d among them one
of those who had tied me down, telling me what I had already suffered
was nothing to what I must yet suffer unless I yielded; that human flesh
could not endure what they would put upon me. I wondered if it could be
that they could force me to obedience by torture, and examined myself
closely to see if they had advanced as yet one step toward the
accomplishment of their purposes. Though weaker in body, I believed I
found myself, through divine strength, as firm in my resolution to
maintain my allegiance to my Master.

The relaxation of my nerves and muscles after having been so tensely
strained left me that afternoon so weak that I could hardly walk or
perform any mental exertion.

I had not yet eaten the mean and scanty breakfast I had prepared, when I
was ordered to pack up my things and report myself at the lieutenant's
tent. I was accustomed to such orders and complied, little moved.

The lieutenant received me politely with, "Good-morning, Mr. Pringle,"
and desiring me to be seated, proceeded with the writing with which he
was engaged. I sat down in some wonderment and sought to be quiet and
prepared for any event.

"You are ordered to report to Washington," said he; "I do not know what
it is for." I assured him that neither did I know. We were gathered
before the Major's tent for preparation for departure. The regimental
officers were there manifesting surprise and chagrin; for they could not
but show both as they looked upon us, whom the day before they were
threatening to crush into submission, and attempting also to execute
their threats that morning, standing out of their power and under orders
from one superior to their Major Commanding E.M. As the bird uncaged,
so were our hearts that morning. Short and uncertain at first were the
flights of Hope. As the slave many times before us, leaving his yoke
behind him, turned from the plantations of Virginia and set his face
toward the far North, so we from out a grasp as close and as abundant in
suffering and severity, and from without the line of bayonets that had
so many weeks surrounded us, turned our backs upon the camp of the 4th
Vermont and took our way over the turnpike that ran through the tented
fields of Culpeper.

At the War Office we were soon admitted to an audience with the Adjutant
General, Colonel Townsend, whom we found to be a very fine man, mild and
kind. He referred our cases to the Secretary of War, Stanton, by whom we
were