Fort Delaware. A gloom too deep for even the ghost of hope to enter was upon my spirits. I noticed little and cared less. Upon reaching Fort Delaware seventy-five of our number were carried to the prison hospital, and had there been room many more would have gone. We were marched into the same place we had left more than six months before. I had no idea what a miserable looking set of men we were until contrasted with the Fort Delaware prisoners—our old companions. I thought they were the fattest, best dressed set of men I had ever seen. That they looked thus to me, will excite no surprise when I describe my own appearance. A flannel shirt, low in the neck, was my only under-garment. An old overcoat, once white, was doing duty as shirt, coat and vest; part of an old handkerchief tied around my head served as a hat; breeches I had none—an antiquated pair of red flannel drawers endeavored, but with small success, to fill their place. I was very thin and poor and was lame, scurvy having drawn the muscles of my right leg. When I add that I was in better condition, both in flesh and dress than many of our crowd, some idea can be formed of the appearance we made. The prisoners came to our rescue, gave us clothes, subscribed money, and bought vegetables for us. For a long time after our arrival, whenever any one was about to throw away an old crumb or piece of meat or worn out garment, some bystander would call out: "Don't throw that away, give it to some of the poor Pulaski prisoners." The fall of Richmond, Lee's surrender, and, finally, the capitulation of Johnston's army, soon swept from us every hope of a Southern Confederacy. But one course remained, viz: swear allegiance to the Government in whose power we were. Upon doing this, I was released on the 13th of June, 1865.
We next give the following extract from a private letter, written August 4th, 1865, from Great Barrington, Massachusetts, by a Confederate officer, to a lady of Richmond, the full truth of which can be abundantly attested:
I was captured on Tuesday, the 4th of April, near evening. Some four hundred or more, that had been collected during the day, were marched a few miles and stowed away for the night in a small tobacco barn. The next morning we were told that if we could find any meat on the remains of three slaughtered cattle (that had already been closely cut from) we were welcome. No bread or salt was offered, yet it could be had for money. From Tuesday till Friday all that I had given me to eat was two ears of musty corn and four crackers! During that time we were exposed to the rain, which was continued for days. We were marched through mud and water to City Point, a distance of near one hundred miles by the route taken. The first sustaining food I received was from Mrs. Marable, at Petersburg, and I shall ever feel grateful to her for it. We arrived at Point Lookout at night, and
