A friend in this city tells us of a little boy, a neighbor of his,
who took great pleasure in a beautiful play-ball painted with our own
national colors. While enjoying his play on the sidewalk recently, the
ball accidentally rolled into a neighbor’s basement. It was returned
to him after a while, with the red, white and blue washed off, and a
Secesh flag painted on instead. Comment is needless.
* * * * *
A gentleman from Chicago relates a remarkable fact in connection with
the Rebel prisoners at Chicago. The Rebel prisoners number about eight
thousand, and, of course, there are among them men of intelligence
and education, but the great numbers are deplorably ignorant. Colonel
Mulligan has these Rebels in charge, and as they have considerable
leisure time he has established a Yankee school for their instruction.
The educated prisoners were assigned as teachers, and the work is
progressing rapidly.
Two discharged members of the fourteenth regiment of regulars, who
have just arrived at Syracuse, New York, from Perryville, Maryland,
state that about the first of last February the Rebel sympathizers in
that town poisoned the wells, from which the men were in the habit of
procuring their drinking water, and that, as a consequence, two hundred
members of the regiment died, and of the remaining seven hundred,
hardly one has recovered his health.
Mr. Wm. P. Wood, superintendent, informed us this evening that the
prisoners here will be removed to Fort Delaware on to-morrow.
_July 4th._ Captain Higgins and Lieutenant J. Miller have treated us
since our confinement here with comparative kindness, and all the
prisoners have become somewhat attached to them on that account. Their
conduct towards us has been a pleasing contrast with the uncouth
bearing and tyranny in petty things of other officers. The following
will explain itself.
At a meeting held this morning, in room No. 3, the following preamble
and resolution were unanimously adopted:
“Whereas Captain Benjamin D. Higgins and Lieutenant J. Miller (as
officers connected with this prison) have by their gentlemanly,
courteous and soldierly bearing towards us, won our esteem and respect,
_Therefore, be it Resolved_, That it is with regret that we part with
these gentlemen, inasmuch as they have exemplified that urbane and
respectful bearing, even in our present relations with each other, is
not incompatible with the faithful discharge of a soldier’s duty.”
Captain E. Pliny Bryan was called to the chair, and a committee of
three was appointed to hand these resolutions to the above named.
About half past 10, A.M., we started in charge of Lieutenant J. B.
Mix, of “Scott’s nine hundred,” for the depot, where we were detained
an hour. United States soldiers and citizens crowded around the cars.
Beyond the expressions of a few intoxicated men, nothing insulting
was said to us, but great anxiety was manifested to converse with us,
which, in every instance, was prohibited. Several persons, however,
stepped up under the windows of the cars, covered their mouths with
their hands, and said in an under tone, “I’m Secesh, and sympathize
with you.” One, while he did this, dropped two gold dollars into the
hands of a prisoner, enquiring audibly, “How are you, brother Jim?”
A lady requested the officer in charge to allow her to speak to her
_cousin_, and she was permitted to do so. Her cousin, Lieutenant S.,
then received from her a card, on which was written the name of a
lady he had known in Charleston, South Carolina, In return he handed
her a card, on which was a likeness of President Davis, and she
seemed delighted at the exchange. On the departure of the train from
the depot, the prisoners vociferously cheered for Davis, Beauregard
and Johnston. Arrived in Baltimore at 2, P.M. As we moved along the
streets in the same cars, drawn by horses to the Philadelphia depot,
the prisoners sang Southern songs, and cheered for Davis, while men
and women, concealed behind obstacles and windows, were seen to
waive handkerchiefs at them. Notwithstanding the array of bayonets
and swords, down-trodden Southern feeling was thus made apparent. At
this time a Confederate Lieutenant hallooed for Beauregard, and a
Yankee officer replied, “D—n Beauregard, I wish he was in h—ll, where
you ought to be.” As we advanced towards Philadelphia, we found the
Secession feeling growing less. Passing a small town in Pennsylvania,
a “Louisiana Tiger” cried out, “Hurrah for Jackson,” and a woman
replied, “Go to h—ll.” At Havre de Grace, in Maryland, the “tiger”
above mentioned, displayed a small Confederate flag, whereupon an
overgrown inebriated fellow said, “I can whip the man that showed that
flag if the officer in charge will let us have a fair open fight.” The
officer took the flag away from the “tiger,” and told the man, in a
joke, that he might “have a fair open fight,” but the man, I suppose,
thought discretion the better part of valor, for he declined to accept
the privilege. Lieutenant J. B. Mix, the officer in charge, proved
himself a very clever gentleman, and did all he could to make us as
comfortable as circumstances would allow. We arrived in Philadelphia
at 12 o’clock at night. As late as it was a small crowd had collected
at the depot, and there was a great disposition manifested to talk
with us—some few seemed inclined to talk rationally and calmly, while
others made this an occasion to vent their venom freely, which latter
invariably recoiled upon them with “good measure pressed down, heaped
up and running over.” Had not an officer interfered, they would have
torn a Louisianian “to pieces,” as they said. An old woman remarked,
“My husband and three sons are before Richmond, and I wish I had more
to send. I wish they would let me kill them rebels. Why don’t they kill
’em?” Many loose remarks were made, such as “they have no free schools,
and are so ignorant,” “they want a monarchy,” &c., &c. Lieutenant Mix
went to get us something to eat at a restaurant, but was refused, the
keeper saying he would sell nothing to rebels, and he hoped we would
starve. Some of the people said that the “Southerners” treated their
prisoners very badly, which was stoutly denied. Mr. Olden from Aldie,
Virginia, told them that he was kept four days handcuffed without
anything to eat, and the crowd agreed that “he ought not to have had
anything to eat—any man that would turn traitor to his country.” In a
conversation with a Federal officer the latter was frank enough to say
that he wished we had peace; he was tired of the war; would resign if
he could do so without disgrace; that if the North backed down now,
they would be a ruined and a disgraced people, and that they were
fighting for their very existence.
At 5 o’clock we left Philadelphia for Fort Delaware, which is forty
miles south-west of “the city of brotherly love?” We were evidently
brought this circuitous rout for display—to lead the people to
believe we were prisoners from Richmond. Arrived at the fort at 10
o’clock, A.M.—a gloomy looking place. At the west end of the fort
the roll was called immediately on our entrance in the yard. As the
names were called the officers were ordered inside the fort, and
the non-commissioned officers and privates to an enclosure like a
sheep-pen. Captain A. Gibson, commandant of the post, seemed to
endeavor by harsh expressions and manner to intimidate the prisoners.
Assuming us much ferocity as possible, he would say, “Why don’t you
answer to your name, sir?” “Speak louder, walk along faster,” &c., &c.;
but he always had thrust back at him as harsh language as he could
adopt. A Louisianian, after replying “here,” in a stentorian voice, as
his name was called, _gave old Gibson a look of vengeance_, and the
latter remarked, “A damned impudent scoundrel.” Lieutenant Mix, (the
officer in charge of the prisoners from Washington to Fort Delaware,)
told us that the train in which we came to Philadelphia was expected
at the latter place four hours earlier than it arrived, and that had
we been up to time, we would probably have been mobbed, for about two
thousand had assembled and waited an hour at the depot for us for that
purpose. As it was, two of the prisoners were struck with rocks, one on
the head, and the other in the side.
_July 6th._ Our monotonous confinement furnishes but little worthy of
record, but memory leads me back to our experience at the Philadelphia
depot; and I laugh at what was said and done by the bitter and
misguided fanatics. An old woman came up under the car window and
asked Captain S. very seriously, “When will this war end?” to which
the Captain replied, “Madam, when all of your troops are withdrawn
from our soil”—a man who standing by, who had been boring us for some
time with his Bombastes Furiosi talk, said to Captain S., “I wish I
had you out of the cars, I’d take your heart out”—this same man had
the impudence to try to draw Major H. into conversation with him,
but the latter told him, “I want nothing to say to you—you insulted
my friend, and you might insult me,” and the man walked off like a
dog with his tail between his legs. A pleasant-looking fellow, with
a seemingly inexhaustible flask of whiskey in his pocket, and good
humor issuing from every pore of his jolly countenance, was passing
from car to car, (while we were waiting so long at the Philadelphia
depot,) and discussing with evident satisfaction to himself the great
question which divided the late “United States.” At length we all
became heartily tired of his witticisms, and one after another “poohed”
and “pshawed” at him. At this he became very angry, and began to use
Billingsgate language pretty freely, but throughout his antics he came
off No. 2.
_July 7th._ The New York Herald attempts to prove Horace Greeley a
Secessionist, by quotations from his own paper:
_From the Tribune of November 9, 1860._
If the cotton States shall become satisfied that they can do better
out of the Union than in it, we insist on letting them go in peace.
The right to secede may be a revolutionary one; but it exists,
nevertheless. * * * We must ever resist the right of any State to
remain in the Union and nullify or defy the laws thereof. To withdraw
from the Union is quite another matter; and whenever a considerable
section of our Union shall deliberately resolve to go out, we shall
resist all coercive measures designed to keep it in. We hope never
to live in a Republic whereof one section is pinned to another by
bayonets.
_From the Tribune of November 26, 1860._
If the cotton States unitedly and earnestly wish to withdraw
peacefully from the Union, we think they should and would be allowed
to do so. Any attempt to compel them by force to remain would be
contrary to the principles enunciated in the immortal Declaration of
Independence, contrary to the fundamental ideas on which human liberty
is based.
_From the Tribune of December 17, 1860._
If it (the Declaration of Independence) justified the secession from
the British empire of three millions of colonists in 1776, we do
not see why it would not justify the secession of five millions of
Southerners from the Union in 1861.
_From the Tribune of February 23, 1861._
We have repeatedly said, and we once more insist, that the great
principle embodied by Jefferson in the Declaration of American
Independence, that governments derive their just power from the
consent of the governed, is sound and just; and that, if the slave
States, the cotton States, or the Gulf States only, choose to form an
independent nation, they have a clear moral right to do so. * * * *
Whenever it shall be clear that the great body of the Southern people
have become conclusively alienated from the Union, and anxious to
escape from it, we shall do our best to forward their views.
_July 18th._ There is said to be about 3,000 prisoners confined at
this fort, the majority of which are in a pen, which is called “the
barracks,” and which I shall more fully describe hereafter. The men
sleep two on a board, about three feet wide—are compelled to cut their
hair short—are marched and countermarched about an hour every day—felt
all over by the Dutch sergeants, and made to bring water and do other
work about the garrison. They have “coffee-water” sometimes, and a
piece of bread six by three inches, and a small piece of meat scarcely
fit for a dog to eat, for breakfast; “soup-water” for dinner, with
bread about the dimensions above, and “coffee-water” for supper, and
bread same as at breakfast and dinner. They drink river water, which
is really offensive to the smell. The privy they use is intolerably
filthy, and accommodation for three thousand is not large enough for
three hundred.
A Yankee soldier who attempted to escape from this fort, where he was
on duty, was sentenced to carry the ball and chain four hours every
day for five months! He has been carrying it three months now. I see
the poor fellow every day from my window, and he appears to be in
much suffering. The following, in regard to this fort, is from the
“Philadelphia Enquirer.”
FORT DELAWARE AND THE REBEL PRISONERS.—There are, at the present time,
3,181 rebel prisoners confined at Fort Delaware, and about 3,000
more expected at the end of next week. The steamer Baltic arrived
at the Fort on Saturday last, having on board 1,200 prisoners, who
were transferred from Governor’s Island, New York, to Fort Delaware;
they comprise the whole number quartered at Governor’s Island. The
rumors of an outbreak recently of the prisoners at the Fort have no
foundation in fact. While it is conceded by officers of the Fort that
a determined attempt at capture would create trouble, no ultimate good
to the rebels could possibly result.
The prisoners, with the exception of the rebel officers, who are
about one hundred in number, and who have quarters inside the Fort,
occupy barracks on the upper end of the Island. These barracks are
commanded by heavy casemate guns in the Fort, and also by shotted
field pieces. A strong guard also patrols the Island at all hours, to
prevent any attempt at escape. The barracks erected are capable of
accommodating 2,000 men. Other barracks are in course of erection,
intended to accommodate 5,000 more. The guard consists of about 250
men, comprising portions of three batteries.
Recruiting is going on in this city to fill these batteries to the
required standard, and with flattering success. Lieutenant Wm. G.
Rohrman is employed in this service, and a considerable number are
recruited and sent down daily. The troops are encamped on the meadows
near the Fort. One company, numbering about sixty men and about thirty
regulars, are stationed inside. A hospital has been built near the
barracks for the sick and wounded rebels, and every attention given to
them.
_Extracts from proceedings in the United States House of
Representatives._
_Mr. Mallory, of Kentucky._ I think the slaves of Southern rebels
should be used as our armies advance in all menial service, such as
boating and assisting in the fortifications. My reasons against arming
them are—1st. That when armed they would be turned against those who
had been their masters, and their practice will be an indiscriminate
slaughter of men, women and children. 2d. You cannot for your lives
make of slaves an army whose services in the field will pay the expense
of organizing them. One shot from a cannon would disperse thirty
thousand of them.
_Mr. Stevens, of Pennsylvania._ Then they will do injury to the rebels
who fight them. I am for employing them against their masters. I
suppose the gentleman wants to employ the slaves in a menial service,
and after the war return them to their masters under the fugitive slave
law. I would raise 100,000 to-morrow. They are not barbarians, and are
as much calculated to be humane as any class of people. It is false
to say they will not make good soldiers. I would seize every foot of
land and dollar of property, and apply them to the army as we go along.
I would plant in the South military colonies, and sell the land to
soldiers of freedom, holding the heritage of traitors, and building up
institutions without the recognition of slavery.
_Mr. Wickliffe, of Kentucky._ It is a miserable policy to muster
runaway blacks into service. If twenty million of freemen cannot
suppress a rebellion of six millions of white men, let the
acknowledgment at once be made.
_July 9th._ On the 4th of July President Davis, dressed in full
regimentals, after the ceremony of a mock trial, was hung in effigy in
west Philadelphia.
A prisoner, attached to a Virginia regiment, was taken sick last night,
and carried from the barracks to the hospital _at 9 o’clock_, _and was
buried at 10 o’clock_. Quick work!
I shall have been here a week the day after to-morrow. We are so
closely confined that it seems like a month on account of the “weary,
lagging hours.” A fellow prisoner says he has been here a month, and
he has to write 1862 every day, so as not to forget it, for it appears
like 1863.
_July 10th._ One of the modes adopted here, in order to tantalize us,
is to tell us we “are to be paroled or exchanged to-morrow.” This once
had the effect to fill the prisoners with the roseate hues of hope, but
disappointment had so often been the result of such announcements, that
we no longer listen to them with credit.
The Yankees certainly do not desire the release of Colonel Corcoran,
nor have they ever desired it. His confinement appeals too strongly to
the Irish to volunteer, and about this time particularly volunteers are
much needed.
_Mr. Fessenden, of Maine_, said in the Senate yesterday, “There is
another thing I think a great mistake, and that is the attempt to
deceive the people by calling a defeat “a great strategic movement.””
He thought the people should be trusted, and told the whole truth as to
what was wanted by the country. Deal with them honestly, and every true
Northern heart will respond, deal with enemies as enemies, and friends
as friends. It is folly to hesitate to tell the people of this country
exactly what the state of things is. He had been amused by seeing a
call upon the different Governors for 300,000 troops, which simply
meant that the President and Government thought they would want more
troops. The enemy knows this, everybody knows it, then why not tell the
truth?
_Mr. Rice, Senator from Minnesota, said_: “The time had come when
we must either recognise the Southern Confederacy, or speedily put
it down—use all the means in our power to do so. Must we, when the
rebels resort to all sorts of means, fail from any sickly notions, and
refrain from using all the means in our power to meet and suppress the
rebellion? He would not hesitate for a moment to vote for any measure
that would put the rebellion to an end.”
_Mr. Wilson, of Massachusetts_, was in favor of fighting the battle to
a successful issue, and drafting if necessary, but he agreed with the
Senator from Maine that this style of rose-water must cease, that it
would be better to tell the whole truth to the people, and not attempt
to deceive them. _It seemed as if we had an organized system of lying
in this country._ “He thought the censorship of the press had been a
great disadvantage.”
Most of the articles in the newspapers in reference to the war are
simply malicious falsehoods, the creation of base minds and evil hearts.
The Washington correspondent of the Philadelphia Enquirer says:
“Lieutenant Clure, of the 92d Ohio, with 28 rebel prisoners from the
Shenandoah Valley, arrived to-day, and while en route to the Provost
Marshal’s office they were taken to a Secession house on C Street,
and feasted for several hours, and then taken to a number of drinking
saloons by Secesh sympathisers.”
_July 11th._ Joseph C. Paul, a private in Company K, Pennsylvania
Zouaves, says in a letter dated James river, July 5th, to a friend in
Philadelphia, “We are now lying near James river, and rest assured that
if the enemy attack us again before we are prepared, it will not be a
loss of five nights’ sleep to us as before, as we will occupy Richmond
as sure as fate. This is the opinion of distinguished officers.”
Lincoln has gone on a visit to the army of the Potomac, accompanied by
P. H. Watson, assistant Secretary of War.
The “Philadelphia Evening Bulletin” says General Burnside has promptly
brought his fine division of veterans, who have won laurels at Roanoke
Island and Newbern, to James river, and they are now joined to the army
of the Potomac.
Captain Gibson tells us to-day that arrangements have been made for an
immediate exchange of prisoners.
The Philadelphia Enquirer says, “Major Trumbull, of the first
Connecticut artillery, has arrived in town, and is fast recovering from
an attack of the Chickahominy fever.” It is presumed that the Major
referred to is not the only one suffering from the Chickahominy fever
about this time.
_July 12th._ Gold is riz, and, in the language of the poet, it
threatens to be rizzer. Some Yankee financiers argue that gold is not
up, but that paper is down! This question between pecuniary tweedledee
and tweedledum seems to puzzle the _quid nuncs_ since the retreat of
McClellan.
A sergeant escaped from the barracks last night. He lives in Baltimore.
To all intents and purposes Captain Gibson, in command of this post,
is a prisoner on the island, whose only consolation seems to be to
exercise his petty tyranny over “rebel” prisoners. There are men whose
nature has a peculiar affinity for anything petty, mean, and bad. They
fly upon it like a vulture upon carrion. I discover that it is the
policy of the Yankees to allow those in immediate attendance on the
inmates of prisons to _seem_ to grant them some indulgences _at times_,
in order to gain their confidence, and arrive at their secrets. Some
ladies from Delaware visited the Fort yesterday, and when concealed
behind pillars, so as not to be seen by the officers of the Fort, they
waved their handkerchiefs at the prisoners. After they left, they sent
a request, clandestinely, to them for “Secession buttons.” The ladies,
as a general thing, North and South, seem to be with us. This speaks
well for the _heart_ of the Southern people, for this is the commodity
ladies deal in.
_July 13th._ From Yankee newspapers it seems that gold has become
scarce, since it has risen so in value:
The Gold and the Silver
Have vanished and fled,
And people must carry
Shinplasters instead.
A gentleman from Florida, who has been a prisoner at Fort Lafayette,
in New York harbor, was brought here yesterday. At Fort Lafayette he
has been in double irons since the 27th of April last, because it was
alleged that he was a captain of a band of guerillas to hang Union men.
He is a private attached to the 3d Florida regiment, Colonel Dilworth.
The Yankees have threatened to hang him several times. He was captured
at St. Johns, while within an hundred yards of his house, whither he
was going on furlough. A sermon was preached in the Fort this evening,
and my friend Lieutenant W., who has fortunately a religious turn of
mind, heard it, and informs me that it was a fine effort, although
emanating from a Yankee. The gist of it was that religion is not
incompatible with a soldier’s life. For my own part, I believe that as
no good can come out of Nazareth, or pure water from a foul spring, so
nothing sincere can fall from a Yankee’s lips.
Look at “Old Gip” (Captain Gibson) as he winds about the yard of the
fort! His slim figure is made all the slimmer by tight pantaloons.
He walks with as quick a step as his left leg twisted at an angle of
forty-seven degrees will permit. He carries his chin as if conscious
of a stiff cravat, and his old palm leaf hat is set with a knowing
inclination to the left ear. “Old Gip” is a tall, spare and ungainly
looking man, of about fifty years of age, with a pale ascetic
countenance, which carries with it an expression vibrating between
low suspicion and vulgarity. His hair is cut tolerably close, close
enough to display in their full proportions a large pair of ears,
which stand out in “relief” like turrets from a watch-tower, and with
pretty much the same object. His beard is short, and of pepper and salt
color, and he has a malicious twinkling eye. Most persons have some
prevailing characteristic, which usually gives tone and color to all
their thoughts and actions, forming what we denominate _temperament_.
The temperament of “Old Gip” seems to take delight in being as rough,
uncouth, and disobliging as possible to all whom cruel fate has brought
with the unfortunate limits of his tyranny. Occasionally the officers
are allowed to walk on the parapet of the fort for recreation for
about an half hour. Any conversation with the sentinels is strictly
forbidden, and for not observing the rule in this respect, some
officers have been placed in solitary confinement. Not long since,
while the Confederate officers were walking on the parapet, they
noticed a vessel approaching with a flag, which, at a distance, looked
exactly like the Confederate flag, and the conversation became general
upon the subject, in the course of which, one of the officers observed,
in a jocular way, that he believed it was the “stars and bars,” and
said, “Hurrah for Jeff Davis.” Soon the sentinel informed us, “Your
time is up,” and we had scarcely reached our quarters when the officer
above referred to received a note from “Old Gip,” in which the Yankee
functionary used this language: “For this, your first offence, I _warn_
you, but for a repetition of the crime, may God have mercy on your
soul!” The sentinel must have informed Captain Gibson of the _crime_,
for the latter was not within hearing when the remark was made.
_July 14th._ An old Dutch soldier in the fort said to-day, “I don’t
care which side whips by Got, so I gets my thirteen dollars a month.”
Another Yankee soldier remarked to a prisoner, “You have plenty of
friends in this yard, but we must keep mum.” Captain Gibson has just
issued an order preventing prisoners from receiving money from their
friends, but allows them to buy necessaries from the sutler, and give
an order on him when he has funds in his hands belonging to a prisoner.
This is caused by the escape of several prisoners lately, for it is
supposed that the sentinels were bribed by the parties who escaped.
The Black Republican members of the United States Congress are as
far from mixing with the Democrats as oil with water. The two are
always quarrelling in spite of the fact, that the Black Republicans
are ever trying to be a little more Democratic, while the Democrats
make constant efforts to be a little “Republican.” In this way the
Black Republicans are like onions rubbed with Democratic spices; the
strong original nigger odor is blended with new and foreign matter.
However much the Democrats aim to conceal the fact, it is quite plain
that Black Republican Onion offends Democratic nostrils, while the new
Democratic spice is quite unwelcome to the genuine Black Republican.
_July 15th._ Ten prisoners escaped last night. From a Northern paper
I learn that the following dispatch has just been received at the
War Department, “Nashville,” July 14th. It was the ninth, instead of
the eleventh Michigan regiment, that surrendered at Murfreesboro’,
Tennessee. The eleventh arrived at the camp near the Davisville Fair
Grounds, yesterday afternoon, after an unsuccessful three days’
chase after Morgan. Three members of Hewitt’s battery, who escaped
from Murfreesboro’, report that the battery and the third Minnesota
surrendered to the rebels. Colonel Duffield is mortally wounded, and
General T. A. Crittenden, of Indiana, taken prisoner.
Mrs. Phillips, who was not long since released from the old capital
prison at Washington city, and sent South, has been again arrested by
an order from “Beast Butler,” on the charge of “mocking” at the funeral
remains of Lieutenant De Kay, and imprisoned in one of the houses on
Ship Island, intended for hospital purposes, where she is to be allowed
one female servant, and no more, and a soldier’s ration a day, with the
means of cooking it. Another order from the same source sentences Fidel
Keller or Kelti to two years’ hard labor on Ship Island for exhibiting
in his bookstore window a skeleton labelled “Chickahominy.” A third
order sentences John W. Audins to hard labor for two years, for having
exhibited a cross, which he said was fashioned from the bones of a
Yankee soldier.
Lincoln has just had an interview with the members of Congress from
the border States, the object of which is said to have been to impress
upon them the necessity of urging their respective States to adopt
the gradual emancipation policy, in order to avoid, says the New York
Express, “immediate and bloody abolition.” The telegraph reports that
General Curtis, (who is endeavoring to retreat through Arkansas to
the Mississippi river, opposite Memphis,) is suffering terribly for
want of forage and supplies. Also, on Monday, his command was at
Jacksonport, and General Hindman had ordered the railroad bridge at
Madison to be burned, to prevent Curtis from passing in that direction,
and had also required all the inhabitants near Gauley bridge to burn
their provisions and shoot their cattle, lest they should be seized
by foraging parties sent out by Curtis. Charges have been preferred
against General Mitchell by the division formerly commanded by him
in North Alabama. He is accused of having permitted a portion of his
troops to perpetrate upon the people of North Alabama “deeds of cruelty
and of guilt, the bare narration of which makes the heart sick.”
Ex-President Fillmore says “that the Abolitionists in Congress had
undone what the army had done.”
The New York Express says: “Adjutant General Thomas came to this
city a day or two ago to make arrangements concerning Confederate
prisoners at Governor’s Island and Fort Lafayette. After a thorough
examination, it was found inexpedient to permit any considerable
number of Secessionists to occupy Governor’s Island. It is one of
the largest ordnance depots in the United States. The arsenal on the
island contains millions of dollars worth of war material, and as the
different fortifications constitute a part of our harbor defences, and
the armaments constantly ready for use, a comparatively small number of
Secessionists, should the guard in any event be overpowered, could do a
vast amount of damage. The prisoners, numbering 1,100, have been taken
to Fort Delaware.” They have arrived.
_July 16th._ The papers report the thermometer at 90° in the shade.
It must be 100° in the room in which we are confined. We are losing
flesh and health rapidly. A call for a mass meeting in New Jersey
says, among other things: “While the waning ranks of the rebels are
furnished by conscription, let it be our boast that we defend the
nation by the heroic volunteer.” The New York Tribune says: “There are
upwards of three thousand prisoners on that island, (Pea Patch Island,)
among which is the notorious Colonel Pettigrew. Colonel Gibson, with a
sufficient force at his command, has charge of the prisoners. One of
the finest forts in the country is being constructed on that island.
The island is located forty miles south of Philadelphia, and two and
a half from the nearest point of the main land.” A correspondent of
the Buffalo Express, writing from Old Point Comfort, under date of
July 4th, says: “The 44th, (Ellsworth Avengers,) which I persist in
calling the finest regiment that ever took the field, is a mere wreck.
On Wednesday, after the last of their many fights, they stacked arms
with only 90 muskets—a sad remainder of the original 1,040 men. Of the
greater portion, some are killed, more are wounded, and still more are
home on sick leave.”
Horace Greeley says: “The proper cure for a guerilla is hemp, looped
over the first tree, guerilla pendant.” The following also is from
that infamous sheet, the New York Tribune: “There is much excitement
in Nashville, and there is great fear of a rebel attack on that city.
At the Murfreesboro’ fight $30,000 worth of army stores were lost on
our side. The Pennsylvania 7th lost 200 men—only three or four of their
officers escaped. _The rebel loss is said to be greater than ours._”
The latter is what the Yankees always record. In all their reports of
battles they wind up by saying, “the rebel loss is said to be greater
than ours.” In the case above referred to, a more disgraceful lie was
never recorded even by a Yankee.
The Northern papers stated a week ago, and we were assured, that
a general exchange of prisoners had been agreed upon by the two
governments. In yesterday’s Tribune I find the following: “We are
assured that the report of an agreement for a general exchange of
prisoners is premature. Yet it is thought that both sides will favor
some immediate arrangement.” The bill for the admission of the “State
of Western Virginia,” after a long discussion, was yesterday adopted by
a vote of 23 to 17. In the House the Ways and Means Committee reported
the Miscellaneous Appropriation Bill, with the donation to Gales &
Seaton _stricken out_. The Yankee Congress adjourned to-day.
_July 17th._ From the Baltimore _Sun_, of July 12th, I extract: “A
Washington paper states that the government has agreed upon a general
exchange of prisoners of war, and that arrangements will speedily be
made for the sending South of the prisoners now held on the seaboard.
All the prisoners confined at New York were taken on board a steamer
yesterday.” A western correspondent of a Yankee paper, under date of
Vicksburg, July 7th, says: “General Hindman is reported to be at Little
Rock with a large force. He has with him a million dollars in gold and
silver, which he obtained ‘by the authority of the sword’ from the
banks in Memphis. He is disliked by his troops for his oppressiveness
and tyranny. His last order was for the impressment of every man in
Arkansas capable of bearing arms. This, of course, has created a great
deal of indignation among the people, and has made many enemies to
the cause of Secession. Hindman, as a General, is the same swaggering
bombast that he was as a Congressman. In his own town of Helena he is
despised worse than the meanest and most contemptible citizen. He took
advantage of the temporary insanity of the people to put himself in a
position that would not have been assigned him at any time since. His
debut in the rebellion was made at the head of the “Hindman Legion,”
which he raised immediately after his return from Washington City,
after the secession of his gallant State.”
“Simon Cohen was arrested in Baltimore on Monday, by officer Scott,
charged with displaying a Secession flag at his store, No. 185 Gay
street. He was held for the action of the provost marshal. Also,
Leonard Strikpon spent the day at a lager beer saloon on the Belair
Road, and imbibed somewhat freely, so much so, that he lost his senses,
and hurrahed for Jeff. Davis. Officer Smith took him into custody,
and Justice Spicer sent him to jail in default of bail to keep the
peace.”—_Baltimore News Sheet._
Colonel Hanson, of Kentucky, was to-day transferred to Fort Warren,
according to his own request.
_July 18th._ Anniversary of the battle at Bull Run. The prisoners
seem in fine spirits to-day in recollection of our victory a year
ago, though it’s hard to be cheerful in a room so dull as the one in
which we are confined! There is nothing in it that can awaken the mind
or call up a sentiment of solace! “The dawning of morn, the daylight
sinking,” generally furnishes us the same monotony! But the moody
silence our thoughts shed over us in this comfortless confinement is
often broken by the cheerful songs of Lieutenant S., who forces us to
ask ourselves,
“Why, soldiers, why
Should we be melancholy, boys?”
The daily promises of “Old Gip,” that Jackson’s men shall be paroled
in a few days, are not believed; yet, with this unbelief is blended a
ray of hope, and for one I say, “for God’s sake destroy not the hopes
that man holds out to me; upon them I live.” Dr. Reid says if we cannot
imbibe the spirit, it is often profitable to put on the appearance of
cheerfulness. “By _seeming_ gay, we grow to what we seem.”
Thousands of dollars worth of clothing have been sent to the
Confederate prisoners by Secessionists, and very little do they get.
“Old Gip” refuses to give it to many who are in a destitute condition,
but he makes the impression outside, that all clothing sent to us
by Secession friends is given to us. A box was sent to Captain R.
(a prisoner) with clothing in it, to distribute among the destitute
prisoners, but Gibson refused to allow him. The clothing is given to
Yankee soldiers. The Dutch Captain _Mtowlowski_ paid us a visit to-day.
He is a florid, fat, happy-looking, short fellow, with legs so thick,
that they very much resemble an elephant’s. His face is large and rosy,
and its general expression a mixture of good humor and inexhaustible
drollery. He wears a moustache _a la militaire_. On the whole, he
presents the appearance of a migratory lager beer keg. He would be
muscular, had not lager beer enervated his strong build, by placing a
superabundance of useless fat where muscle ought to be. The Captain
says that he was a prisoner in Europe, and that our fare is a paradise
to what his was, which is very hard to believe.
To-day my thoughts have turned to my early friends—those who have
been weighed in the balance and found not wanting. The thoughts of
early friendship! what a world of tender memory they suggest. For what
are all our later successes in life, however bright out fortunes,
compared with the early triumphs of boyish days? Where, among the
jealous rivalry of some, the cold and half-wrung praise of others, the
selfish and unsympathizing regard of all, shall we find anything to
repay us for the swelling exstacy of our young hearts, as we pledged
ourselves to each other in prosperity or adversity in the noble bonds
of friendship? Some moments we have which half seem to realize our
early dreams of ambition, and rouse the spirit within us. But what were
all compared to our boyish glories—to the little world of sympathy and
love our early friendships teemed with as we pledged ourselves to each
other? No, the world has no requital for this! It is like a bright day,
which, as its glories gild the east, display before us a whole world of
beauty and promise. Then our hopes have not withered—false friendships
have not scathed—cold, selfish interest has not yet hardened our hearts
or dried up our affections, and we are indeed happy; but equally, like
the burst of morning, it is short-lived and fleeting, and equally does
it pass away, never to return.
_July 19th._ My thoughts this morning have been engrossed upon the
subject of being exchanged or paroled—on being again among congenial
friends in the “Old Dominion!” But I shall no longer allow my fortune
or lot to be the sport of my temperament. I shall not give way to that
April-day frame of mind which is ever the jest and scoff of those
hardier and sterner natures, who, if never overjoyed by success, are
never much depressed by failure; for the glimpses of sunshine the world
has afforded me, fleeting and passing enough, in all conscience, I am
not so ungrateful as to repine, because it was not permanent. On the
other hand, I am thankful for those bright hours, which, if nothing
more, are, at least, delightful souvenirs. They form the golden thread
in the tangled web of our existence, ever appearing amid the darker
surface around, and throwing a fair halo of brilliancy on what—without
it—were cold, bleak and barren.
Lieutenant -—-, since he has been in prison here, wrote to his cousin
at York, Pennsylvania, a friendly letter, and received the following
reply:—“Cousin, I can hardly call you dear cousin, for were I in the
Union army you might have shot me if you would have had the chance,
which I do think you would do if you get the chance; so as it is your
thoughts to kill all Northern men that you can, relation or not,
and which I do think it is a shame for you to do, being as all your
relations lives in the North, and are all Union people, so far as I
know of, which place I seen yesterday you was born in twenty years ago,
and eighty years ago your grand father fought for the glorious country,
and now you want to turn right around to drive it to nothing at the
point of the bayonet, which I do think that you are doing wrong. Had I
a hold of you I know I would make you git—if you was pressed into it I
can forgive you, but if you fight against this country free-hearted I
can’t forgive you, and don’t fear you neither. It is right that they
have taken you a prisoner, and I hope they will deal with you as they
ought, being as they have you, and all such friends and relations as
I have in the rebel army, if there are more of them. I hope in some
future day you may see how wrong you have done to trample down that
banner which waves over once so glorious a country as this. Now, as
a rebel, you want to destroy it. Shame on you as a Christian, as you
wanted to be in days gone by. I still thought you had more respect for
this country than you show for up to this time. Think of this letter
whenever you write to me—think that you are writing to a Union cousin,
_which has more sense in his big toe than you have in your head_. For
me to come to see you is impossible for me to do. If you was there,
and I knowed you was doing write, I might come, but so I cannot; and
you must think hard of me for writing such a letter to you, for I have
no sympathy for a man that will do such a villainous act as you have
done to this country. If you had any thoughts for yourself and your
relations you might have got out of that rascally rebel army as well
as you have got into it. Your relations that you enquire about are all
well. If I had Jeff Davis, and you together, I would hang both of you.
So now you can do as you please; you can write, or leave it alone; but
that is what I think of you. If you write, tell me where your father is.