an
obtain almost anything by paying about twice its cost; but the privilege
of having meals sent in, is not lightly valued by those who have once
done battle with the boiled leather, called ration beef, contests in
which passive resistance generally prevails.

The barred window of No. 20 looks out on the narrow yard wherein
ordinary captives are allowed to disport themselves for three half-hours
daily. It is a very motley crowd. There are no Confederate soldiers
here; all these are confined in the Old Capitol; but of every other
class you may see specimens.

I will try one or two sketches. It used to amuse me to guess at the
profession of a captive from outward signs, and, after a little
practice, one is rarely wrong.

Those three, talking together apart, and gesticulating so vehemently,
with the Hebrew stamp on every line of their dark, keen faces, are
blockade-runners: they bewail their captivity more loudly than their
fellows; but, be sure, they will wriggle out, soonest of all, if freedom
can be purchased by hard swearing or gold. The profits of a single
successful venture are simply fabulous; the smugglers are frequently
captured with dollars on their persons by tens of thousands: they will
part readily with a share of the plunder to any accommodating official,
sooner than lose valuable time here; and, as for the oath, they swallow
it without a pretense at reluctance.

That group, with wild beards and long unkempt hair, clad in rough
garments of every shade, from "butternut" to hodden gray, come evidently
from the far uplands of Virginia. Looking at those rough-hewn faces and
fierce eyes, you can easily believe that such men are not careful to
dissemble their sympathies, and would not lightly forget an injury; the
chastisement of this paternal Government will change sullen disaffection
into savage animosity; they will all be sent South in time, and "it's a
free fight there." I fancy one or two of those yeomen will see the color
of Yankee blood, before they see the old homestead again.

That pale Judas face, with scanty, hircine beard, and an expression
changing often from spiteful to cunning, could belong only to a Yankee
paymaster or commissary, detected in his frauds before he had made up a
pile high enough to defy justice; for swindler is not _quite_ safe till
he is nearly a "milliner." (So, was my comrade wont to pronounce
millionaire.) Such cases occur daily, and the unity of shabbiness here
is always di