and several 
 pocket knives, two or three towels, a 
 small mirror, and a thin piece of mot- 
 tled soap. The latter was used exclu- 
 sively for a Sunday morning wash of 
 hands and face until it melted away. 
 
 This unusual amount of equipment 
 was kept as inconspicuous as possible 
 and was safely carried through the pris- 
 
The Writer's Credentials 25 
 
 ons at Lynchburg and Danville, where 
 we awaited transportation to an un- 
 known destination, which proved to be 
 the military inferno of Andersonville, 
 in southwestern Georgia, to reach which 
 we rode more than seven hundred miles 
 from the battlefield packed fifty and 
 sixty in a freight car, with twenty or 
 thirty of our number on the top. 
 
 The locomotives, which burned pitch 
 pine, emitted clouds of acrid smoke that, 
 mingled with dust arising from the 
 roadbed, enveloped the train in a 
 gloomy, suffocating pall. Mile after 
 mile the worn, rattling freight cars and 
 wheezing engine crept along the right- 
 of-way, which, as a narrow lane, thread- 
 ed the interminable pitch-pine forests 
 that admitted no stirring breeze. 
 
 On Sunday morning we arrived in the 
 beautiful city of Augusta, Georgia. 
 Our train was sidetracked on a princi- 
 pal thoroughfare whose borders were 
 embowered in luxuriant foliage which 
 screened attractive homes, whence the 
 church bells were calling the summer- 
 dressed occupants. On the sidewalk 
 
26 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 opposite from the train groups of the 
 people loitered to gaze upon the grimy, 
 famished prisoners who swarmed upon 
 the tops of the freight cars and formed 
 a sweltering crowd within. 
 
 Several ladies deferred their church- 
 going, re-entered their houses, emerged 
 with baskets filled with sandwiches, 
 crossed the street to the side of the train 
 and, overcoming the objections of the 
 guards, handed out the precious food 
 to the grateful men, who responded 
 with their most courteous thanks. 
 
 This little piece of genuine chivalry 
 was the one bright spot in the torturing 
 journey, and was matched by the sensi- 
 bilities of some Southern ladies, who 
 later viewing the interior of Anderson- 
 ville from the stockade platform, turned 
 away their faces weeping. 
 
Ground Plan of Andersonville Stockade. 
 
 Description: Fig. 1, Keeper's House; 2, "P. Spring"; 3,. Nat'l 
 Monument; 4, Purchased Property; 5, Stockade; 6, Outer Stockade; 
 7, Deadline; 8, Forts and Batteries; 9, Main Fort; 10, -Gallows; 
 11, Magazine; 12, Capt. Wirtz' Headquarters; 13, To Cemetery; 
 14, Wells and Tunnels; 15, Dead House; 16, Guard Camp; 17, Road 
 to Station; 18, Creek; 19, North Gate; 20, South Gate; 21, Flag 
 Pole. 
 
 ^Toward the close of the war great bounties were paid for re- 
 cruits in northern cities. Many desperate characters enlisted for 
 this money, intending to desert at the first opportunity. The vigi- 
 lence of Genl. Grant forced them into battle. Many were captured 
 and landed in Andersonville. Here they conspired to rob and mur- 
 der fellow prisoners. Capt. Wirtz convened a trial court composed 
 of prisoners who observed all the forms of law in the trial of these 
 desperadoes. Six of them were found guilty of murder and were 
 hung. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 AN INSIDE VIEW OF A CONFEDERATE PRISON. 
 
 At the time of our incarceration in 
 Andersonville, the crisis of the war of 
 the rebellion was reached. General 
 Grant was fighting the great battles of 
 the Wilderness in Virginia ; the invest- 
 ment of Petersburg was about to begin, 
 and General Lee was resisting the im- 
 pact of the Federal forces with unsur- 
 passed skill and heroism. General 
 Sherman was also hastening his prepa- 
 rations to penetrate the vitals of the 
 Confederacy by his famous " March to 
 the Sea." 
 
 Skirmishes by the contending forces 
 were of daily occurrence, and frequent- 
 ly battles were fought that now loom 
 large in history. To bury the dead was 
 not difficult ; but the care of the wound- 
 ed was a grave concern to both armies. 
 An affair of still greater magnitude was 
 the gathering up of the captured officers 
 
 21 
 
28 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 and soldiers, the transporting of them 
 hundreds of miles, and the placing of 
 them in prisons for safe keeping. 
 
 The Confederate authorities adopted 
 a simple and logical plan. Foodstuffs 
 for their armies could not be gathered 
 in war-swept Virginia, nor to any 
 great extent from the border States. In 
 Georgia and Alabama, in parts of the 
 Carolinas, Mississippi and Louisiana 
 faithful slave labor produced an abun- 
 dant supply of rice, corn and bacon, 
 sweet potatoes and beans. 
 
 To transport these bulky materials to 
 the armies of Lee, Hood and Johnson 
 required every locomotive and freight 
 car that could be mustered on Southern 
 railroads. Hence the northward-bound 
 trains were heavily laden. Those going 
 southward were empty, and were avail- 
 able to carry away the thousands of 
 Union prisoners. At several points in 
 the South Atlantic and Gulf States, 
 stockade prisons were set up, notably 
 that in Southwestern Georgia, named 
 after an adjacent hamlet, " Anderson- 
 ville.' ' 
 
View of a Confederate Prison 29 
 
 This celebrated place of confinement 
 for Federal prisoners below the rank of 
 commissioned officer was located about 
 sixty-two miles from Macon. It con- 
 sisted of a stockade made of pine logs 
 twenty-five feet long, set upright in a 
 trench five feet deep, inclosing some six- 
 teen acres, afterwards enlarged to 
 twenty-six acres. 
 
 This inclosure was oblong in form, 
 with its longest dimension in a general 
 north and south direction, and had two 
 gates in its western side, near the north 
 and south ends respectively. It was 
 commanded by several stands of artil- 
 lery, comprising sixteen guns, located 
 at a distance on rising ground. From 
 four directions the guns could sweep the 
 prison interior with grapeshot or shells. 
 
 A line of poles was planted along the 
 lengthwise center of the pen. We were 
 informed that if the men gathered in 
 unusual crowds between the range of 
 the poles and the north and south gates, 
 the cannon would open upon us. 
 
 A report was circulated among us to 
 the effect that General Sherman had 
 
30 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 started an expedition to release us ; and 
 we were informed that if his troops ap- 
 proached within seven miles of the 
 stockade the prisoners would be mowed 
 down by grapeshot. The fact is that one 
 of his generals proposed a sortie that 
 never was made. " About July 20, 1864, 
 General Stoneman was authorized at his 
 own desire to march (with cavalry) on 
 Macon and Andersonville in an effort 
 to rescue the National prisoners of war 
 in the military prisons there." 
 
 Outside and against the stockade 
 platforms for guards were placed two 
 or three rods apart, and were so con- 
 structed that the sentinel climbed a lad- 
 der and stood waist high above the top 
 of the wall and under a board roof, 
 which sheltered him from the sun and 
 rain. 
 
 Each of the guards faced the vast 
 mass of prisoners and was ordered to 
 closely watch the dead line before and 
 below him half way to his comrade on 
 his right and left. 
 
 The "dead line" formed a complete 
 circuit parallel to the inside of the 
 
View of a Confederate Prison 31 
 
 stockade and about twenty feet there- 
 from. It consisted of a narrow strip of 
 board nailed to a row of stakes, which 
 were about four feet high. " Shoot any 
 prisoner who touches the "dead line" 
 was the standing order to the guards. 
 Several companies from Georgia regi- 
 ments were detailed for the duty, and 
 their muskets were loaded with "buck 
 and ball" (i. e., a large bullet and two 
 buckshot). The day guard at the stock- 
 ade consisted of one hundred and 
 eighty-six men; the day reserve of 
 eighty-six men. The night reserve con- 
 sisted of one hundred and ten men ; the 
 outlay pickets of thirty-eight men. 
 
 A sick prisoner inadvertently placing 
 his hand on the dead line for support, or 
 one who was "moon blind" running 
 against it, or anyone touching it with 
 suicidal intent, would be instantly shot 
 at, the scattering balls usually striking 
 others than the one aimed at. 
 
 The intervening space between the 
 wall and the dead line was overgrown 
 with weeds, and was occasionally tested 
 by workmen with long drills to ascertain 
 
32 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 the existence of tunnels. In attempting 
 to escape by this means the prisoners 
 endeavored to emerge at night some dis- 
 tance from the stockade and take to the 
 woods. To frustrate such attempts, 
 which would inevitably be discovered at 
 roll-call the following morning, man- 
 tracking hounds were led by mounted 
 men on a wide circuit around the prison, 
 with the well-nigh universal result that 
 the trail was struck and the fugitive 
 taken. 
 
 Later a stockade was erected parallel 
 to the first, and some ten or twelve rods 
 beyond. Tunnels could not be carried 
 so far with the means available. They 
 were dug with knives and the dirt was 
 taken out in haversacks or bags drawn 
 in and out by a cord. The work of dig- 
 ging was usually carried on at night. 
 During the day a sick man lay over the 
 tunnel's mouth in a tent or under a 
 blanket. That the roll-call sergeant 
 might not discover the fresh earth, it 
 was sifted early in the morning from 
 the pocket and down the trouser leg of 
 a comrade, who walked unconcernedly 
 
View of a Confederate Prison 33 
 
 about. The little grains of earth which 
 he dropped were soon trodden under 
 foot. 
 
 To increase the difficulty of tunnel 
 escape, slaves and teams were employed 
 to build piles of pitch-pine along the 
 cleared space beyond the outer stockade. 
 At night, when these were lighted, a line 
 of fires was made which illuminated a 
 wide area. From these fires arose col- 
 umns of dense smoke, which in the sul- 
 try air of a midsummer night hung like 
 a pall over the silent city of disease and 
 starvation. Yet the city was not wholly 
 quiet, for undertones of thousands of 
 voices that murmured during the day at 
 night died away into the low moans of 
 the sick and the expiring, or rose into 
 the overtones of the outcry of distress- 
 ful dreams. In the edge of the gloom 
 beyond the fires, patrols paced to and 
 fro until the dawn. Every evening the 
 watch-call sounded, "Post number one, 
 nine o 'clock and all is well. ' ' This cry 
 was repeated by each sentinel until it 
 had traveled around the stockade back 
 to the place of starting. "Nine and a 
 
34 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 half o'clock and all is well," was next 
 spoken, and likewise repeated. Thus 
 every half hour from dark to daylight 
 the time was called off, and this grim 
 challenge greeted our ears every night 
 until the survivors bade the Confeder- 
 acy good-bye. Not that our captors 
 benevolently wished to increase the 
 sense of the shortness of the time until 
 our release, but to be assured that the 
 guards were keeping awake. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE PRISON COMMISSARIAT. 
 
 The least that can be said of the 
 prison sustenance is that it was exceed- 
 ingly slim. But while the per diem ra- 
 tions dealt out to an Andersonville 
 prisoner were too small for proper 
 maintenance, and much of the time in- 
 ferior in quality, yet the thirty-two 
 thousand to thirty-five thousand men 
 who had to be fed were as a rule prompt- 
 ly served. 
 
 To secure this result effective organi- 
 zation was necessary. It was accom- 
 plished as follows : Groups of two hun- 
 dred and seventy men were named de- 
 tachments and duly numbered. Every 
 detachment was divided into the first, 
 second and third nineties, each of which 
 was in charge of one of our own ser- 
 geants. The nineties, in turn, were di- 
 vided into the first, second and third 
 
 35 
 
36 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 thirties, which also were in charge of a 
 sergeant or corporal. 
 
 At ten o 'clock every forenoon a drum 
 call was beaten from the platform at the 
 south gate. At this signal the prisoners 
 fell into line by detachments, forming 
 as best they could in the narrow paths 
 that separated the small tents, blanket 
 shanties or dug-outs. At the same mo- 
 ment a company of Confederate ser- 
 geants entered the two gates for the 
 purpose of counting and recording the 
 number of the prisoners. To each of 
 these officers a certain number of de- 
 tachments were assigned. The men, un- 
 sheltered from the fierce sun-heat, had 
 perforce to remain standing during the 
 entire count. If a number less than that 
 of yesterday was in evidence, the Fed- 
 eral sergeant had to account for the defi- 
 cit. Sometimes a number of men were 
 too ill to stand up, so the line was held 
 the longer while the Confederate official 
 viewed the sick where they lay. 
 
 The bodies of those who had died 
 since the count of the previous day were 
 early in the morning carried to the 
 
 
The Prison Commissariat 37 
 
 south street and laid in a row until the 
 ration wagon could haul them to the 
 burying trench. On a card attached to 
 the wrist of the deceased was written by 
 the detachment sergeant, his name, 
 regiment and date of death. These 
 names were taken by the enumerator, 
 who verified the record as the bodies 
 were carried through the gate. Such 
 was the scarcity of clothing that gar- 
 ments of any value were taken by com- 
 rades from the dead before interment. 
 
 In the early summer prisoners were 
 occasionally detailed under guard to 
 carry the dead some distance from the 
 gate. On the return they were allowed 
 to gather up chips which had accumu- 
 lated from the hewing of stockade tim- 
 bers. The quantity a man, weakened by 
 hunger and disease, could bring in 
 would sell for five dollars, U. S. cur- 
 rency. Competition to get out on one of 
 these details became so intense that the 
 privilege was discontinued. 
 
 At four o'clock in the afternoon 
 rations of corn bread and bacon were 
 issued on the basis of the morning count 
 
38 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 of those who are able to stand up. Two 
 army wagons drawn by mules entered 
 the north and south gates simultaneous- 
 ly. They were piled high with bread, 
 thin loaves of corn bread or Johnny 
 cake, made of coarse meal and water by 
 our men who had been paroled for that 
 work. 
 
 A blanket was spread upon the ground 
 and the quantity for a detachment was 
 placed thereon in three piles; one for 
 every ninety, according to the number 
 of men able to eat. In like manner the 
 sergeants of nineties sub-divided the 
 piles to the thirties. 
 
 The writer had charge of a division 
 of thirty and distributed as follows: 
 His blanket was spread in front of his 
 shelter tent and on it he spread the 
 bread in as many pieces as there were 
 men counted in the morning. 
 
 Each man had his number and was 
 intently watching the comparative size 
 of the portions. " Sergeant," cries one, 
 pointing to a cube of bread, "That piece 
 is smaller than the one next to it." A 
 crumb is taken from the one and placed 
 
The Prison Commissariat 39 
 
 upon the other. The relative size of any 
 piece may be challenged by any member 
 of the thirty, for his life is involved. 
 
 The equalization is finally completed 
 to the satisfaction of all. The sergeant 
 then takes up a piece in his hand and 
 says, "Whose is this?" A designated 
 comrade looking the other way calls a 
 number. The owner steps up and takes 
 his portion. This process is repeated 
 until all are served. Some four or five 
 pounds of bacon are then cut on a board 
 into small pieces and issued in like 
 manner. 
 
 The cube of bread and morsel of meat 
 constitute the ration for twenty-four 
 hours. One-half may be eaten at once ; 
 the remainder should be put in the hav- 
 ersack for breakfast. If any one yields 
 to his insatiable hunger and eats the 
 whole for supper he has to fast until the 
 following evening and must then deny 
 himself and put away the portion for 
 the next morning's breakfast. Experi- 
 ment proved that strength was better 
 sustained by taking the scanty ration of 
 
40 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 food in two portions than by eating the 
 whole at once. 
 
 When the number of prisoners ex- 
 ceeded fifteen thousand, the facilities of 
 the cook-house were inadequate. There- 
 fore raw rations were issued alternate- 
 ly every two weeks to each side of the 
 prison. In this form the amount per 
 capita daily was a scant pint of corn 
 meal and a scrap of uncooked bacon. 
 
 Occasionally boiled rice and cow 
 beans were substituted for the meal, but 
 these were very difficult to issue in accu- 
 rate portions. Sometimes a quantity of 
 this glutenous food was carried in a 
 sleeve of a shirt or in the trouser's leg 
 tied at the end. 
 
 The supply of fuel for cooking was 
 wholly inadequate. Often the ration of 
 wood was ironically called a " tooth- 
 pick." It would be split into small 
 short splinters and two men would 
 sometimes combine their portions. 
 Water in a quart tin cup setting on 
 small blocks of clay could be brought 
 to a boil before the wood under it was 
 consumed. Into this water meal was 
 
The Prison Commissariat 41 
 
 stirred and, if the blaze could be yet fur- 
 ther economized, partially cooked mush 
 was the outcome. The sick could not, 
 however, do this work for themselves. 
 Many ate meal uncooked, but the ex- 
 periment soon ended life. 
 
 It may be observed that many of the 
 Andersonville prisoners were well sup- 
 plied with money. The Federal armies 
 were reclothed and paid off in the spring 
 of 1864. The new recruits and re-en- 
 listed veterans, in many instances, had 
 with them bounty money when cap- 
 tured. Greenbacks could be pressed 
 into the sole of a shoe, or placed inside 
 a brass button. In various ways money 
 was concealed about the person. 
 
 The authorities at Andersonville al- 
 lowed supplies to be sold to the pris- 
 oners for Federal money. Numerous 
 small restaurants flourished in the 
 stockade. From small clay ovens they 
 supplied fresh bread and baked meats. 
 Irish and sweet potatoes, string beans, 
 peas, tomatoes, melons, sweet corn, and 
 other garden products were abundantly 
 offered for sale. New arrivals were 
 
42 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 amazed to find these resources in the 
 midst of utter destitution and starva- 
 tion. 
 
 As this sketch is of the nature of per- 
 sonal experiences, the writer might tell 
 how, in his case, the question of increas- 
 ing the food supply was solved. A ra- 
 tion of fresh beef received by his thirty 
 consisted of a shank bone on which a 
 small amount of lean meat remained. 
 This latter was cut into portions about 
 the size of a little finger. These were 
 easily issued, but what shall be done 
 with the bone which towered on the 
 meat board above the diminutive strips 
 of beef? No tools were available by 
 which it could be broken up. One and 
 another cried out, "I don't want the 
 bone for a ration." " Count it out for 
 me." "I can't gnaw a bone." The 
 writer knew that a wealth of nutriment 
 was contained in the rich marrow and 
 oil—filled joints, and in view of the 
 unanimous rejection of the bone, said, 
 "Well, boys, if none of you want it, I 
 will take it as my portion. " " Agreed, ' ' 
 shouted the crowd, adding expressions 
 
The Prison Commissariat 43 
 
 like these, "Come, hurry up and call off 
 that meat; I'm hungry. The strips 
 were speedily issued, and, for the most 
 part, eaten at once. 
 
 The fortunate possessor of what was 
 a large soup bone borrowed from a com- 
 rade a kitchen knife with permission to 
 cut on the back of the same teeth, which 
 were made with a file procured from a 
 tent-mate. The steel of the blade was 
 exceedingly hard and by the time the 
 teeth were finished the file was worn 
 nearly smooth. However, this fact in- 
 sured that the teeth would hold their 
 edge. The bone was quickly cut in two 
 and the marrow dug out with a splinter. 
 What remained was melted out with 
 boiling water and a marrow soup was 
 prepared for six hungry patriots. Next, 
 the joints were sawed into slices and the 
 rich oil extracted therefrom with hot 
 water. Thus for two meals a generous 
 addition was made to our impoverished 
 menu. 
 
 Soon after, while splitting wood by 
 driving the knife into the end of a stick, 
 the blade was snapped off about one 
 
44 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 and one-half inches from the handle. 
 This disaster brought consternation, for 
 the owner valued his knife at five dol- 
 lars. However, a settlement was effected 
 by which the user retained the broken 
 parts and the worn-out file. The blade 
 was set into a split stick to be used as a 
 saw, as circumstances might require. 
 
 The broken end of the shank was 
 scraped on a brick to form a beveled 
 edge like a chisel. Later on, the fact 
 was demonstrated that these tools were 
 a providential preparation. The face of 
 the writer became diseased with the 
 much prevailing scurvy. A swollen 
 cheek, inflamed and bleeding gums with 
 loosening teeth, indicated the fact that 
 a hard fight for life must be put up. 
 How 7 shall it be done ? About this time 
 a stockade was built on three sides of an 
 enclosure attached to the north end of 
 the prison, thus making more room for 
 the thousands of additional prisoners 
 who were constantly arriving from 
 many battle fields. The intervening 
 wall w T as taken up and most of the tim- 
 ber sold to the prisoners. From one 
 
The Prison Commissariat 45 
 
 who had purchased a log, the writer ob- 
 tained the wood sufficient to make three 
 water pails; working on a two-thirds 
 share. 
 
 This material was delivered to the 
 writer in split strips about three inches 
 thick and four feet long. With the 
 knife-blade saw these sticks of hard pine 
 were slowly and laboriously cut into 
 lengths for staves which were split on a 
 curve by driving together several sharp- 
 pointed wedges into a circular grain of 
 the wood. Thus each stave was an arc of 
 the circumference of the tree. A day's 
 ration was traded for a board three 
 inches wide and thirty inches long. A 
 mortise was cut through this to receive 
 the knife-chisel, which was held in place 
 with a forked wedge after the manner 
 of a carpenter's plane. 
 
 This was the jointer on which the 
 edges of the staves were smoothed and 
 its upper end was placed on the knee 
 of the writer, who sat tailor fashion on 
 the ground, and the lower end was placed 
 in a hole in the earth. The pieces for 
 the bottom of the pail were split flat 
 
46 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 across the circular grain of the tree, and 
 the edges were also smoothed on the 
 jointer. For the want of truss hoops, 
 the problem of setting up the staves 
 seemed insurmountable. A sleepless 
 night was passed in thinking the mat- 
 ter through. At four o 'clock in the 
 morning the inspiration came, and the 
 solution was : Dig a hole in the ground 
 the form and slope of the prospective 
 pail. This was speedily done, and the 
 staves were successfully set half their 
 length in this mold, and the last one 
 driven home brought the whole into 
 shape. Two knapsack straps were 
 passed around the top of the pail and 
 held it together. It was then carefully 
 drawn out of the hole and hoops made 
 of split saplings were put in place, and 
 the handle of like material was made. 
 Precious food was bartered for these 
 split stems, and the resultant fasting 
 added to prevailing starvation nearly 
 cost the writer his life. 
 
 Pieces for the bottom were jointed, 
 placed on the ground and on them the 
 pail was set. A pencil was run round 
 
The Prison Commissariat 47 
 
 on this bottom and the end of each piece 
 was cut with saw and chisel wherever 
 the curved mark indicated. 
 
 Days of incessant labor with chisel 
 and a borrowed jackknife sufficed 
 to produce from hard pitch pine the 
 staves for the sides and bottom of a 
 water pail of the ordinary size. 
 
 When at last the pail was completed 
 so imperfect were the joints that meal 
 could be sifted through. Derisive laugh- 
 ter greeted the apparent failure of a pail 
 to hold water, through the joints of 
 which the light freely shone. How- 
 ever, the maker depended on the dry 
 wood of the staves swelling tight if only 
 the hoops proved strong enough to 
 stand the immense pressure. Happily, 
 this resulted and in triumph the first 
 made pail was handed over to the owner 
 of the log in payment for the wood 
 from which three pails could be made. 
 
 The second pail was more speedily 
 made and sold for $1.50 with which 
 the proprietor bought vegetables which 
 eaten raw cured the scurvy in his face. 
 
 During the following winter which 
 
48 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 was passed in the Confederate prison 
 at Florence, South Carolina, the shoes 
 worn by the most of our group, owing 
 to defective machine stitching, peeled 
 from the toe to the heel, causing almost 
 constantly damp feet, to the serious 
 detriment of health. 
 
 Again the writer was obliged to make 
 a fight for life. Recalling the process 
 of making his chisel, he scraped, on a 
 brick, the shank of his worn-out file into 
 a point like a pegging awl. A gum tree 
 knot served as a handle. A two-inch nut 
 from a car bolt was screwed to a handle 
 for a shoe hammer. A piece of soft 
 pine was whittled into a last. With the 
 knife-saw maple chips were cut into 
 right lengths for shoe pegs which were 
 shaped one by one. With this equip- 
 ment the loosened soles were tightly 
 pegged to the uppers. The shoes thus 
 made water tight contributed no little 
 to our chances of survival. 
 
 The writer afterwards mended shoes 
 for one of the wood-chopping party who 
 secured, of field negroes, sweet potatoes 
 which he brought with the working 
 
The Prison Commissariat 49 
 
 squad into the prison at evening, and 
 with them paid for the mending. These 
 were cooked by the writer and retailed 
 to the prisoners with large profit in U. 
 S. fractional currency. 
 
 Confederate money was secretly pur- 
 chased forty dollars for one, and with 
 this supplies could be lawfully bought 
 of the prison sutler. Bread per small 
 loaf, flour per pound, and a fair-sized 
 cabbage could be bought each for ten 
 dollars. We drove a flourishing trade 
 in hot cabbage soup with men who pos- 
 sessed any money; especially to those 
 who, without shelter, literally piled 
 themselves together for mutual warmth 
 during the piercing cold and rain of a 
 southern winter night. 
 
 The soup was made in the following 
 manner : A cabbage consisted of a stalk 
 with a tuft of leaves on the upper end 
 and a bunch of roots on the lower end. 
 The whole was washed clean and 
 chopped up fine with the knife-chisel. 
 The sliced leaves, stem and roots were 
 boiled in eight quarts of water until 
 made as tender as heat could do it. Into 
 
50 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 the green colored liquid was stirred 
 some flour thickening; the whole was 
 salted and a minced red pepper was 
 added for pungency, while a whole pep- 
 per floated on the surface as an adver- 
 tisement. 
 
 For a soup dipper a piece of pail hoop 
 was riveted to the side of a condensed 
 milk can, the two rivets being cut from 
 a copper cent with the chisel driven with 
 the shoe hammer. For soup plates a 
 canteen was melted apart and the two 
 halves formed each a plate. On ^Market 
 Square, down by the swamp, four slen- 
 der stakes were driven and thereon was 
 placed a pine shake, which formed the 
 soup counter. The soup kettle was cov- 
 ered with a piece of woolen shirt, which 
 kept in the heat. Very early each morn- 
 ing we opened up for business and a 
 line of shivering men in rags and near- 
 ly perished from exposure formed as 
 the soup brigade. The price per plate 
 
 ♦Market Square was a piece of made ground on the 
 edge of the swamp in the center of the prison. Here 
 men came together to barter trinkets they had made to 
 while away the time, to exchange parts of rations, and 
 to indulge generally, so far as they could, in the Yan- 
 kee instinct for trade. 
 
The Prison Commissariat 
 
 51 
 
 was a five-cent shinplaster of TJ. S. 
 fractional currency. The poor fellow 
 who had no money must needs go with- 
 out. As new prisoners ceased to arrive 
 the money supply was soon gathered up 
 and the prison sutler went away and 
 trade was brought to an end. 
 
 A DREAM 
 
 Our last plate of soup was sold to a 
 Maine soldier who paid for it his last 
 five cents. He w r as nearly naked and 
 incessantly shivered from the cold. The 
 writer found him the following morn- 
 ing, after a night of rain, to which he 
 was exposed, with his knees drawn up 
 
52 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 to his chin in the instinctive effort to 
 bring the surfaces of his body together 
 for warmth. With difficulty his frame 
 was straightened out for burial. 
 
 The profit of this business for several 
 weeks gave to our group of six one fairly 
 good meal each day and made possible 
 the survival of those of our number who 
 finally emerged from this awful prison 
 life. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A DEARTH OF WATER. 
 
 If the food supply of Andersonville 
 was bad, the water supply was worse. 
 To understand the situation and to see 
 how little was done to overcome the dif- 
 ficulties involved, and to make the most 
 of the existing facilities for the relief of 
 the suffering, one has to consider the 
 formation of this prison encampment. 
 
 The surface of the interior consisted 
 of two hillsides, sloping respectively 
 north and south towards the center 
 which was occupied by a swamp of near- 
 ly four acres. This was traversed by a 
 sluggish creek which was some five feet 
 wide and six inches deep, and made its 
 way along the foot of the south slope. 
 Up the stream were located the head- 
 quarters of Capt. Wirtz, the camps of 
 the Confederate artillery and infantry 
 and the cook-house for the prisoners. 
 
 53 
 
54 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 The drainage of these localities entered 
 the creek which flowed into the prison 
 through spaces between the stockade 
 timbers, and polluted the water which 
 was the chief supply of the prison, and 
 which, at midnight, in its clearest con- 
 dition, was the color of amber. The in- 
 tervening space at the foot of the north 
 hill was a wide morass, and when over- 
 flowed by rains became a vast cesspool 
 on which boundless swarms of flies set- 
 tled down and laid their eggs; which 
 were speedily hatched by the fervent 
 heat of the nearly tropical sun, and be- 
 came a horrible undulating mass. On 
 a change of wind the odor could be- de- 
 tected miles away; indeed it was re- 
 ported that the people of Macon peti- 
 tioned General Howell Cobb, the mili- 
 tary governor of Georgia, for a removal 
 of the prison located sixty miles away, 
 lest an awful pestilence sweep over their 
 country ! 
 
 The turkey buzzards, birds of ill omen, 
 would come up against the wind, alight 
 on the bare limbs of the tall pines over- 
 looking the prison, and circle over the 
 
A Dearth of Water 55 
 
 grizzled city as if waiting to descend for 
 a carrion feast. 
 
 When we entered the prison on May 
 23rd, our detachment of two hundred 
 and seventy men was scheduled fifty- 
 five, indicating the presenc of fourteen 
 thousand eight hundred and fifty pris- 
 oners. The number steadily rose until 
 a reported thirty-five thousand were 
 present at one time. As the arrivals in- 
 creased by hundreds and thousands, the 
 daily mortality was counted by scores 
 and hundreds, and many of the sick 
 were without shelter from the heat of 
 the pitiless sun. 
 
 As the killed and wounded are scat- 
 tered over the fields of the sanguinary 
 battle, so our dying sick lay around on 
 every hand. In the early summer, Capt. 
 Wirtz issued to the prisoners picks and 
 shovels, with which to dig wells for in- 
 creased water supply. From some of 
 these wells the men started tunnels 
 through which to escape. Discovering 
 this, the commander withdrew the tools, 
 and ordered the wells to be filled up. 
 Permission to keep one of them open 
 
56 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 was purchased by a group of prisoners. 
 It <vas sunk to a necessary depth, cov- 
 ered with a platform and trap door, and 
 supplied about one thousand men. 
 
 Aside from this well, for the favored 
 few, the only water supply was from 
 about twelve feet of the length of the 
 creek which reached between the dead- 
 line and the bridge connecting the two 
 divisions of the prison. A terrible 
 water famine set in, with the result that 
 many of the ailing ones became insane 
 from thirst. 
 
 In these unsanitary surroundings 
 there is a well authenticated case of a 
 man who was severely afflicted with 
 scurvy. As he lay in the place of filth 
 and stench, without medical attention 
 until gangrene of the lower limbs set in, 
 he realized that to save his life he must 
 lose his feet. No one of his comrades 
 had the nerve to perform the necessary 
 operation, so he obtained an old knife 
 and disjointed his pedal extremities. 
 
 "In November, 1863, an order was issued for 
 the establishment of a prison in Georgia, the 
 granary of the eastern part of the Confederacy, 
 
A Dearth of Water 57 
 
 and for this purpose a tract of land was selected 
 near the town of Andersonville. A stockade 
 15 feet high, inclosing I6V2 acres, was built, and 
 this, in June, 1864, was enlarged to 26 x /2 acres, 
 but 3!/4 acres near the center were too marshy 
 to be used. A small stream ran through the 
 inclosure, which, it was thought, would furnish 
 water sufficient for drinking and for bathing. 
 The trees within the stockade were cut down 
 and no shelter was provided for the expected 
 inmates, who began to arrive in February, 
 1864, before the rude prison was completed ac- 
 cording to the design, and before an adequate 
 supply of bacon for their use had been re- 
 ceived. Prisoners continued to come until, on 
 the 5th of May, there were about 12,000, which 
 number went on increasing until in August it 
 exceeded 32,000. Their condition was one of 
 extreme wretchedness. Those who came first 
 erected rude shelters from the debris of the 
 stockade; later arrivals burrowed in the 
 ground or protected themselves with any blan- 
 kets or pieces of cloth of which they had not 
 been deprived according to the practice of rob- 
 bing men who were taken prisoners which pre- 
 vailed on both sides. Through an unfortunate 
 location of the baking and cooking houses on 
 the creek above the stockade the water became 
 polluted before it reached the prisoners, so 
 that to obtain pure water they must dig wells. 
 After a severe storm a spring broke out within 
 the inclosure, and this became one of the main 
 
58 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 reliances for drinking water. The sinks were 
 constructed over the lower part of the stream, 
 but the current was not swift enough to carry- 
 away the ordure, and when the stream was 
 swollen by rain and overflowed, the foecal 
 matter was deposited over a wide area, pro- 
 ducing a horrible stench. This was the famous 
 prison of Andersonville. " — From Rhodes' His- 
 tory of the United States, Vol. V, pp. 483-515. 
 
 "The history of Andersonville prison pen has 
 shocked the world with its tales of horror, of 
 woe, and of death, before unheard of and un- 
 known to civilization. No pen can describe, no 
 artist can paint, no imagination comprehend 
 their fearful and unutterable sufferings. 
 
 "Into the narrow confines of this prison 
 were herded more than thirty-five thousand en- 
 listed men, whose only fault was they 'wore 
 the Union blue,' many of them the bravest and 
 best, the most devoted and heroic of those 
 grand armies that carried the flag of the Union 
 to final victory. For long and weary months 
 they suffered and died for that flag. Here they 
 suffered unsheltered from the burning rays of a 
 southern sun, or were drenched by the rain and 
 deadly dews of the night. All this while they 
 were in every stage of physical disease — hun- 
 gered, emaciated, starving. 
 
 "Is it a wonder that during the month of 
 August, 1864, one man died in every eleven 
 minutes, night and day, or that, for six months, 
 beginning April, 1864, one died every twenty- 
 
 
A Dearth of Water 59 
 
 two and one-half minutes night and day? This 
 should forever silence the assertion that men 
 would be taken prisoners rather than risk their 
 lives on the firing line. The lack of water was 
 the cause of much disease and suffering. Un- 
 der the most favorable circumstances the water 
 supply was insufficient for one-quarter of the 
 number of men confined there. All the water 
 obtainable was from a sluggish creek that ran 
 through the grounds; and, in addition to this, 
 there were thirty-six hundred men acting as 
 guards camped on the bank of this stream be- 
 fore it reached the prison pen, and the water 
 became so foul no words can describe it." — 
 From ''A Sketch of Anderson ville, " by Mrs. 
 Lizabeth A. Turner, Chairman Andersonville 
 Prison Board. Journal of the Twenty-fifth Na- 
 tional Convention of the Woman's Belief Corps, 
 page 169. 
 
60 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 More things are wrought by prayer 
 Than this world dreams of." 
 
 — Tennyson. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 A CRY TO HEAVEN. 
 
 The bitter cry which arose from the 
 suffering camp was changed on the lips 
 of a few to an appeal to heaven. Where 
 else could men look in their dire extrem- 
 ity? One evening early in August the 
 sound of the old long metre doxology 
 was heard from the voices of a group 
 of men gathered around the solitary 
 pine stump in the enclosure, which was 
 situated at the end of the north street 
 of the prison where space was left for 
 the ration wagon to turn around. On 
 this stump was seated an emaciated 
 cavalry sergeant, Mr. Shepard, of Col- 
 umbus, Ohio, formerly an honored 
 preacher of the gospel. In days past 
 he had frequently been called upon to 
 offer prayer over the remains of some 
 deceased comrade, and now he led in 
 the old and well-known hymn to call 
 like-minded souls together. 
 
 61 
 
62 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 Some twenty-five unkempt, starving 
 men gathered around him and joined in 
 the familiar strain. What memories of 
 family worship and old-time services in 
 the meeting-house those words called 
 up. Said Brother Shepard in sub- 
 stance : "I have today read in the book 
 of Numbers of Moses striking the rock 
 from which water gushed out for the 
 ample supply of man and beast. I tell 
 you God must strike a rock in Ander- 
 sonville or we shall all die of thirst. 
 And if there is no rock here, He can 
 smite the ground and bring forth water 
 to supply our desperate needs. Of this 
 I am sure ; let us ask Him to do this. ' ' 
 
 Pointing to an uncombed, unwashed, 
 ragged comrade standing close by, he 
 said, "Will the brother from Chicago 
 pray?" He then successively called 
 on other acquaintances, distinguishing 
 them by their different localities at 
 home. All the prayers were poured out 
 in the one desire for water. 
 
 For perhaps an hour the meeting con- 
 tinued and closed with the doxology. 
 The words of the leader were, "Boys, 
 
A Cry to Heaven 63 
 
 when you awake during the night offer 
 to God a little prayer for water. Do 
 the same many times tomorrow, and let 
 us meet here in the evening to pray 
 again for water. ' ' 
 
 If memory be not at fault, these in- 
 dividual and collective petitions were 
 steadfastly offered from Monday even- 
 ing to Thursday evening. 
 
 For a month previous we had noticed 
 that a number of the stockade timbers 
 near the north gate had been loosened 
 by the percolating of the copious rain 
 and that they were sagging considerably 
 and had settled out of line. We won- 
 dered why they had been allowed to re- 
 main so long in this unsafe condition. 
 Was it a coincidence that after prayer 
 began to be offered the quartermaster 
 of the prison notified Capt. Wirtz that 
 stockade timbers were out of line and 
 should be set right ? He was ordered to 
 take a gang of slaves and make the 
 necessary repairs. About fifteen stal- 
 wart negroes were marched through the 
 main gate and turned into the twenty- 
 foot space between the dead-line and 
 
64 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 the wall. With pike poles the closely 
 adjoining posts were heaved into posi- 
 tion and the earth was closely tamped. 
 Then the workers faced about and 
 commenced digging a trench up the hill 
 nearly as wide as the space between the 
 dead-line and the stockade. A part of 
 the gang swung their picks into the red 
 clay which was shoveled agains the 
 timbers. Another set followed with 
 heavy rammers and pounded the whole 
 into a smooth, sloping surface which 
 was tamped closely to the base of the 
 wooden wall, making a perfect water- 
 shed, and thus preventing the further 
 loosening of the earth at the base of the 
 stockade. By Thursday evening the 
 broad trench with rounded bottom was 
 completed from the swamp up the dead 
 line space to the north gate. 
 
THE WOMANS RELIEF CORPS 
 
 'Today beneath our Nation's flag, 
 
 The old red, white and blue, 
 A band of noble women work 
 
 With a purpose just and true; 
 To aid and succor those who [ought 
 
 To save our honored land, 
 For home and freedom, God and right 
 
 Those earnest women stand." 
 
PROVIDENCE SPRING AND WOMEN OF THE RELIEF CORPS 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 UNSEALING OF THE SPRING. 
 
 On Friday morning an ominous still- 
 ness pervaded nature. By the middle of 
 the forenoon a dense, dark cloud was 
 noticed in the southwest quarter of the 
 horizon, slowly creeping upward. It 
 rose above the treetops majestic and 
 awful in appearance. A troop of small, 
 scurrying, angry-looking clouds seemed 
 to form an advancing line to the vast 
 mass of storm cloud. The onward move- 
 ment quickened, and soon the front of 
 the mountain of approaching cloud as- 
 sumed a gray appearance, caused by the 
 mighty downpour of water which more 
 nearly than anything else seemed a con- 
 tinuous cloudburst. 
 
 Crashes of thunder broke over our 
 heads and flashes of lightning swished 
 around us as if the air was filled with 
 short circuits. The awful moving wall 
 
 65 
 
66 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 came towards us rapidly and we under- 
 stood what was happening. 
 
 As the mighty deluge swept through 
 the clearing west of the prison, we 
 bowed our heads in preparation of sub- 
 mersion in the advancing waterspout. 
 When it came upon us the sensation was 
 as if a million buckets of water were 
 being poured upon us at once. The air 
 was so filled with the roaring, hissing 
 flood that we could not look up, but bent 
 forward to protect our faces, covering 
 our nostrils with our hands to preserve 
 a little breathing space. 
 
 Instantly rivulets of water poured 
 down over our bodies as if a hose were 
 discharging its stream on our shoulders, 
 and the surface of the filthy ground was 
 soon covered with a rush of muddy wa- 
 ter. The swamp space as quickly filled 
 with great swirling eddies. The upper 
 stockade served as a dam across the 
 creek, which in a few minutes became 
 swollen into the dimensions of a river. 
 Driftwood bore down upon the stockade, 
 causing it to give way with a mighty 
 crash. The heavy timbers were whirled 
 
Unsealing of the Spring 67 
 
 across the prison as if they were mere 
 straws, and by the force of their impact 
 carried away the rear stockade. From 
 the batteries solid shot was fired over 
 our heads to warn us that if we attempt- 
 ed to escape through the opening in the 
 wall we would be swept by the cannon. 
 The roar of the guns chimed harmoni- 
 ously with the thundering of the storm. 
 In the awful suspense of such over- 
 whelming conditions the progress of 
 time could not be measured. The down- 
 pour may have continued twenty min- 
 utes, perhaps half an hour, or possibly 
 longer. So great was its fury that we 
 felt it must soon end or it would end us. 
 Fortunately, it ceased as suddenly as it 
 came. Looking up, we saw the great 
 water wall retreating. The sun burst 
 forth with unwonted vigor and shone 
 with brilliant effect upon the receding 
 rain. A dense fog arose from the dry- 
 ing garments of thirty-five thousand hu- 
 man bodies and from the exhalations of 
 surrounding surfaces. As the heavy 
 mist cleared away, the drenched and for- 
 lorn prisoners tried to be merry. They 
 
68 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 viewed with complacency the breach in 
 the walls of the infamous pen and 
 wished that every timber had been lev- 
 eled to the earth. 
 
 A witty comrade on the south hill of 
 the prison, thinking to convey desired 
 information to the north side, shouted 
 at the top of his voice, l ' Water ! Water ! ' ' 
 Men on the north side, as by a common 
 impulse, answered back, and the two 
 great companies in turn shouted the 
 magic word, much as the opposite hosts 
 on Ebal and Gerazim alternately re- 
 sponded, "Amen." 
 
 Immediately after this antiphonal 
 outburst a voice was heard from the 
 north gate, ringing out in clear tones the 
 thrilling words, "A spring! A spring! 
 A spring has broken out!" "Where, 
 where?" was the eager inquiry which 
 arose at once from many lips. The 
 writer tried to press his way towards 
 the north gate, but the crowd was so 
 dense that no progress could be made. 
 The excitement of the moment was in- 
 describable. During a lull some one 
 sang out, "You fellows over by the 
 
Unsealing of the Spring 69 
 
 north gate, tell us, has a spring broken 
 out?" "Yes," was the reply, an em- 
 phatic "Yes." Then was further 
 shouted the explanation, "Where the 
 trench was dug the flood has torn up 
 the earth and a spring has gushed out. ' ' 
 
 As soon as opportunity afforded we 
 pressed our way to the spot, and there, 
 just below the north gate, in the center 
 of the space between the stockade and 
 the dead-line, at the point where the 
 earth had been most deeply excavated, 
 the sloping surfaces had gathered the 
 waters of the flood. The bottom of the 
 trench was torn up some twenty inches, 
 uncovering the vent of a spring of pur- 
 est crystal water, which shot up into the 
 air in a column and, falling in a fanlike 
 spray, went babbling down the grade 
 into the noxious brook. Looking across 
 the dead-line, we beheld with wondering 
 eyes and grateful hearts the fountain 
 spring. 
 
 But our relief was not yet realized; 
 the question which now concerned us 
 was how to bring its cooling waters 
 within reach of our lips. In the after- 
 
70 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 noon and evening of that eventful Fri- 
 day we prayed that God would so turn 
 the heart of Capt, Wirtz that he would 
 allow the precious water to be conveyed 
 within our lines. We waited in sus- 
 pense for the answer, and on Saturday 
 morning, to our delight, we saw the 
 quartermaster again enter the gate with 
 a gang of slaves, bringing fence boards, 
 hammers, nails, axes and stakes. A 
 double row of the latter was driven, so 
 that the direction crossed the dead-line 
 at a slight angle down the hill. A strip 
 was nailed across each pair of stakes, 
 and in the aperture rested a trough 
 made of two fence boards nailed to- 
 gether. At the lower end of this chute 
 in an excavation was set a sugar hogs- 
 head, around which clay was tamped so 
 as to aid in making it watertight. When 
 all was ready the upper end of the chute 
 was thrust under the falling column of 
 water, which swiftly ran down and filled 
 to overflowing the large barrel. From 
 this the men by crowds dipped freely of 
 the refreshing, life-giving water. 
 
 Laughter, songs and thanksgiving 
 
Unsealing of the Spring 71 
 
 abounded. Thus was wrought before 
 our eyes a gracious work of Providence 
 which to many of us was quite as won- 
 derful and quite as manifestly the work 
 of the All-Father as was the smitten 
 rock in the Palestine desert from which 
 the thirst of the fainting hosts of Israel 
 was slacked in their desert wanderings. 
 
 Stockade burst ed by a flood which opened the wonderful 
 "Providence Spring" 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WAS IT A MIRACLE? 
 
 A profound conviction has been cher- 
 ished by many that the unsealing of 
 Providence Spring was as marked an 
 interposition of the hand of the Al- 
 mighty as that recorded in the Book of 
 Numbers where it is said, "And Moses 
 lifted up his hand, and smote the rock 
 with his rod twice; and water came 
 forth abundantly and the congregation 
 drank.' ' Num. 20:11. 
 
 Are they wrong in this conviction? 
 The unwontedness of the incident ad- 
 mits of no dispute. In such a sober 
 work as Rhodes History of the United 
 States, we have the statement, "After 
 a severe storm a spring broke out with- 
 in the enclosure (Andersonville stock- 
 ade) and this became one of the main 
 reliances for drinking water.' ' Vol. V., 
 p. 492. 
 
 72 
 
Was It a Miracle ? 73 
 
 An eye witness records: " About the 
 first of August showers fell that beat 
 anything I ever saw. There was one 
 good result, for where the stockade was 
 washed away on the north side, it 
 opened a spring of pure water, enough 
 to supply nearly the whole of the 
 prison." (The narrative of Amos E. 
 Stearns, Co. A, 25th Regiment, Mass. 
 Published by Franklin Pierce, 1887.) 
 
 While comparatively few of the pris- 
 oners knew of the days of prayer that 
 preceded the storm, every one recog- 
 nized that something out of the ordinary 
 course of events had happened; and 
 that a new spirit pervaded the camp. 
 Before this, no one would give a dying 
 man a drink, for water was scarce, and 
 the scurvy in the recipient's mouth 
 might contaminate the cup for its 
 owner. And indeed, not many had the 
 strength to wait upon others. But now 
 the dull, sombre, despairing mood was 
 changed. The little stream of pure 
 water, contrasted with the former slough 
 that supplied us, murmured sweetly 
 down through the night, and during the 
 
74 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 day it over-brimmed thousands of cups 
 that eager hands reached forth. 
 
 In after days many of these men were 
 gathered at Camp Chase, Ohio, and 
 there detained until improved health 
 rendered them presentable for return 
 home. 
 
 We recall that when in the chapel of 
 that place a Capt. Allen conducted even- 
 ing religious services, hundreds of testi- 
 monies were given to the effect that the 
 breaking out of the spring at Anderson- 
 ville was a distinct answer to prayer 
 and a convincing fact of the reality of 
 help coming from above. Many of the 
 speakers declared that their Christian 
 faith began from that occurrence. 
 
 Questions such as the following natu- 
 rally arise : Was Providence Spring a 
 miracle ? Would the saving relief have 
 been withheld if prayer had not been 
 offered? 
 
 The situation is not more difficult of 
 analysis than is that described in the 
 story of Queen Esther where is exhib- 
 ited the interplay of natural and super- 
 natural elements in human activitv and 
 
Was It a Miracle ? 75 
 
 Divine over-ruling. The northern sec- 
 tion of the Andersonville inclosure was 
 mainly a bank of clay, as evidenced by 
 the many wells which were partially 
 sunk, but filled, by order of Capt. Wirtz, 
 because tunnels therefrom were dug for 
 escape. The vein of water which issued 
 in Providence Spring doubtless flowed 
 from time immemorial, and being un- 
 able to work upward through a too great 
 overpress of clay, had found a lower 
 seam through which it seeped into the 
 depths of the swamp below. This im- 
 plied fact was learned as follows: As 
 the prison administration was unable to 
 cook meal and bacon for the increasing 
 thousands of men, these articles were 
 issued raw for two weeks alternately to 
 the north and south sides of the enclo- 
 sure. 
 
 A distressingly small lot of wood must 
 suffice a detachment of two hundred and 
 seventy men for three days. Often the 
 individual portion would not make a fire 
 that would scald, much less cook, the 
 scant portion of cornmeal, which was 
 sometimes coarse and unbolted. It was 
 
76 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 said that more than ten thousand cases 
 of bloody dysentery prevailed at one 
 time ; aggravated by irritation to stom- 
 ach and intestines from the practically 
 uncooked food. The awful unsanitary 
 conditions which prevailed can be de- 
 scribed, but respect for the sensibilities 
 of the reader forbids. Suffice it to say 
 that the need for fuel was urgent, that 
 a number of the stronger captives would 
 lay aside their tattered remnants of 
 clothing, wade into the slimy muck of 
 the swamp, and, sinking to their arm- 
 pits, would pull up fragments of wood 
 that had long been submerged. This 
 was mostly pitch pine and when broken 
 up would quickly burn. The work of 
 exhuming fuel under such repulsive con- 
 ditions was chiefly done at night. 
 
 It was noticed that in the morning the 
 partially remaining foot-prints and de- 
 pression, from which the stick had been 
 drawn, were filled with clear water. 
 This fact was a mystery until after the 
 spring was opened ; then the conclusion 
 was reached that the spring water fol- 
 lowed a deep seam in the clay and oozed 
 
Was It a Miracle f 77 
 
 into the swamp some distance below the 
 surface and rose up through the open- 
 ings made by the wood-diggers. 
 
 Therefore Providence Spring was not 
 especially created to order. Like Topsy, 
 it had " alius' ' been. The providential 
 aspects of the case may be thus stated ; 
 the spring existed, but was unknown. 
 It was located under the space between 
 the dead-line and the stockade, through 
 which digging for a well was not per- 
 mitted ; it therefore remained undiscov- 
 ered. The out-of -plumb position of the 
 stockade timbers had existed for a long 
 time, but was not noticed by the officials 
 until the time when prayer began to be 
 offered for water. As the petitions of 
 Esther and Mordecai, unknown to the 
 King, in a manner unseen affected his 
 action, so by analogy, the prayer of Ser- 
 geant Shepard and his colleagues influ- 
 enced the state of mind of the quarter- 
 master and of Commandant Wirtz and 
 they were moved to the repairing of the 
 stockade which had long been neglected. 
 
 This decision led to the forming of a 
 broad trench by digging away the 
 
78 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 ground to afford the needed watershed 
 from the base of the stockade. 
 
 Thus a channel was formed which 
 gathered the storm-water with force 
 sufficient to tear away the ground over 
 the spring and release the life-giving 
 fountain. The slaves removed quite a 
 depth of the earth directly over the un- 
 known reservoir; thus the deepest part 
 of the trench was brought so near the 
 spring that the rush of the storm-flow 
 could do the rest. 
 
 The spring water was uncovered and 
 its pressure was sufficient to throw it 
 into the air, However, as it was located 
 on the forbidden margin, any prisoner 
 reaching under or over the dead-line for 
 a draught of the water would be in- 
 stantly shot by the sentinel posted over- 
 head on the wall. 
 
 Hence, after the spring was opened 
 an object of much desire, and suitable as 
 a subject of prayer, was that the hard- 
 ness of Capt. Wirtz would be relaxed 
 to the extent of allowing the prisoners 
 to have access to the water. This result 
 
Was It a Miracle ? 79 
 
 was accomplished and the relief was 
 complete. 
 
 A recent writer commenting on the 
 development of Providence Spring re- 
 fers to the marble fountain erected by 
 the Ex-Prisoners of War Association 
 inside the granite pavilion built over the 
 spring by the Woman's Relief Corps, 
 remarks, "The waters flow strong and 
 sweet with a never-ceasing stream into 
 the marble basin. It is said to be the 
 best water in all Georgia; that which 
 gushes forth from the side of the little 
 hill in Andersonville. ' ' Confirmatory to 
 this statement is the following incident : 
 
 In 1896, when the writer lectured in 
 Warsaw, N. Y., on "Reminiscences of 
 Battle-fields and Prisons," a prominent 
 war veteran of the town, who had been 
 a member of the staff of General Grant, 
 showed him a bottle of water from Prov- 
 idence Spring which nine years before 
 had been hermetically sealed by the Rev. 
 G. Stanley Lathrop of Atlanta. So pure 
 was the content that no sediment existed. 
 
 The further comment is : " The scien- 
 tific fact of Providence Spring is that 
 
80 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 in the August electrical storm the rocks 
 (clay) which held back this spring were 
 cracked or broken open by a lightning 
 bolt and the waters gushed forth. No 
 one ever believed that it was a sort of 
 Moses intervention for the prisoners, 
 but it was undoubtedly looked upon in 
 that light by the poor, thirsty, half- 
 starved prisoners." 
 
 To which we reply that if we believe 
 in prayer as an instrumentality by 
 which human and divine forces co- 
 operate to a beneficent end, and the re- 
 sult takes place, why should we question 
 the efficacy of intercession ? 
 
 The fact that a number of believing 
 men in the prison were engaged for some 
 days in protracted prayer for relief 
 from water-famine was not ostentati- 
 ously announced at the time, and was 
 little noticed by the crowd. Thus has it 
 ever been with the origin of great spir- 
 itual movements. 
 
 The relief came and a new spirit of 
 hope and gladness, such as prevailing 
 prayer engenders, swept through the 
 multitude. 
 
Was It a Miracle ? 81 
 
 The scienctific fact of a mightly rain 
 storm being the visible agency of com- 
 pleting the opening of Providence 
 Spring fitly coordinates with the moral 
 force of prayer, as in numberless in- 
 stances such convergence occurs in his- 
 tory. Nevertheless, this explantion will 
 probably be accepted or challenged ac- 
 cording to the personal experience of 
 the reader in matters of Christian faith. 
 
 In the case of the smitten rock of the 
 Palestine desert water doubtless existed 
 in an abundant, although unknown sup- 
 ply. The Almighty, by the agency of 
 Moses, brought it forth for the satisfy- 
 ing of a great multitude. 
 
 The prophet was commanded to speak 
 to the rock and it would give forth 
 water. The response could be from none 
 other than the Creator of all mountains 
 and flowing streams. And although 
 Moses went beyond the Divine com- 
 mand, and struck with a rod instead of 
 speaking with his voice, yet the Divine 
 goodness was not withheld, "and the 
 water came abundantly." So at Ander- 
 sonville the sufficient, though unknown, 
 
82 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 supply was close at hand. Human 
 voices pleading for relief were answered 
 by Him who spoke by the wind, the 
 lightning and the flood. 
 
 It is said that the spiritual desires of 
 our hearts are the reflection of what God 
 is waiting to do for us through our own 
 co-operation. Surely then, the prayers 
 of the Andersonville prisoners for water 
 were incited by Him who saw their dire 
 necessity, and who waited only for 
 human hands to aid in the release of the 
 fountain of water which his Omnipo- 
 tence had created. 
 
 During the subsequent years the 
 writer has given the foregoing account 
 in lectures and conversations to his 
 comrades of the Grand Army of the Re- 
 public and to many others. Gentlemen 
 of scientific and Christian attainments 
 have said that this explanation of the 
 phenomenon of Providence Spring is 
 the most satisfactory of any that they 
 have heard. 
 
 The event here chronicled is com- 
 memorated by the erection on the spot 
 of a granite pavilion which is appro- 
 
Was It a Miracle t 83 
 
 priately named ." Providence Spring.'' 
 The inscriptions are as follows : 
 
 This Fountain Erected by 
 
 The National Association of Union 
 
 Ex-Prisoners of War 
 
 In Memory of the 52,345 Comrades 
 
 who were confined here as prisoners of 
 
 war, and of 
 
 the 13,900 comrades buried in the 
 
 adjoining National Cemetery. 
 
 Dedicated Memorial Day, 
 
 May Thirteenth, Nineteen Hundred 
 
 and One. 
 
 James Atwell, National Commander. 
 
 S. M. Long, Adjt. Gen'l. 
 J. D. Walker, Cham. Ex. Committee. 
 A reverse tablet bears the words : 
 This Pavilion Was Erected by the 
 
 Woman 's Relief Corps 
 
 Auxiliary to the Grand Army of the 
 
 Republic 
 
 In grateful memory of the men who 
 
 suffered and died in the 
 
 Confederate Prison at Andersonville, 
 
 Georgia, 
 From February, 1864, to April, 1865. 
 
84 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 "The prisoner's cry of thirst rang up 
 to heaven ; 
 
 God heard, and with his thunder cleft 
 the earth 
 
 And poured his sweetest waters gush- 
 ing here." 
 "Erected 1901." 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 DELIVERANCE. 
 
 *At a point on the Cape Fear river, 
 about ten miles from Wilmington, 
 N. C, a trainload of old Anderson- 
 ville prisoners who had been confined 
 also at Florence, S. C, and Salisbury, 
 N. C, were delivered to General Terry. 
 They had just been paroled at Golds- 
 boro, and were received by him about 
 the middle of March, 1865. His head- 
 quarters was at a point on the Cape 
 Fear river and recently taken from the 
 enemy. It was now held by the Third 
 New Hampshire, Sixteenth New York 
 heavy artillery, and by a division of 
 colored troops. 
 
 *On February 20th, 1912, the writer received a call 
 from an old friend, Rev. M. L. Holt, of Neligh, Nebraska. 
 He gives this confirmatory statement to Mr. Maile: "As 
 Sergeant Major of the Third New Hampshire Veteran 
 Volunteer Infantry I can certify to the military sur- 
 roundings at the place of your release. Two days before 
 your arrival from Goldsboro, General Terry ordered our 
 Third New Hampshire to make a forced march to a 
 point ten miles distant from Wilmington on the North- 
 east branch of the Cape Fear river and take from the 
 enemy a pontoon bridge at that point. 
 
 85 
 
86 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 The freight cars halted in a pine for- 
 est about a mile from this position, 
 which commanded a pontoon bridge. 
 A squad of cavalry received the ex-pris- 
 oners, unfurling the Stars and Stripes 
 in greeting. Many of the boys in blue 
 wept, when they saw our plight. The 
 released men tried to hurrah, but were 
 too weak to raise much of a shout. 
 Three ambulances were loaded with as 
 many of the sick as could be taken on 
 the first trip. 
 
 At the farther end of the pontoon 
 bridge the road led through a deep cut 
 in the bank up to the open space of the 
 camp where guns pointed over the river 
 towards the forest through which the 
 freight train had come from Goldsboro 
 with the paroled men. Spanning this 
 cut was an arch constructed of ever- 
 green boughs and faced with the white 
 
 "We skirmished with the foe nearly the entire dis- 
 tance and came tip to them just as they had cut the 
 near end of the bridge from the bank. With our ma- 
 chine guns we drove them off and moored the bridge 
 back to its place. On the second day after we received 
 the old Andersonville prisoners and had the satisfaction 
 of knowing we had prepared their way by having the 
 bridge in readiness for them to cross the river into our 
 lines. I shall never forget the impression made upon us 
 by the condition of these survivors of Confederate pris- 
 ons. These events occurred in March, 1861." 
 
Deliverance 87 
 
 cloth square of shelter tent, upon which 
 was spelled in letters made of evergreen 
 sprigs, "THE SIXTEENTH NEW 
 YORK WELCOMES YOU HOME.'' 
 
 The march of a mile from the railroad 
 to the pontoon bridge greatly exhausted 
 the paroled prisoners. At first the ex- 
 citement of once more gazing upon the 
 flag they loved, and being received by 
 the advanced squadron, stimulated them 
 to walk with some show of vigor. 
 
 But soon their eyes shone with the 
 unwonted brightness of fatigue in con- 
 trast with their pinched and grimy 
 faces. Many sank by the wayside, to 
 be picked up by the ambulance when the 
 same could return for them. 
 
 The stronger ones worked up into the 
 head of the column which crossed the 
 pontoon bridge and the advance files of 
 men undertook to walk up through the 
 cut in the bank at the bridge end. But 
 their feet sank in the sand and they 
 were too weak to go further. 
 
 Meanwhile a company of colored sol- 
 diers were drawn up through the cut 
 in two ranks facing. Between these 
 
88 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 lines and under the arch our ambulance 
 passed; the horses tugging with might 
 and main up the steep grade and 
 through the deep sand. The white offi- 
 cers and the black soldiers stood at 
 " Present Arms." The eyes of the sol- 
 diers opened and their teeth gleamed 
 with an aspect of astonishment, as they 
 for the first time beheld seasoned gradu- 
 ates from a course of experiences in 
 war-prisons. The living wrecks in the 
 aubulances were still more pale and 
 ghastly than were the stronger ones fol- 
 lowing slowly on foot, and as the latter 
 emerged from the woods on to the float- 
 ing bridge, the onlooking crowd of our 
 men off duty began to be stirred with a 
 great excitement. 
 
 As the ambulances lined up before 
 headquarters, General Terry approach- 
 ed. With him were the brigade surgeon 
 and a representative of the United 
 States Christian Commission. The Gen- 
 eral looked upon us with tear-dimmed 
 eyes; and turning to the surgeon gave 
 his pocket flask, saying, " Doctor, for 
 God's sake, help these poor fellows." 
 
Deliverance 89 
 
 This ambulance stopped on the crest 
 of the hill, when the Christian Commis- 
 sion man stepped to its side and said 
 to the writer, "My boy, you will get out 
 here." Seeing I was too weak to rise 
 from the seat, he said, " Just lie across 
 my shoulder." This I did and he car- 
 ried me into a near-by country church 
 building which sheltered the sick until 
 they could be conveyed by boat to Wil- 
 mington. 
 
 Meanwhile the straggling column of 
 paroled prisoners had crossed the 
 bridge. An officer undertook to form 
 them into ranks so as to march in form 
 under the arch and between the lines 
 which stood at " Present arms." Their 
 feet sank in the soft sand of the cut, and 
 after taking a few steps they were ut- 
 terly exhausted. The officer in charge 
 thus addressed the two lines : ' ' Shoulder 
 arms!" " Order arms!" " Stack arms!" 
 "Break ranks and carry these men up 
 the hill!" With a mighty cheer the 
 athletic colored soldiers sprang forward 
 and each picked up an emaciated, wilted 
 prisoner, carried him up the hill, and 
 
90 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 tenderly placed him on the ground. In 
 due time, the sick were taken by boat 
 to the Wright House Hospital, Wil- 
 mington, and the stronger ones were 
 placed in a camp waiting transporta- 
 tion by steamer to the north. 
 
 In the winter of 1875-76, the partially 
 regained health of the writer collapsed, 
 and he was advised to consult his former 
 regimental surgeon, Dr. Wells B. Fox. 
 The Doctor said, ' ' You may live a good 
 while, and you may not. Prepare to 
 leave your family in as good shape as 
 possible. If you have unsettled accounts 
 fix them up." 
 
 Pursuant to this advice, and needing 
 the benefit of a climate warmer than a 
 Michigan winter, he went to Washing- 
 ton to close up some army matters. Here 
 he was received very kindly by Surgeon 
 General Barnes, and by him ordered to 
 have a thorough examination by experts 
 of the medical department. The diag- 
 nosis was more favorable than was 
 deemed possible, and its correctness has 
 been verified by the subsequent years. 
 
 On the journey from Cheboygan to 
 
Deliverance 91 
 
 Washington, a stop was made at Green- 
 ville. With his host, a call was made 
 on the Eev. James L. Patton, pastor of 
 the Congregational Church of that 
 place. As the evening passed, conversa- 
 tion turned to army happenings. After 
 reciting some experiences in the service 
 of the United States Christian Commis- 
 sion, with an aroused manner, Dr. Pat- 
 ton said, ' ' I must tell you of an occasion 
 that I shall never forget. I was in the 
 Christian Commission service outside 
 Wilmington, North Carolina, near the 
 close of the war, with General Terry, 
 when he received the first installment of 
 old Andersonville prisoners as they were 
 sent into our lines. Terry was all broken 
 up over their condition." " Could the 
 prisoners walk?" asked the writer. 
 ' ' Yes, ' ' he replied ; ' i some of them could, 
 but many had to be brought in on am- 
 bulances." He was asked, "Where did 
 you put those who were sick?" "We 
 laid them on the floor of a little church 
 that was close by," Dr. Patton replied. 
 Extending his hand the writer said, "Dr. 
 Patton, thank you." "Why, why," he 
 
92 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 replied hesitatingly," you need not thank 
 me for the story ; it is true and you are 
 welcome to it." "Yes," was the re- 
 sponse, "I have no doubt the story is 
 true. I do not thank you for it, but 
 for helping me out of the ambulance at 
 that time." Need it be said that these 
 two men found themselves comrades, in- 
 deed? 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AN INCIDENT BY THE WAY. 
 
 A steamboat on the northeast branch 
 of the Cape Pear river carried our pa- 
 roled men from the station held by Gen- 
 eral Terry to the city of Wilmington. 
 
 One of the principal mansions was 
 owned by a Dr. Wright who had fled 
 with his family on the approach of the 
 Union troops. His fine residence was 
 converted into a hospital for the arrivals 
 who were sick. 
 
 During the ride from Goldsboro on 
 top of a freight car, the writer was taken 
 ill and was barely able to walk the 
 steamer plank at the point of transfer. 
 After resting in the little country church 
 he was taken to the Wright House Hos- 
 pital and assigned a straw bed on the 
 floor of a room in the third story. Sol- 
 dier nurses proceeded to take off his in- 
 fested prison rags and to give him a 
 sponge rub. He fainted under the pro- 
 
 93 
 
94 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 cess and had a run of fever during which 
 he was delirious. 
 
 When the point of death was appar- 
 ently reached his vitality took a turn for 
 the better and he rapidly improved. 
 
 On the floor of his room were twelve 
 narrow straw beds having a succession 
 of occupants who, with a few exceptions, 
 were soon transferred to their final rest- 
 ing places. 
 
 Many of the ex-prisoners having 
 died from the effects of the too early 
 use of solid food, the physicians became 
 extremely cautious and limited the sick 
 to small quantities of the most simple 
 preparations. 
 
 During the writer's convalescence, his 
 ravenous hunger was unsatisfied by the 
 slender allowance. It happened that his 
 bed ended up to a window, and his fav- 
 orite occupation was to sit on his pillow 
 and watch the proceedings in the yard 
 below. Here was a servant's cottage 
 occupied by two colored women who 
 evidently had excused themselves from 
 flight with their master. The older one 
 moved about with quiet dignity and 
 
An Incident by the Way 95 
 
 doubtless had been the "mamma" of 
 the family. With evident pleasure she 
 watched the new life and movement 
 around her, and held in restraint her 
 young and vivacious companion. 
 
 In the yard soldier cooks prepared in 
 large kettles great quantities of beef 
 soup, which was ladled into pails, car- 
 ried to the kitchen and served to the 
 patients throughout the building. 
 
 A young artilleryman from Olean, 
 New York, lay on a straw pallet along- 
 side that of the writer. The one was 
 called " Olean" and the other " Michi- 
 gan." From his post of observation at 
 the window the latter, one morning, 
 watched the handling of the soup below 
 with an interest that could not be con- 
 cealed. "Say, Michigan, what are you 
 looking at?" inquired Olean. "I am 
 looking at them pouring out the soup," 
 was the reply, "and say, Olean, I wish I 
 could have a good smell of it." 
 
 "Smell of the soup," said Olean con- 
 temptuously; "if I was a wishing I'd 
 wish I had some and not just a smell." 
 Upon this sagacious remark, a number 
 
96 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 of the occupants of the other beds passed 
 the wink or laugh with a feeble, hacking 
 sound; their pinched faces brightening 
 with a sense of mirth. 
 
 The practical wisdom of the sugges- 
 tion was not lost upon " Michigan," who 
 said, "If I was a little stronger I would 
 take my cup, go down the stairs and into 
 the yard and I would say, 'Boys, I'm 
 awfully hungry; please give me some 
 soup.' " Ah-ah-ah, laughed "Olean." 
 "Say, Michigan, I'll bet you five cents 
 you can't walk the length of your bed 
 and touch the door knob." Upon this 
 challenge, the other patients from their 
 pillows exchanged glances, several 
 braced up on the elbow and discussed the 
 possibility of one of their number leav- 
 ing his room without permission to for- 
 age for refreshments. The concensus of 
 opinion was that he could not succeed. 
 
 "Who are you talking to ?" vigorously 
 responded "Michigan." "You think I 
 can 't do it ; I '11 show you what I can do. ' ' 
 Grasping the projecting window mould- 
 ing he helped himself to his feet, care- 
 fully balancing his trembling steps along 
 
An Incident by the Way 97 
 
 the narrow space between the beds on 
 the floor, and triumphantly grasping the 
 knob of the door exclaimed, ' ' There now, 
 Olean ; I Ve done it ; I Ve done it. Where 
 is your five cents V " Oh, I haven 't any 
 five cents," replied Olean, "but say, 
 Michigan, you would look mighty fine 
 going down those stairs, wouldn't you?" 
 
 Thereupon the observing comrades 
 laughed in great glee ; in weakness, like 
 little children, a very trifling incident 
 amused them; they nodded their heads 
 at each other and exchanged approving 
 glances. 
 
 Our regulation costume was a gray 
 army shirt, drawers of like material, and 
 a pair of socks. Thus appareled ' ' Mich- 
 igan" opened the door into the hall, 
 peered over the railing down the two 
 flights of stairs and, seeing the coast 
 clear, worked along to the newel post 
 and carefully lowered himself one or two 
 steps. 
 
 Thinking discretion might be the bet- 
 ter part of valor, he tested his strength 
 for the return by trying to retrace the 
 steps down which he had come. He was 
 
98 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 quite unable to lift himself on the ris- 
 ing, so must needs continue down the 
 two flights, resting his weight on the rail. 
 Dizzy and breathless he stood by the 
 stair post on the main floor. At this 
 juncture the hospital steward suddenly 
 entered and was amazed to find a very 
 weak patient in a state of migration. 
 ' i What are you doing here ? ' ' he hurried- 
 ly and angrily asked. "What room do 
 ^you belong to and who said you might 
 leave it?" "Oh, I'm just taking a lit- 
 tle exercise," was the reply. The stew- 
 ard rang for an attendant, and with an 
 oath said, "No more of this ; I will order 
 a man to help you to your room and 
 there you stay. ' ' 
 
 But no helper appeared, so our hero 
 summoned all his determination and 
 walked through the hall to the back 
 porch. Here a stack of plain coffins 
 greeted his view; and he fancied that 
 one of them belonged to him. Going 
 down the veranda steps he held to the 
 rail and coming into the full rays of 
 the sun turned faint and for a few min- 
 utes was helpless. Again, he summoned 
 
An Incident by the Way 99 
 
 all the powers of his will and started 
 down the gravel walk towards the ser- 
 vant's cottage. 
 
 Reaching the porch of the same, he 
 sank exhausted on the steps with head 
 resting against the corner post. Just 
 then the old "mamma" came out of her 
 room and caught sight of the wasted 
 form and pale face of the would-be soup 
 hunter. Gazing pityingly upon his 
 emaciation, and speaking to her as- 
 sistant, she exclaimed, " Dinah, Dinah, 
 come yeah, come yeah; look at dat ar' 
 po ' white chile ; he bleached so white as 
 linen !" 
 
 Then addressing him, she said, "Wah 
 yo ' come from ? ' ' Wah yo ' come from % ' ' 
 "Oh, auntie," he gasped, "I came out 
 of the hospital to get some soup and I 
 can't get any further. Auntie, give me 
 something to eat ; I 'm awfully hungry ! ' ' 
 "Dinah, Dinah," she said. "Go to the 
 cupboard and git a big slice ob de co'n 
 pone; jes slip it undah you aprun and 
 bring it yeah to me." Passing the gen- 
 erous slice under her own apron, the old 
 mammy stood by the veranda post, look- 
 
100 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 ing the meanwhile intently at a distant 
 object as if oblivious to all near con- 
 cerns. 
 
 Thus she partially screened the in- 
 valid from observation, and reaching the 
 portion down to his hand, tenderly said, 
 "Dar now, honey, yo eat dat bread.' ' 
 No second invitation to indulge his fam- 
 ished appetite was needed. The slice 
 of "co'n pone" speedily disappeared. 
 Strange to say, no inconvenience re- 
 sulted. The food aroused the dormant 
 vitality and the young fellow eagerly 
 exclaimed, "Auntie, Auntie, that was so 
 good. Give me some more." "No, 
 honey," she said decisively, "de doctah 
 see me do dis yah, I done go, suah." 
 Then the invalid began to cry hysteri- 
 cally. The sympathy of the kind old 
 heart was still further aroused and, 
 spreading her great hand on his head, 
 she said softly, "Po chile, po chile, he 
 want ta see he muddah." 
 
 "Mother, Mother!" How that word 
 stirred his heart and aroused his mem- 
 ory so weakened by suffering. Physical 
 vigor from the dark hand upon his 
 
An Incident by the Way 101 
 
 head was surcharged with vitality that 
 probably stimulated the depleted per- 
 sonality. 
 
 Again the young man asked, " Aunty, 
 aunty, give me some more," and again 
 came the reply, "No, honey, de doctah 
 see me do dis, he send me off for suah. ' ' 
 Meanwhile "Olean" was pressing his 
 face against the third-story window to 
 see how "Michigan" was prospering in 
 his quest for soup. 
 
 A soldier nurse approached the cot- 
 tage and "aunty," who seemed to be on 
 good terms with all, interceded for her 
 guest. "Dis ya chile done cum down fo 
 a wok; he done tiad out, yo' help him 
 back, won't yo', massa?" And he did. 
 
'Dinah, Dinah, look at dat ar po' white chile; he bleached so white as 
 
 linen." 
 
 102 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 A SEQUEL. 
 
 At the age of thirteen, the writer at- 
 tended a series of religious meetings 
 and became profoundly convicted of his 
 obligation to accept Jesus Christ as his 
 personal Savior. Lack of moral cour- 
 age held him back from an open confes- 
 sion. He compromised by secretly 
 pledging to become a Christian after he 
 had entered upon his chosen profession 
 of law. Thereupon his convictions 
 ceased and the matter was forgotten. 
 
 Now, in his illness in Andersonville 
 prison, answer to prayer, as evidenced 
 in the instance of Providence Spring, 
 turned his attention to his own moral 
 necessities. Well might this introspec- 
 tion occur ; for, in this month of August, 
 1864, his prospects of surviving the sur- 
 rounding conditions were swiftly dimin- 
 ishing. Blood poisoning, in the form of 
 scurvy, had settled in his face. He tot- 
 
 103 
 
104 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 tered from weakness. His long days and 
 weary nights were spent on his blanket, 
 spread on the ground, just within the 
 little shelter tent that was wedged in 
 among others. When eyes were closed 
 to awful sights, the ears must listen to 
 dreadful sounds. As vitality was ebbing 
 away, and the things of time and sense 
 were withdrawing, the realities of etern- 
 ity seemed to come to the front. Truly 
 it was time to " prepare to meet thy 
 God." This must be done at once. The 
 reading of the little pocket testament 
 began anew, and the thought was awak- 
 ened to pray for self; when suddenly 
 there came to mind the forgotten cove- 
 nant of seven years ago, "I will be a 
 Christian after I become a lawyer." 
 
 The obvious conclusion was, " Taken 
 on your own terms, as you cannot be a 
 lawyer, you cannot be a Christian." 
 Total physical and mental weakness 
 could not cope with this mental sugges- 
 tion. The reflections that followed led 
 to feelings of utter despair. Thus he 
 soliloquized, "In the day of my strength 
 I said 'No' to God; now, in the hour of 
 
A Sequel 105 
 
 my weakness, he will not hear me. He 
 knows that from fear and not from sin- 
 cerity I now seek to pray. Hypocritical 
 prayer will but add insult to injury. I 
 must not pray." These confused rea- 
 sonings were largely due to an anemic 
 brain and mental temptation. The weak- 
 ened mind accepted a lie in place of the 
 invigorating truth that "now is the day 
 of salvation." Eternity seemed to open 
 its portals to a realm of darkness into 
 which the soul was being forced by the 
 stress of its own past decision, while 
 high over these gates enthroned in light 
 appeared the radiant form of the Son of 
 God. While this Personage seemed un- 
 speakably lovely and "chief among ten 
 thousand," the soliloquizer said, "He 
 has been denied, he is lost to me. ' ' These 
 cogitations filled the waking and sleep- 
 ing hours of several nights. With a 
 sense of woe unutterable the decision of 
 doom was accepted. The sensations of 
 a lost soul seemed to be real. Words are 
 entirely inadequate to express the sense 
 of eternal, irremediable loss by which 
 the heart was oppressed. This exhaus- 
 
106 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 tive strain could not long continue. The 
 evening of a day of unusually oppres- 
 sive heat presaged the end. Vividly the 
 thought stood before the mind, "This is 
 my last night on earth." To the com- 
 rade who was blanket-mate the home ad- 
 dress was given and a whispered good- 
 bye. This was the fully accepted close 
 of life. 
 
 Sinking into an unrestful slumber, 
 the small hours of the morning arrived, 
 and a forgotten incident of the long ago 
 was revived in a dream. The scene in 
 vision occurred on a beautiful Sunday 
 morning of spring, eleven years before. 
 The location was a village on the old 
 Ridge road in Niagara county, New 
 York. The region was, and is, noted for 
 its orchards of deciduous fruits. On 
 this date the blossoms were out in full. 
 Banks of pink and white embosomed the 
 homesteads that lined the historic high- 
 way; sweet odors filled the air, and 
 bevies of bees with droning song were 
 industriously gathering the abundant 
 nectar. Nothing could surpass the 
 beauty of that quiet Lord's Day morn- 
 
A Sequel 107 
 
 ing as the family, consisting of father, 
 mother, older sister and younger broth- 
 er, with the lad, wended its way to the 
 brick church of the village. They habit- 
 ually passed, on the outskirts of the 
 
 same, the stone house of Col. N , 
 
 whose daughter's husband was absent in 
 the West. 
 
 The good lady taught in the Sunday 
 school a class of boys who were from 
 seven to ten years of age, and although 
 they were possessed of irrepressible 
 juvenile energy, and occasionally, to her 
 distress, seemed to be irreverent; yet 
 they regarded her with sincere respect 
 and gave willing obedience. 
 
 On the Saturday night, preceding this 
 Sunday morning, a great burden of so- 
 licitude for the safety of her husband 
 was suddenly pressed in upon her mind. 
 To her imagination he seemed to be in 
 extreme peril; perhaps he was unat- 
 tended ; he might be alone and facing a 
 speedy and fatal termination. Possess- 
 ing a strong faith in God, and believing 
 his readiness to hear and answer prayer, 
 at midnight she aroused from her bed 
 
108 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 and engaged in an irrepressible travail 
 of soul for the far-away loved one. For 
 several hours the burden of intercession 
 continued. With the coming of the Sun- 
 day morning dawn, the light which made 
 all nature bright and beautiful was sud- 
 denly duplicated in her heart. All at 
 once the burden lifted. Instantaneously 
 her being was filled with the sweet as- 
 surance that all was well with her hus- 
 band ; that whatever was his danger he 
 was being saved therefrom. A tender 
 gratitude possessed her heart. A sense 
 of union with the mighty Jehovah suf- 
 fused her being with a consciousness of 
 strength and resource. Like Deborah of 
 old a song of triumph arose in her soul. 
 As the time of going to church ap- 
 proached, the above mentioned family 
 came along, and, as was their custom, 
 the teacher and her son, who was about 
 the age of the writer, joined them on the 
 way to the sanctuary. As the others 
 were conversing by the way, the two 
 boys ran on ahead and the one, having 
 observed on the face of his teacher the 
 marks of suffering, said to his chum, 
 
A Sequel 109 
 
 " Newton, what is the matter with your 
 mamma V 9 
 
 "O, Johnny/ 9 was the reply; "My 
 mamma has been feeling awful bad 
 about my papa. I guess she thinks he 
 is going to die, for in the night I heard 
 her talking and talking to God about 
 saving him and making him well. Say, 
 Johnny, if God don't do what mamma 
 asks I won't have any papa, will I?" 
 
 With their hands joined in a common 
 sympathy, and with mutual tears, the 
 two lads sorrowed for a brief moment. 
 But what parental anxiety could hold 
 their abounding life from immediate 
 sympathy with nature smiling all 
 around? By the time the church was 
 reached and cheery salutations had been 
 exchanged with arriving classmates, all 
 impressions of grief were forgotten. 
 
 The teacher, in a mood of chastened 
 gladness and confidence, listened to the 
 sermon which the venerable pastor ex- 
 tended to an unusual length. This de- 
 lay absorbed the brief period of time 
 usually given to an intermission, dur- 
 ing which the intermediates might 
 
110 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 straighten out the kinks which seemed 
 to form in their lithe limbs while 
 perched on cushioned seats so high that 
 their feet dangled short of the carpet. 
 
 The good superintendent, whose gra- 
 cious face and form are remembered as 
 but of yesterday, called the school to 
 order immediately after the benediction 
 was pronounced. "We are late," he 
 said, "and cannot have intermission to- 
 day; classes take their places at once." 
 
 These irrepressible youngsters com- 
 bined the movement of filing into the 
 pew with motions not included in the 
 regular order. One punched another. 
 The lad who had recently shared the 
 mental distress of his mother now in- 
 serted a bent pin under the descending 
 form of his companion; resulting in a 
 response that did not improve the disci- 
 pline of the occasion. The boisterous 
 impulse seized the entire class to the 
 annoyance and discomfiture of the 
 teacher, who was seated at their front in 
 the adjoining pew. Several reproving 
 glances directed towards the young in- 
 
A Sequel 111 
 
 surgents quieted them during the open- 
 ing exercises. 
 
 After the vigil of prayer during much 
 of the preceding night and the answer 
 of peace that had been given, we can 
 readily understand the state of mind 
 which now possessed the teacher. The 
 transient, sportive disorder of the little 
 boys was but a harmless ripple on the 
 surface of her thought. Her soul was 
 in a continued attitude of prayer. Her 
 victory in intercession made easy a re- 
 newal of request at the throne of grace. 
 Not only her mother-heart but her 
 Christian love yearned over the lads 
 that were committed to her care. Not 
 the surface question of behavior, but the 
 issue of their conversion to Jesus Christ 
 took possession of her mind. She 
 thought to herself, "Why not now? 
 Why not now?" Attracting the atten- 
 tion of the lads by tapping on the 
 pew-top with her ivory-mounted fan, 
 with countenance expressing unwonted 
 strength, she said, "My boys, I want you 
 to now be perfectly quiet, and to bow 
 
112 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 your heads and close your eyes while I 
 pray for you." 
 
 The spirit of quiet firmness which ac- 
 companied these words, the outreaching 
 of her soul as in the interceding exercise 
 of the previous night, profoundly im- 
 pressed the lads. Instantly and will- 
 ingly, they took the attitude of rever- 
 ence ; motionless they listened to the ten- 
 der voice that pleaded in words like 
 these: "O Lord, my heavenly Father, 
 I ask Thee to help my little boys to give 
 their hearts to Thee. Wilt Thou not, 
 by the sacrifice of thy dear Son, cleanse 
 their hearts from sin. Wilt Thou give 
 to them a new heart, a clean heart ? Be- 
 stow upon them freely of Thy Holy 
 Spirit, and help them to live always for 
 Thee. Amen." 
 
 Although eleven years had passed 
 away, and the immature experiences of 
 boyhood had been replaced by the open- 
 ing realities of manhood, the events 
 above described formed the subject-mat- 
 ter of the dream on that memorable 
 night in Andersonville. The panorama 
 of what was largely forgotten unfolded 
 
A Sequel 113 
 
 before the mind in what was supposed 
 to be the sleep of approaching death. 
 These renewed impressions were so 
 vivid that at the instant of awaking 
 the reality seemed to be with the old- 
 time home ; the dream was the being in 
 the prison pen. 
 
 But a few moments of consciousness 
 were required for the recognition of the 
 actual circumstances of the present time 
 and place. 
 
 But, within, all was changed. In the 
 place of despair an inspiring hope was 
 in the ascendant. The forms and voices 
 of loved ones had been seen and heard. 
 The intercession of the teacher for her 
 little boys had restored the right to pray. 
 While yet in much physical weakness 
 the day was mostly passed in silent 
 prayer. 
 
 During the second night a lessened 
 impression of the dream was repeated. 
 By the second morning all the processes 
 of thought were restored to the normal 
 condition. The mind and will were able 
 to adopt the irreversible determination 
 to henceforth implicitly trust in the liv- 
 
114 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 ing God and to live the life of faith and 
 prayer. And up to the present hour that 
 determination has sought to be unfalter- 
 ingly kept. 
 
"The mystic chord of memory, stretch- 
 ing from every battlefield and patriot 
 grave to every living heart and hearth- 
 stone all over this broad land, will yet 
 swell the chorus of the Union, when 
 again touched, as surely they will be, by 
 better angels of our nature." — Abra- 
 ham Lincoln, Inaugural Address, March 
 4, 1861. 
 
 115 
 
APPENDIX A. 
 
 CONTRIBUTORY TESTIMONY. 
 
 Many narratives of experiences in the 
 military prisons maintained by the gov- 
 ernment of the Confederate States of 
 America during the Civil War have been 
 written by Union officers and soldiers 
 confined therein. With minor differ- 
 ences of statement arising from per- 
 sonal diversities these testimonies as a 
 whole establish the fact of unprece- 
 dented suffering and mortality. 
 
 Since the close of the Civil War our 
 government has unstintedly employed 
 ability and money in compiling and 
 publishing an exhaustive exhibit of the 
 Union and Confederate records. These 
 statistics and memoranda afford to the 
 later historian abundant and reliable 
 data, and upon his calm verdict we may 
 rely for the substantial truth. 
 
 The holding of prisoners during our civil war 
 was a matter of large concern. The number of 
 
 116 
 
Contributory Testimony 117 
 
 Union soldiers captured was 211,411; paroled 
 on the field, 16, 669 ; died in captivity, 30,218. 
 These last figures are defective. Of twelve Con- 
 federate prisons the " death registers" of five 
 are only partial and thousands of the emaciated 
 men passed away soon after release. 
 
 The number of Confederate soldiers captured 
 was 462,635 ; paroled on the field 257,769 ; died 
 in captivity 25,976. The percentage of deaths 
 among the imprisoned Confederates, it will be 
 seen, was far less than among the Union pris- 
 oners. 
 
 The number of enlistments in the Union army 
 was 2,898, 304; in the Confederate army from 
 1,239,000 to 1,400,000. The estimated cost of 
 war to the North was $5,000,000,000, and to the 
 South $3,000,000,000. 
 
 (The above figures are taken from a 
 " History of the United States," by 
 James Ford Rhodes, LL.D., Litt.D., 
 who quotes from General F. C. Ains- 
 worth, Chief of the Record and Pension 
 Office.) 
 
"We raise our father's banner that it may 
 bring back better blessings than those of old; 
 . . . that it may say to the sword, 'Return to 
 thy sheath,' and to the plow and sickle, 'Go 
 forth.' That it may heal all jealousies, unite 
 all policies, inspire a new national life, com- 
 pact our strength, ennoble our national ambi- 
 tions, and make this people great and strong, 
 not for aggression and quarrelsomeness, but 
 for the peace of the world, giving to us the 
 glorious prerogative of leading all nations to 
 juster laws, to more humane policies, to sin- 
 cerer friendship, to rational, instituted civil lib- 
 erty, and to universal Christian Brotherhood." 
 — Address of H. W. Beecher at Fort Sumpter 
 flag raisiing, April 15, 1865. 
 
 118 
 
APPENDIX B. 
 
 RESPONSIBILITY FOR PRISON TREATMENT. 
 
 It is difficult, even after the lapse of 
 years not a few, to consider dispassion- 
 ately the treatment accorded by the Con- 
 federacy to her prisoners. War had 
 fanned to a flame the fire of sectional 
 animosity, and a spirit of retaliation was 
 awakened. It is true the South was com- 
 paratively a poor country, and the hand 
 of war had stripped her bare. The 
 mighty armies of both sides carried on 
 their vast operations on southern soil; 
 the one as an army of defense, the other 
 as an army of invasion. 
 
 In the movements of strategy and bat- 
 tle, many combatants were taken pris- 
 oners; these were sent to the rear for 
 safe keeping and maintenance. With 
 practically unlimited resources this ad- 
 ditional burden was scarcely felt at the 
 North. 
 
 At the South, the case was different. 
 
 19 
 
120 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 The extended territory occupied by the 
 armies was practically unproductive for 
 the people. It was, therefore, inevitable 
 that the prisoners of war share the gen- 
 eral limitation. As their numbers in- 
 creased, it was necessary that they be 
 conveyed to localities beyond the reach 
 of rescue. Their increasing hosts could 
 not wait upon the size of the stock- 
 ades built for their confinement, and the 
 limited forces that could be spared for 
 their safe keeping must in some way 
 hold them closely in hand. 
 
 Moreover, unfriendly prejudices were 
 increasing by the very fact of invasion, 
 and as the North was held responsible 
 for the war, the prisoners were the ob- 
 ject of bitter hatred. In numerous 
 minor particulars, such as ample sup- 
 ply of water, of shelter and of food and 
 fuel, the obligations of the southern mil- 
 itary authorities were criminally neg- 
 ligent ; yet many of the features of the 
 prison circumstances were probably un- 
 avoidable. 
 
 The situation in the South is summed 
 up in the following extract from "A 
 
Prison Treatment 121 
 
 History of the American People/ ' by 
 Woodrow Wilson, Ph.D., Lit.D., Vol. 
 IV, pp. 306, 307: 
 
 "One of the most distressing evidences of 
 the straits to which the South had been brought 
 was seen in the state of the prisons in which 
 she was forced to keep the thousands of pris- 
 oners who fell into the hands of her armies. 
 
 "More than two hundred thousand, first and 
 last, were taken, and only some sixteen thou- 
 sand of these were paroled upon the field. . . . 
 
 "Not until the war seemed turning toward 
 its end could an exchange of prisoners be ar- 
 ranged. The Federal authorities knew their 
 superiority in fighting population and did not 
 care to lose by returning fighting men to the 
 South. If her soldiers died in Southern pris- 
 ons, they were dying for their country there, 
 General Grant said, as truly as if they lost their 
 lives in battle. 
 
 "In the south men could not be spared from 
 the field to guard the prisons; there were not 
 guards enough ; there was not food enough ; 
 and many thousands were crowded together un- 
 der a handful of men. 
 
 "Proper sanitary precautions were, in the 
 circumstances, impossible. The armies them- 
 selves lacked food and went without every 
 comfort, and the prisoners could fare no better 
 —inevitably fared worse, because they were 
 penned within a narrow space and lacked the 
 
122 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 free air of the camp. A subtle demoralization 
 touched the government of the Confederacy it- 
 self as the war went its desperate course, and 
 those who kept the prisons felt that demoraliza- 
 tion with the rest." 
 
 One recollection has burned itself into 
 memory. At Andersonville there was a 
 standing offer of immediate release to 
 any prisoner of average strength who 
 would take the oath of allegiance to the 
 Confederacy and engage in non-com- 
 batant service. Officers who entered the 
 prison with these proposals were 
 shunned by our men. I recall a recent- 
 ly naturalized Federal prisoner who 
 thus enlisted. When he re-entered the 
 prison in Confederate uniform as a re- 
 cruiting officer, his reception was such 
 that he fled to the gate for his life; 
 shouting to the guard to protect him. 
 For flag and country our boys could un- 
 complainingly die a lingering death, but 
 they could not turn traitor. 
 
APPENDIX C— WOMAN'S BE- 
 LIEF CORPS MEMORIAL 
 
 Among the heroisms of the great Civil 
 War none surpassed the self-sacrificing 
 devotion manifested by the women of 
 the North and of the South. The lat- 
 ter are represented by an organization 
 known as "The Daughters of the Con- 
 federacy," within whose associations 
 are kept alive ardent memories of heroic 
 days. 
 
 The former have wrought enduring 
 deeds of patriotism and of mercy, chief- 
 ly in co-operation with the Grand Army 
 of the Republic. The work of the 
 Woman's Relief Corps in securing and 
 improving the Andersonville prison 
 grounds constitutes an imperishable 
 memorial to their patriotic devotion. 
 
 To the energy and executive ability of 
 Mrs. Lizabeth A. Turner, Chairman of 
 the Andersonville Prison Board, is due 
 in large measure the complete success 
 
 123 
 
124 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 attending the movement to gain posses- 
 sion of and to beautify the site and sur- 
 roundings of the historic Andersonville 
 prison. 
 
 The following letter written two years 
 before the decease of Mrs. Turner ex- 
 plains in her own vigorous expressions 
 how these great results were secured : 
 " Woman's Headquarters Relief Corps, 
 
 (Auxiliary to the Grand Army of the 
 
 Republic.) 46 Camp Street, New 
 
 Britain, Conn., October 14, 1905." 
 
 " Rev. John L. Maile. 
 
 Dear Comrade: Some fifteen years 
 ago the Department of Georgia, G. A. 
 R., considered the idea of buying the 
 Andersonville prison pen and holding it 
 in memory of the men who there died 
 for the preservation of the Union. 
 
 The committee bought all the land the 
 owners would release and hoped to raise 
 through the Northern posts and their 
 friends a permanent fund for the care 
 of the grounds. 
 
 The plan proved a failure. The G. 
 A. R. in the South is very poor. Its 
 members are mostly colored men who 
 
Woman's Relief Corps 125 
 
 are able to make little more than their 
 living. 
 
 On the property was a mortgage of 
 about $750, which was paid by the 
 Woman's Relief Corps, but money for 
 the care of the place was lacking. The 
 grounds were then offered to the United 
 States Government on the condition of 
 providing perpetual care. As Ander- 
 sonville is not a battlefield, the authori- 
 ties declined the proposition. 
 
 On two occasions a like proposal was 
 made to the National G. A. R. Encamp- 
 ment, but these veterans decided that 
 the time is not far distant when they can 
 care only for themselves. 
 
 With better success the responsibility 
 was tendered to the Woman's Relief 
 Corps, which felt that if there is a place 
 on God's earth that should be held sa- 
 cred, it is that prison pen. The officials 
 accepted the obligation, trusting to 
 woman's patriotism for support and 
 care, and they have not trusted in vain. 
 
 The adage that "God helps those who 
 help themselves" has been true in our 
 case. When we accepted the sacred 
 
126 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 trust and looked the ground over, I 
 found a large corner of the original pen 
 and three forts we did not own. We 
 bought the extra grounds and the forts, 
 paying for them several hundred dol- 
 lars more than they were worth. We 
 ventured for all or nothing — and all it 
 was. 
 
 This occurred in 1895, and in that 
 year I was elected President of the W. 
 R. C. At the convention we raised by 
 personal contributions $700 as a begin- 
 ning. 
 
 During several years each member 
 was asked to give from three to five 
 cents ; some responding, others refusing. 
 Now all bills are paid from the general 
 fund of the National organization. 
 
 We own eighty-eight and one-half 
 acres of land, including the seven forts ; 
 all the earthworks and rifle pits ; also the 
 wells dug by the men in trying to reach 
 water. These are in as perfect condition 
 as when the war closed. 
 
 Not a well has caved in or a fort 
 changed in shape. That hard, red clay 
 seems as unyielding as stone. 
 
Woman's Relief Corps 127 
 
 The grounds are inclosed with a high 
 wire fence and suitable gates. Roads 
 are laid out and bridges built over the 
 creek. Bermuda grass roots planted on 
 the north side will make an even lawn. 
 
 Grass seed for a sward will not ger- 
 minate in that soil. We have built over 
 Providence Spring a stone pavilion, 
 also a nine-room house, well furnished, 
 and after the northern home pattern. 
 
 We also have a barn, a henyard, a 
 good mule and all kinds of work tools 
 for such a place. 
 
 We engage an old veteran and his 
 wife as caretakers. From a pole 116 
 feet high floats in the air every day the 
 flag those heroes died to save. At our 
 last convention we voted to build a wind- 
 mill the coming winter. 
 
 Last fall we set our 300 roses and this 
 autumn will add 200 more. We have 
 also set out 150 four-year-old pecan 
 trees that are from 10 to 15 feet high. 
 They do finely in that soil and when 
 from ten to twelve years old will bear 
 a paying crop. A freeze does not affect 
 
128 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 them and they are marketable without 
 decaying. 
 
 Ohio, Massachusetts, Rhode Island 
 and Michigan have put up beautiful 
 monuments in the prison pen. Wiscon- 
 sin will have hers ready to dedicate on 
 next Memorial Day. 
 
 Pennsylvania, Iowa and Maine have 
 placed monuments in the cemetery. All 
 this has been done through the work of 
 the W. R. C. 
 
 While I believe the prison pen is the. 
 only place for the monuments, I am 
 thankful to have any State remember 
 their Andersonville men wherever they 
 think best. 
 
 " Death Before Dishonor' ' is the 
 motto on all the monuments within the 
 prison grounds. 
 
 Last year we had markers put down 
 on all the places of special interest ; also 
 on the stockade and dead lines. Trees 
 have grown up through the forts forty 
 feet high and are more than two feet 
 through. 
 
 The W. R. C. has started a fund for 
 the perpetual care of the Prison Pen 
 
Woman's Relief Corps 129 
 
 Park. We began last year and have al- 
 ready $3,000 in the fund. The yearly 
 income is to be added to the principal, 
 and none to be used until the proceeds 
 are sufficient to support the place. 
 
 We are to set aside annually not less 
 than $1,000 for the increase of the fund, 
 besides caring for current expenses. 
 
 You will, I am sure, be much inter- 
 ested in the situation. I have been 
 Chairman of the Board from the begin- 
 ning and hope to live long enough to see 
 sufficient money set aside to care for the 
 place forever/' 
 
 Yours in F. C. and L., 
 
 LIZABETH A. TURNER, 
 
 Chairman Andersonville Prison Board 
 of Control.' ' 
 
 Mrs. Turner served as President of 
 the Woman's Relief Corps, Auxiliary 
 to the Grand Army of the Republic, and 
 was appointed by her compeers as Life 
 Chairman of the Andersonville Prison 
 Board. Her death occurred at Ander- 
 sonville on April 27, 1907. 
 
130 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 A monument suitable to her memory, 
 erected by the Woman's Relief Corps, 
 adorns the prison grounds for which she 
 spared not her life to preserve and beau- 
 tify. 
 
 From the Annual Address of Mrs. 
 Fanny E. Minot, President of the 
 Woman's National Relief Corps, at the 
 Twenty-third Annual Convention, 1905 : 
 
 "In March it was my privilege, in 
 company with Mrs. Turner, Mrs. Win- 
 ans and Mrs. Kate E. Jones, to visit 
 Prison Park at Andersonville. As I 
 walked through the grounds and read 
 and pondered on the suffering there en- 
 dured, it seemed, indeed, a hallowed 
 spot. Just beyond is the National Cem- 
 etery, in whose broad trenches are in- 
 terred more soldiers in one group than 
 upon any battlefield on the face of the 
 globe. A whole army perished rather 
 than deny the country which gave them 
 birth ! The bravery of the men at Ther- 
 mopylae has been the theme of song and 
 story ; but they fought in the shadows of 
 their soul-inspiring mountains, while 
 these men, removed from the activities 
 
Woman's Relief Corps 131 
 
 of war, the flash of arms, the long array 
 of men eager for the contest, dragged 
 out a miserable existence till death came 
 to their relief. If ever men were loyal, 
 true and brave, whose names should be 
 inscribed on honor's roll, it was these." 
 
 "Who tasted death at every breath 
 And bravely met their martyrdom." 
 
 "How fitting that the magic touch of 
 woman should consecrate this prison 
 pen and make it a prison park! Only 
 patient, persistent effort has made the 
 change possible ; for the soil is unrespon- 
 sive, and tangled vines and underbrush 
 had run riot for many years. But on 
 this visit we found the grounds suitably 
 inclosed, the Bermuda grass taking root, 
 the moats and creek cleared of the vines 
 and the conopy erected over that won- 
 derful Providence Spring. The house 
 erected for the caretaker much exceeded 
 my expectations for comfort and con- 
 venience. Honeysuckles and roses 
 clambered over the porch, and the rose 
 garden, planned by Mrs. Turner, gave 
 
132 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 promise of beauty and fragrance where 
 formerly had been barrenness and foul 
 odors. On these grounds Ohio has raised 
 a beautiful granite shaft, Massachusetts 
 has placed a substantial monument near 
 by, Rhode Island has honored her dead 
 in bronze and stone, and last Memorial 
 Day the Governor of Michigan came 
 with friends to dedicate with appropri- 
 ate ceremonies a monument to the brave 
 sons of that State. Wisconsin has se- 
 lected a site near the spot where some of 
 her men encamped ; and other States are 
 planning to erect monuments, but wish 
 first to be assured that the park will 
 have permanent care." 
 
 PLANTING THE FLAG AT AN- 
 DERSON VILLE. 
 
 BY MRS. ANNIE WITTENMYER. 
 
 We lift up the banner of freedom today, 
 And let the world know that due honor 
 
 we pay 
 To liberty's martyrs, who starved for 
 
 the right, 
 And crown them with heroes who fell in 
 
 the fight. 
 
W otnan's Relief Corps 133 
 
 Their chalice of woe was filled up to the 
 brim; 
 
 They drank to the dregs with high 
 
 courage and vim, 
 Nor faltered, nor wavered, but loyal and 
 
 true, 
 Stood firm by their colors, the red, white 
 
 and blue. 
 
 The earth was their pillow, their cover- 
 ing the sky ; 
 
 And thousands lay down on the bare 
 ground to die ; 
 
 No artist can paint, no pen tell the story 
 
 Of all they endured for love of "Old 
 Glory." 
 
 The Lord, in compassion, took note of 
 their grief, 
 
 And came, in His majesty, to their re- 
 lief; 
 
 He rode on the wind, where swift light- 
 nings played, 
 
 And hallowed the ground where the 
 prisoners laid. 
 
134 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 They panted with thirst, ere the Pres- 
 ence passed by, 
 
 But flashes of glory lit up the dark sky ; 
 A thunderbolt fell, with omnipotent 
 
 ring, 
 And opened the fountain of Providence 
 
 Spring. 
 
 And peace came at last. Ah ! for thou- 
 sands too late ; 
 
 We mourn, as a people, their pitiful 
 fate, 
 
 And hold the ground sacred, our care 
 and our pride, 
 
 And plant the flag over the place where 
 they died. 
 
 But the Nation is saved ! They died not 
 
 in vain ; 
 Our people are all reunited again. 
 From ocean to ocean — the lakes to the 
 
 sea — 
 One country, one people, one flag of the 
 
 free! 
 
APPENDIX D. 
 
 A MEMORIAL DAY MEDITATION. 
 
 By Rev. H. H. Proctor, D J)., of Atlan- 
 ta, 6a., in The Congregationalist of 
 May 2, 1905. 
 
 "The thirtieth of May is sacred to 
 the nation. With its return the heart of 
 the country instinctively turns to those 
 eighty-three national cemeteries, mostly 
 on Southern soil, where in 194,492 
 known and 151,710 unknown graves lie 
 346,202 men who fell fighting for the 
 flag. And in all the land, fittingly 
 enough, there are no spots more beauti- 
 ful than these. For their care and im- 
 provement the national government 
 spends $100,000 a year. 
 
 The cemetery at Andersonville, Ga., 
 gains additional interest in view of the 
 famous prison connected with it. Of 
 these I wish to speak. No one can spend 
 a day there, as I did lately, without 
 drinking deep of the patriotic spirit. 
 
 135 
 
136 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 The very ground on which you stand 
 seems holy, when you think how brave 
 men suffered and died there. The very 
 air seems charged with their spirit still. 
 
 Some disappointment is felt when 
 over one hundred miles south of Atlanta 
 you get off at a little station, with a few 
 straggling houses here and there. But 
 in the distance, a mile away, the nation- 
 al flag waving invitingly bids reassur- 
 ance. At length you stand at the en- 
 trance of the cemetery, entering through 
 the strong iron gates of the thick ivy- 
 covered brick wall, 12,782 known and 
 923 unknown men are buried within. 
 
 Many things at once interest you. 
 Walks lead to every part of the grounds. 
 Trees, shrubbery and flowers enhance 
 the natural beauty of the place. Feath- 
 ered songers of the South chant daily 
 requiems. Each grave is marked by a 
 white marble headstone, on which is gen- 
 erally carved the number, rank, name 
 and state of the dead soldier. Here and 
 there we read the sad inscription, " Un- 
 known." The white stones contrasting 
 with the fine greensward under the soft 
 
A Memorial Day Meditation 137 
 
 Southern sky make an impressive scene. 
 This is especially true in that part of the 
 grounds where stands the splendid mon- 
 ument of New Jersey, as shown by the 
 accompanying illustration. 
 
 In a convenient place there is located 
 an octagonal rostrum, where every Me- 
 morial Day gathers a large concourse of 
 people to pay homage to the sacred dead. 
 After the exercises the most impressive 
 act of all follows. Each grave, officers 
 or private, white or black, known or un- 
 known, is decorated with a miniature 
 flag. And what a transformation ! In- 
 stead of the monotonous rows of bare 
 white stone a field of flags, by the magic 
 of loving remembrance, appears ! 
 
 But as impressive as is this cemetery, 
 more impressive still to me was the 
 prison. It is only a few rods away. Its 
 notoriety is universal. Blaine, in his 
 memorable speech in Congress, immor- 
 talized its more than Siberian horrors. 
 
 Some of the posts of the old stockade 
 fence, survivors of that dread prison 
 will be interested to know, still stand. 
 There, within a space of thirteen acres, 
 
138 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 52,345 men, the very flower of the Re- 
 public, were kept in a pen. For thirteen 
 months they were exposed in that rude 
 stockade to the heat in summer and the 
 cold in winter, to blistering sun and 
 chilling blasts. From cruelty and ex- 
 posure, hunger and thirst, disease and 
 dirt, they died like sheep. Every fourth 
 man died ! 
 
 The story of " Providence Spring" is 
 universally familiar. It proves that 
 God is yet with men as of old. The 
 water supply for these thousands in that 
 small space consisted of but one little 
 brook which of course soon became un- 
 spaekably foul. In their thirst they 
 cried unto God for water. He who hears 
 the cry of the raven could not be dumb 
 to the prayer of the suffering soldier. It 
 was night. Soon the sky was overcast 
 with clouds, the lightnings flashed, the 
 thunders rolled, and a great rain came 
 that night. Next morning a fountain of 
 living water sparkled in God's sunshine 
 near where the devout soldier had knelt 
 in prayer the night before. 
 
 In recognition of God's providential 
 
A Memorial Day Meditation 139 
 
 gift they christened it " Providence 
 Spring." Today a pavilion of stone, 
 erected by the Woman's National Relief 
 Corps, commemorates the spot. Two 
 significant utterances are carved on 
 marble tablets in the pavilion. On one 
 we read these words: "The prisoner's 
 cry of thirst rang up to heaven. God 
 heard and with his thunders cleft the 
 earth, and poured forth his sweetest 
 waters gushing here." Over the foun- 
 tain, which has never ceased from that 
 day to this, carved in Georgia marble 
 are the great words of that great man in 
 whose big soul the nation was born 
 again : "With charity to all and malice 
 toward none." 
 
 As I stood by this spot and looked up 
 on the hill I felt a new love of country 
 stir within my heart. I could but say in 
 my heart I would rather be a plain 
 American citizen, though black, than a 
 knighted Roman under Caesar. 
 
 As we think of that prison we are 
 thankful for the cemetery. The prison 
 typifies suffering. The cemetery is the 
 symbol of peace. Through that gateway 
 
140 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 of suffering our martyrs entered into 
 peace. How typical of the nation! 
 Through the crucible of suffering it en- 
 tered into peace.' ' 
 
 

 
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APPENDIX B. 
 
 SHALL THE GOVERNMENT CONFER PERMA- 
 NENT HONORS ON CONFEDERATE HEROES? 
 
 The magnanimity which dictated the 
 terms of surrender at Appomattox was 
 typical of the treatment extended by the 
 Government of the United States to its 
 defeated opponents. Well might this be 
 so. The sinews of strength of the 
 mighty North had through the four 
 years of desperate conflict grown strong 
 indeed. 
 
 A Confederate Major General de- 
 clared that the veterans of General 
 Sherman 's army, pushing their winter 
 way through the swamps and rivers of 
 the South ; foraging widely for subsist- 
 ance and always ready to fight, illus- 
 trated a type of soldier that the world 
 had not seen since the days of Julius 
 Caesar. 
 
 The final parade of the Union army 
 along Pennsylvania avenue before the 
 
 141 
 
142 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 President, the Cabinet, prominent Gen- 
 erals and notables of other nations, dis- 
 played a vast procession of seasoned vet- 
 erans whose effectiveness had never 
 been surpassed. They were the choice, 
 steel-tempered residue of more than two 
 millions of citizen soldiery who had en- 
 listed to preserve the union of States, 
 "one and inseparable," against the folly 
 of secession. 
 
 In the plentitude of their invincible 
 strength, nursing no lust of power, they 
 disbanded to peaceful homes from 
 whence they came ; subsiding from their 
 regnant military life as the mighty 
 storm- waves of the ocean sink away into 
 pacific calm. 
 
 Apart from wide-spread personal be- 
 reavement the North bore no serious 
 scars of war. The perfection of agricul- 
 tural machinery enabled rich harvests to 
 be gathered in season notwithstanding 
 the dearth of farm help which had gone 
 to the army. Factories of every kind 
 were, with large profits, turning out 
 abundantly all sorts of goods. Our com- 
 merce with the world was unhindered, 
 
Confederate Heroes 143 
 
 save by the eccentric raids of the Ala- 
 bama; the muscle and brawn of an 
 ample labor immigration supplied the 
 manual force necessary to national ex- 
 pansion; as illustrated in the building 
 of the trans-continental railroads. The 
 huge war debt instead of being felt as 
 an incubus was but a process of turning 
 into ready cash the prosperity of the 
 future. 
 
 Contrast with this picture the condi- 
 tion of the Southern States at the close 
 of the four dreadful years. Within a 
 goodly portion of her borders the coun- 
 try was war-swept and harried by the 
 consuming necessities of vast armies of 
 both friend and foe; for hungry men 
 and beasts on the march and in the fight 
 must subsist largely upon the supplies 
 which the foragers gather from the ad- 
 jacent regions. 
 
 Manufacture, as compared with the 
 North, was a neglected art south of 
 Mason's and Dixon's line. 
 
 The most extensive and effective naval 
 blockade of history hermetically sealed 
 nearly every Southern port, thereby 
 
144 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 hopelessly shutting in untold wealth of 
 cotton, the returns of which w r ere other- 
 wise available to every need. 
 
 No millions of stalwart immigrants 
 reinforced Southern industry; on the 
 contrary her labor system and property 
 tenure in human beings were shattered 
 in pieces. 
 
 The flower of her masculine youth 
 perished; the prestige of ruling intelli- 
 gence, culture and wealth was de- 
 throned and, to crown her afflictions al- 
 though she knew it not, the South lost 
 her best and most powerful friend in 
 the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. 
 
 Then followed the agonies of political 
 reconstruction and the ignoble invasion 
 of carpet-bag adventurers who, in many 
 instances, w 7 ere valiant only for pelf. 
 
 Surviving this wide-spread chaos the 
 South, for the most part, believed in 
 their lawful right of withdrawing from 
 the Union. By many of their leading- 
 minds this contention had been long 
 held, and that conception of government 
 doubtless had filtered down through all 
 
Confederate Heroes 145 
 
 classes of society so far as thought was 
 developed on the subject. 
 
 The defense of State rights probably 
 was a more powerful incentive to civil 
 war than was at first the purpose to de- 
 fend slavery. 
 
 The bravery of Southern soldiers has 
 never been surpassed. The self-sacri- 
 ficing patriotism of Southern women 
 reached the high-water mark. 
 
 The vitality and moral force of South- 
 ern chivalry was distinguished even in 
 the remarkable loyalty of the slaves. 
 
 If the foregoing briefly stated consid- 
 erations form a truthful presentation of 
 the case, why, it may be asked, may not 
 the National Government expand the 
 magninimity of President Lincoln and 
 General Grant by engaging with Con- 
 gress to erect monuments and other 
 memorials to heroes of the army and 
 navy of the Confederacy? The first 
 step towards such procedure has al- 
 ready been taken in the form of pro- 
 posed legislation at Washington. 
 
 We would not imply that the most 
 eminent leaders of the Southern forces 
 
146 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 were personalty unworthy of posthumos 
 honor. 
 
 On the contrary it is our privilege to 
 bear testimony to the exalted individual 
 worth, the consecrated devotion to 
 country as they understood the duty, 
 and the pre-eminent ability in action 
 that characterized the most noted lead- 
 ers of the Confederacy. 
 
 Nevertheless their relation to national 
 history is determined, not by individual 
 excellencies, but by the fact that they 
 rebelled against the Government they 
 were sworn to defend. To the utmost 
 they did all they could to dismember the 
 Union of which they were an integral 
 part, to dishonor the flag that embla- 
 zoned the glory of a common origin and 
 history. 
 
 In the interest of perpetuating a far- 
 reaching sentiment of loyalty to na- 
 tional life and well-being we would 
 strenuously deny the moral right of 
 Congress to make appropriations for 
 the erection of memorials that are de- 
 signed to crown Confederate valor with 
 renown. If by private subscriptions 
 
Confederate Heroes 147 
 
 admirers wish to build monuments they 
 undoubtedly will be allowed to do so. 
 
 Our Government has wisely extended 
 high courtesies to prominent Southern 
 Generals, and has on many occasions 
 held out the olive branch of peace. But 
 we must not forget that brotherly kind- 
 ness and neighborly good-will cannot 
 cancel the fact that the Southern con- 
 ception of government by state rights, 
 as against National sovereignty, meant 
 the destruction of the Nation as such 
 and was so intended. 
 
 Had the war for the Union been a 
 failure this fair continent on which has 
 been nourished the hopes of the world 
 would have been the arena of two gen- 
 eral governments separated by no natu- 
 ral dividing lines and probably at last to 
 be succeeded by contending states and 
 communities. 
 
 Thus the last condition of free civili- 
 zation in America would have been more 
 disgraceful than was the situation of 
 the warring principalities of ancient 
 Greece, because we had sinned against 
 a greater light than they possessed. 
 
148 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 If National monuments are dedicated 
 to commemorate Southern gallantry 
 will not a subtle influence steadily flow 
 out from these reminders of civil war 
 to the effect that assault upon the 
 Nation 's existence is an offense so trivial 
 as to be expiated by bravery on the field 
 of battle? 
 
 Who can tell what crises of peril may 
 in the future break in upon our beloved 
 land? And what if the youth of the 
 North and of the South are, from gen- 
 eration to generation, taught by the in- 
 fluence of public memorials that there 
 is no real distinction between those who 
 fought to save the Nation and those who 
 did all they could "that the government 
 of the people, by the people, and for the 
 people, shall (not) perish from the 
 earth." 
 
 We present a quotation from the 
 judgment of the Supreme Court, as 
 given by General N. P. Chipman on 
 page 503 of his recent and informing 
 book on Andersonville : 
 
 "The rebellion out of which the war grew 
 was without any legal sanction. In the eye of 
 
Confederate Heroes 149 
 
 the law it had the same properties as if it had 
 been the insurrection of a country or smaller 
 municipal territory as against the State to 
 which it belonged. The proportion and dura- 
 tion of the struggle did not affect its character. 
 Nor was there a rebel government de facto in 
 such a sense as to give any legal efficiency to 
 its acts. . . . The Union of the States, for all 
 the purposes of the constitution, is as perfect 
 and indissoluble as the union of the integral 
 parts of the States themselves; and nothing but 
 revolutionary violence can in either case de- 
 stroy the ties which hold the parties together. 
 "For the sake of humanity certain belliger- 
 ant rights were conceded to the insurgents in 
 arms. But the recognition did not extend to 
 the pretended government of the Confederacy. 
 . . . The Rebellion was simply an armed resist- 
 ence of the rightful authority of the sovereign. 
 Such was its character, its rise, progress and 
 downfall. ' ' 
 
 The legal aspects of the case as thus 
 expressed have their great value as in- 
 dicating facts fundamental to organic 
 National existence and they demon- 
 strate the inherent inconsistency of de- 
 voting Federal appropriations to the 
 erection of monuments to the honor of 
 opponents of the Union. This can be 
 but a transient purpose which should 
 
150 Prison Life in Anders onville 
 
 and, we believe will be, relinquished. 
 
 We close this narrative with the 
 words of a departed soldier who was a 
 devoted friend of General Lee and after- 
 wards a trusted counsellor of General 
 Grant, as recorded in the Memoirs of 
 Gen. John B. Gordon, pp. 464, 465 : 
 
 "American youth in all sections 
 should be taught to hold in perpetual 
 remembrance all that was great and 
 good on both sides; to comprehend the 
 inherited convictions for which saintly 
 women suffered and patriotic men died ; 
 to recognize the unparalleled carnage as 
 proof of unrivalled courage; to appre- 
 ciate the singular absence of personal 
 animosity and the frequent manifesta- 
 tion between those brave antagonists of 
 a good-fellowship such as had never be- 
 fore been witnessed between hostile 
 armies. It will be a glorious day for 
 our country when all the children within 
 its borders shall learn that the four 
 years of fratricidal war between the 
 North and the South was waged by 
 neither with criminal or unworthy in- 
 tent, but by both to protect what they 
 
Confederate Heroes 151 
 
 conceived to be threatened rights and 
 imperiled liberty ; that the issues which 
 divided the sections ivere born when the 
 Republic was born, and were forever 
 buried in an ocean of fraternal blood. 
 We shall then see that, under God's 
 providence, every sheet of flame from 
 the blazing rifles of the contending 
 armies, every whizzing shell that tore 
 through the forests at Shiloh and Chan- 
 cellorsville, every cannon-shot that 
 shook Chickamauga 's hills or thundered 
 around the heights of Gettysburg, and 
 all the blood and the tears that were 
 shed are yet to become contributions for 
 the upbuilding of American manhood 
 and for the future defense of American 
 freedom. The Christian Church re- 
 ceived its baptism of pentecostal power 
 as it emerged from the shadows of Cal- 
 vary, and went forth to its world-wide 
 work with greater unity and a diviner 
 purpose. So the Republic, rising from 
 its baptism of blood with a national life 
 more robust, a national union more com- 
 plete, and a national influence ever 
 
152 Prison Life in Andersonville 
 
 widening, shall go forever forward in 
 its benign mission to humanity." 
 
 From the oldest to the youngest, let 
 us all unite in the patriotic salutation, 
 "I pledge my allegiance to my flag 
 and to the Republic for which it stands. 
 One Nation indivisible, with Liberty 
 and Justice for all. ' ' 
 
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