riding the other. Remember that a guard with a loaded gun stood by and directed this work done just this way, while there was plenty of the sand beach and plenty of labor and time, and no excuse save villany. Some days we would have 5 or 6, and some days 15 or 20. The bodies were put in rough plank boxes with drawers and shirt on only. No other clothing was ever on them. Several years ago when Congress was talking about putting tombstones up at the graves of Confederates who had died in prison, I wrote our Congressman, Mr. B. L. Henry, that he have the bill fixed so they should put two tombstones to each grave at Fort Delaware, as there were two in each grave, but of course Henry did not have the courage to do this, and it was not done. Now, Joe Bailey might have done a thing like this just for the advertisement it woud have given him,

but I did not think about this then. C. J. JACKSON.

Nolanville, Texas.

federate said: "Major, I am your prisoner." He was tried, condemned as a spy, and ordered shot or hung, whichever was the verdict of the court marshal. Our guide told us that the U. S. officers, knowing all the facts, refused to put the sentence into execution.

I afterwards heard that when Col. Porter's regiment was ordered to the front, the next regiment's officers left a door open, and the Confederate escaped.

If any of your readers have a knowledge of this case, I would like to hear what became of this Johnnie Reb. Col. Porter was killed at Cold Harbor in June and six of his men lost their lives in trying to rescue the body. Very sincerely,

Philadelphia, Pa.

EDW'D S. LONG.

The Last Charge at Appomattox Court House, Va., April 9th, 1865

On Sunday morning, April 9, 1865, Gen. John B. Gordon formed his hitherto victorious Legion for the last

War Romance?

Dear Sirs: Perhaps some of your readers may be able to further fill out a story that came to my notice say April, 1864. I, with a friend, made a visit to Fort McHenry, Md., and called on Col. P. A. Porter, 8th New York heavy artillery, then stationed at the fort. Col. P. was busy, but he sent a young officer to show us around. This he did very nicely.

We noticed a fine looking Confederate prisoner, who was exercising under guard. Our escort gave us a scrap of his history; i. e., this Confederate was in love with a girl inside of the Federal lines. There was also a major in the U. S. army who was very much smitten with this girl. The Confederate was in citizen's dress on a visit to the girl, and he walked right into the hands of the Federal officer. The Con

cold and chilly and we reached the village about midnight, when we halted on the court house square, built fires and remained until day. We then re-formed, marched out of Appomattox in a southwesterly direction, passing Carter's, Starke's and Poagues' battalions Confederate artillery in position and then firing at the long lines of Sheridan's blue columns, which had come up the night before and thrown themselves across our only avenue of escape. Gen. Gordon was commanding the Second, or Stonewall Jackson's old corps, Gen. C. A. Evans, Gordon's old division. Col. John L. Lowe was commanding Evans' old brigade, the following regiments composing it: 13th Ga., 26th Ga., 31st Ga., 38th Ga., 60th Ga., 61st Ga. and 12th Ga. Battalion, and Capt. Keigler's battalion sharpshooters, 20 men and two officers. Lts. Hogan and Gwynn. Since the war Gwynn was elected sheriff of

Pike County and was killed by the Deeks.

Our thin line was now advancing rapidly and the continued roar of Carter's, Stark's and Poagues' guns seemed to indicate that we would drive all opposition from our front and escape.

Our hope of success was short lived, for suddenly there appeared a long line of blue infantry moving down on the right, with fixed bayonets and flags gaily flying in the morning breeze. Gen. Evans came riding down his thin line watching the Federal infantry as they advanced until he came opposite Kaigier's battalion sharpshooters, when he ordered them to deploy and charge. The idea of this battalion, 26 men and three officers, charging an army corps and them flushed with victory, none but Gens. Gordon or Evans would have thought of, and I am sure no men but those who had followed Lee, Johnston and Jackson would have complied.

Soon the roar of musketry told us that Kaigler had attacked as that good soldier knew how. The Federal line now seemed to halt and Kaigler was now returning with 71 prisoners who had surrendered. Lieut. Hogan of that gallant band, was cool in the charge, having been on all the battlefields of the Civil War that his command was engaged.

We formed another line along the road east of the village and Gen. Geo. A. Custer, commanding United States cavalry, rode into our line in a few feet of the water and asked to see some general officer in the Confederate army. He was directed to Gen. Gordon. We We soon had orders to uncap our guns, march out into the field and stack arms. We remained at Appomattox Court House from the 9th of April until the 12th, all the terms of the surrender having been agreed on. Gen. John Gibbons' division of 3rd corps, U. S. A., was drawn up on the north side of the public road east of the village to receive our surrender.

Gen. Chamberlain commanding the 1st brigade, as we came opposite, ordered his men to present arms, the highest compliment from the victor to his defeated foe.

We halted, stacked arms, furled our banner that we carried from the beginning to the end. We received our paroles on the 13th, and then commenced the long tedious march homeward to find this once happy land a wilderness, made so by Sherman in his march to the sea. The writer with four of his company reached Atlanta, Ga., on April 24th, the first of Lee's army to arrive.

"Parole of Sergeant F. L. Hudgins. Appomattox Court House, Virginia, April 10th, 1865. The bearer, F. L. Hudgins, Sergeant of Co. K, 38th regiment Ga. volunteers, a paroled prisoner of the army of Northern Virginia, has permission to go to his home and there remain undisturbed.

P. E. DAVANT, Lt. Col. Com'dg."
Georgia.
F. L. HUDGINS.

Prison Life (CONCLUDED.)

While sailing around the dangerous and treacherous rock-bound coast of Cape Hatteras, N. C., we encountered a violent wind storm, threatening to drive us upon the rocks of Hatteras, and the Captan of our old ship, in his efforts to avoid shipwreck, under a heavy head of steam steered for mid-ocean. But the large boiler of our old ship cracked, and in a few minutes the old hull was filled with dense steam from boiling water.

As it escaped through the large crack of the boiler, we were steamed, stifled and almost cooked in this deluge of heat. At this critical moment, Comrade McGee, color bearer of the 10th S. Ga. Reg., and who had lost a leg in one of Lee's battles, climbed up the ladder, together with two other comrades, to the upper deck, but were immediately driven back by the Captain of the ship.

But, having gotten a few breaths of pure refreshing air, he more fully appreciated our dire condition, and upon reaching the bottom of the ladder, he said: "Boys, we cannot stand this hot steam. Now who will go with me upon the upper deck and hold it or die, rather than die like cowards down here?" He at once re-climbed the ladder, followed by six more and myself, seven in all.

Upon reaching the upper deck, we sprawled down upon it, as it was difficult to stand, the sea being rough from the storm. For a few minutes the Captain (who was up in the pilot house, scanning the ocean with a telescope, looking for a passing ship, that might succor him, for his ship was now completely at the mercy of the winds) did not see us. But as soon as he did he peremptorily ordered us back. McGee remonstrated with him, called his attention to the dense column of white steam, rising through the hatch door, and insisted that no one could breathe it and live.

In answer to this remonstrance the Captain rang a bell, which was at once. answered by an errand boy, through whom he ordered a sergeant to report immediately to him, with six men, loaded guns and fixed bayonets. His orders were easily heard by us, as we were not more than ten feet from him.

McGee quickly jumped up and said: "Boys, you hear that. Now I want to take a vote. All who are willing to hold this deck, if it cost them their lives, stand up." Every man sprang to his feet. "Now boys, how many have pocket knives?" All pulled out old knives. "Now boys, open them and line up across the deck, so that one ball can't kill two men.” We lined up across the deck, with McGee in the center. The sergeant and his six men had not yet come. McGee (on his one leg, without stick or crutch, for he could hop like a jay-bird) hopped out and faced us. "Now," he said, "boys, I am going to take another vote, Pretty soon those

soldiers will be here, and if any of you think you can't stand those loaded guns with fixed bayonets, and will creep back in that old hull, go now, but I am going to stand if I stand alone." No man moved to go back. "Now," said he, "all who will stand and fight to the death, hold up your right hands." Every hand shot up with opened knife. McGee then hopped back to his place in line. The old captain, as sullen as an Indian, saw and heard every word spoken. Now the soldiers, with glittering guns and bayonets, marched along the cabin room, and the sergeant saluted the old captain. He returned the salute and ordered the sergeant to put those men back in the hull of the ship, at the point of the bayonet if necessary. The sergeant quickly lined his men in our front, about 12 feet distant. At this critical moment, McKee hopped in front, about 4 feet, and made a most stirring appeal to these soldiers. I wish I could repeat his eloquent and matchless appeal, but he told these soldiers that we were paroled prisoners, going home, the war being over, to engage in the peaceful pursuits of life; recounted the kind treatment we had received from the old soldiers of the line, called their attention to the dense column of steam issuing up through the hatch door, from boiling water in the boiler, that no one could breathe it and live. That instead of driving us back, as we had a number of sick men, down in the hull, they ought to be brought out, for they too were being steamed to death. "But," said he, "if you attempt to execute the orders of that infernal wretch," pointing his knife at the old captain, "we propose to renew the war upon the deck of this vessel, and if you do not kill us all at first fire, we will cut you to pieces with our knives." Then facing the old Captain, with clenched teeth and fist, said: "Yes, damn you, we will limb you limb by limb, sir" and his voice roared like a lion. Having made this appeal, he wheeled and hopped back in line and

faced the soldiers, as if to say: "Now, do what you are going to do quickly." There we stood, defiantly eyeing the soldiers, and they eyeing us. Not a move, not a word was spoken for a full minute, when the old Captain broke the silence by ordering the sergeant and his men back to their quarters, giving the victory to us, without a shot. Then we at once set about to bring our comrades out of that old hull, seething with hot steam. But there were only three of us who were able to render assistance. Indeed, I was the only well man. So down the ladder we went, and called to our comrades to go on deck. We assisted all who could help themselves up the ladder. There were five left, who were so exhausted that they had to be shouldered and carried up the ladder. My two assistants carried up one apiece, but sorrowfully told me they could do no more. So I carried up three, the last one dying on my shoulder, about half way up the ladder.

I laid his lifeless form gently upon the upper deck. I found myself completely prostrated from the steam, notwithstanding I had been able to get a few good breaths of air, each time I came up. I had the hardest ordeal yet to face. Some of our comrades thought one of our boys had gone to the stern end of the ship, beyond the boiler, hoping to escape the steam, which was drawn to the bow of the ship by the hatch door. As soon as I could, I again descended the ladder and began my search for this man. It was so dark, I could see nothing, so to go beyond the boiler, and not run against it, I put my hand against the side of the vessel to guide me as I passed the boiler, which was in the center of the hull about 50 feet from stern. When I got opposite the boiler, the hot steam, hissing like 10,000 rattlesnakes, was so oppressive, I hastened back with all possible speed, and climbed the ladder, to revive myself with fresh, pure air. I only tarried a few seconds, when, filling my lungs

with fresh air, I again descended, running faster, and as before, to the extreme end at the stern, determined to find my comrade, and rescue him if possilbe; but feeling along the sides of the vessel, making a thorough search, I could not find him; and if I had, I could not have rescued him.

I grew faint, and had to reason with myself like a philosopher. I must run the gauntlet of that boiler, before my strength collapsed, or die. So gathering my strength and courage, I guided myself to the side of the wall, as before, and made my life's race for the ladder at the other end of the ship, which I thought was about 200 or 250 feet long. I succeeded in reaching and climbing the ladder, and almost fainted. found that three of our comrades whom we had carried up the ladder were dead. Altogether this incident was the most thrilling and shocking experience of my life.

I

This took place in full view of that wretch of a captain and he seemed unmoved at the sight of it. A relentless, mad look was upon his face, and if he could have saved himself, I believe he would have sunk the ship. He still sat up in the pilot house, telescope in hand, surveying the horizon of the ocean, watching for a passing ship. He had already hoisted a flag of distress at the top of the mast. The waves were rolling high, and everything looked to us very squally. The wind storm waxed more furious, the waves appeared to be at least 30 feet high, and as the old ship would ride the billows, we would slide across the floor of the deck, like a brick on a house top, and had to clutch the railing around the deck.

But to take up the thread of my story again, I will briefly describe the burial of my dead comrades. One of the ship's crew brought a long, broad plank, which was placed over the top of the railing on the outer edge of the deck. Tenderly wrapping a blanket around them, we gently laid them upon the

plank across the railing, then raising the inside end of the plank, with loving hearts and a secret prayer we consigned their bodies to a watery grave and their spirits to God.

The storm passed, the waters were still, and we enjoyed the fruits of our victory, which were the exhilirating ef

fects of the salt water breeze and the wonderful and varied sights of ocean. novelties.

In due time, though it seemed an age to us, we boarded our same old ship, but held the upper deck, and sailed to Charleston, and then to Savannah, Ga., where we got off and stayed in that city a week, waiting for repairs on a river steamer running to Augusta; but too impatient to wait longer, we, (reduced

to Jno. Morel of Effingham Co. and myself), took up our line of march, as far as his home, about 30 miles; as he was taken sick upon reaching home, I stayed with and nursed him, which was a very pleasant duty, as he had two pretty sisters who helped me. But on the third day he was better, and my desire to see mother and father caused me to resume my journey, alone now, to Waynesborough, 2 1-4 days' march. Here I boarded a train to Thomson, walked out to old Uncle Johnnie Butler's, got a horse and saddle from him, and rode to my home in Lincoln Co. I would have walked home, but my feet were too sore. I arrived home on the night of July 3rd, about 12 o'clock, 1865. Respectfully,

A. E. STROTHER.

Oh, the jasmines, pinks and roses,
How they bloom!

They are sweet to eyes and noses,
And the gloom?

Why, they've swept it all asunder,
And I wake entranced in wonder—
Sweet perfume!

Oh, the mocking-birds of Eden! Where are they?

Here they are with music laden, Come to stay;

Paradise here opes her portals, And the joy is for we mortals Night and day.