rossed the door, and left me. Never
before had I been locked up as a prisoner, and now it was no trivial
matter--a few days or weeks. There was absolutely no hope ahead. I was
there as a criminal, and too well did I realize the character of the
Southern people, to believe that they would be fastidious about proof.
Life is held too cheap in that country to cause them a long delay in
its disposal.

In that hour, my most distressing thought was of my friends at home,
and particularly of my mother--thinking what would be their sorrow
when they heard of my ignominious fate--if indeed they ever heard, for
I had given an assumed name. That all my young hopes and ambitions, my
fond dreams of being useful, should perish, as I then had no doubt
they would, on a Southern scaffold, seemed unbearable in the extreme.
But only one moment did these thoughts sweep over me; the next they
were rejected as not calculated to profit in the least. My first
action was to borrow from my Union companion his blankets, of which he
had a plentiful supply, and wrap myself in them. The warmth they
produced soon threw me into a deep sleep,--profound and
dreamless,--such as only extreme fatigue can afford.

I awoke hours after, feeling much refreshed, but did not at first
realize where I was; yet a glance at the woven bars which everywhere
bounded me in, brought back the knowledge that I was a prisoner; but I
did not give way to useless despair. I was almost amused at the
quaint, yet truthful remark my fellow-prisoner made to me. Said he:

"If you are innocent of the charge they have against you, there is no
hope for you. But if it is true, you may save yourself by telling
what regiment and company you belong to, and claiming protection as a
United States prisoner of war."

I thought a good deal over this opinion, and became more and more
impressed with its wisdom. It contained a truth that I could not
gainsay. To hang a poor stranger in the South would be a common-place
affair--only what was often done by the Southerners before the war
began. In fact, they did kill a man at Dalton, under circumstances of
the greatest cruelty, because he cheered as we dashed through the
town. Afterward they found out that the man was as good a rebel as any
of them, and had merely cheered because he thought we, too, were
rebels; then they set the matter right by apologizing to his friends!

It was quite different in the case of our soldiers. If they were
murdered,