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ities, but the very severe treatment to which I was afterwards subjected so far threw them into the shade that they have escaped my memory. I must not omit a statement about food. At Camp Chase my rations were of a good quality and sufficient. At Johnson's Island they were not so good nor near so plentiful, though sufficient to keep a man in good health. While at Johnson's Island, I made two attempts to escape. My first attempt was in December. Six of us started a tunnel from under one of the buildings, with the intention of coming to the surface outside of the pen surrounding the prison. Our intention then was to swim to the nearest point of mainland, about a quarter of a mile distant, and then make across the country for the South. We had with infinite labor, during three or four nights, made a considerable hole, and were in high spirits at the prospect, when one night there came a tremendous rain, which caved in our tunnel and blasted our hopes for that time. My next attempt was on the 2d of January, 1864, during the intensely cold weather. I succeeded in getting to the fence where the sentinel was posted, but the guard was so vigilant it was impossible to get over. I lay by the fence until nearly frozen. The moon shone out brightly, and I had to run for my life. In the beginning of spring an exchange of sick and disabled prisoners was agreed upon between the two Governments. I had been very unwell for some three months. Accordingly I went before the board of physicians, which decided I was a fit subject for exchange. On the 26th of April, in company with one hundred and forty sick, I left Johnson's Island, fully believing that in a few days I would be once more in dear old Dixie. We traveled by rail to Baltimore, thence we went by steamer to Point Lookout. Here I drank to the dregs the cup of "Hope deferred that maketh the heart sick." Every few days we were told we would certainly leave for the South by the next boat—once all of us were actually called up to sign the parole not to take up arms, etc., until regularly exchanged—but the order was countermanded before one-third of us had signed the roll. I never before nor since felt so sick at heart as then. My disappointments of the same character have been many, but that overstepped them all. All faith in the truth of any Government official was then shattered forever. The greater part of my time at Point Lookout was passed in the hospital, where I was very well treated. The sick were not closely guarded, and had the privilege of the whole Point. It was no small consolation to sit for hours on the beach, the fresh breeze blowing in your face, the free waters rolling endless before you (moodful as nature's own child, sparkling with infinite lustre in the sunshine of a calm day, kissing with a soft murmur of welcome the gentle breeze or struggling with an angry roar in the embrace of the tempest), and miles distant was the Virginia shore, and I have often thought I might claim a kindred feeling with the prophet viewing from Pisgah the land he might not reach. About the middle of May the hospital was crowded with wounded