upon all of us at the same moment, a suspicion that this was a trap to
delude us into signing the Non-Combatant's Oath. Instantly there went up
a general shout:

"Read the parole to us."

The Rebel was handed a blank parole by a companion, and he read over the
printed condition at the top, which was that those signing agreed not to
bear arms against the Confederates in the field, or in garrison, not to
man any works, assist in any expedition, do any sort of guard duty, serve
in any military constabulary, or perform any kind of military service
until properly exchanged.

For a minute this was satisfactory; then their ingrained distrust of any
thing a Rebel said or did returned, and they shouted:

"No, no; let some of us read it; let Ilinoy' read it--"

The Rebel looked around in a puzzled manner.

"Who the h--l is 'Illinoy!' Where is he?" said he.

I saluted and said:

"That's a nickname they give me."

"Very well," said he, "get up on this stump and read this parole to these
d---d fools that won't believe me."

I mounted the stump, took the blank from his hand and read it over
slowly, giving as much emphasis as possible to the all-important clause
at the end--"until properly exchanged." I then said:

"Boys, this seems all right to me," and they answered, with almost one
voice:

"Yes, that's all right. We'll sign that."

I was never so proud of the American soldier-boy as at that moment. They
all felt that signing that paper was to give them freedom and life. They
knew too well from sad experience what the alternative was. Many felt
that unless released another week would see them in their graves. All
knew that every day's stay in Rebel hands greatly lessened their chances
of life. Yet in all that thousand there was not one voice in favor of
yielding a tittle of honor to save life. They would secure their freedom
honorably, or die faithfully. Remember that this was a miscellaneous
crowd of boys, gathered from all sections of the country, and from many
of whom no exalted conceptions of duty and honor were expected. I wish
some one would point out to me, on the brightest pages of knightly
record, some deed of fealty and truth that equals the simple fidelity of
these unknown heros. I do not think that one of them felt that he was
doing anything especially meritorious. He only obeyed the natural
promptings of his loyal heart.

The business of signing the paroles was then begun in earnest. We w