was of the number. Colonel Hinton inquired of me, "what is the matter?" "I suppose we are to be punished as accessories to the murder of Abe Lincoln," I replied. "Schoepff has ordered every man that can walk from the hospital to the barracks. He evidently regards us as accomplices of Wilkes Booth," said the Colonel. Many who were quite sick—some of the scurvy afflicted among them—hobbled slowly and painfully out of their wards, and the long, cold hall was soon crowded with the sick, the lame and the halt. Such a rigid course is senseless and cruel. It shows weakness, cowardice and malice. Courage and humanity accompany each other; cowardice and cruelty are comrades. After alternately standing and sitting on the floor for hours, the gate of the dreaded barracks was opened, and we were again ushered into the prison proper.
"A prison, heavens, I loathe the hated name,
Famine's metropolis, —— the sink of shame,
A nauseous sepulchre ——, whose craving womb
Hourly inters poor mortals in its tomb."
The plank walk near and space in front of the gate were filled with anxious and curious Confederate officers, who eagerly asked the news. No papers had been allowed them during the day. I headed the long procession, and repeated, as I walked, "Abe Lincoln was killed last night." The news spread like wildfire, and a few thoughtless fellows seemed overjoyed at it, throwing up their hats, dancing, jumping, and even shouting aloud. Their imprudence caused General Schoepff to order his guards to fire upon any Rebel manifesting pleasure at the news, and he actually had the huge guns of the fort turned frowningly toward us. A large majority of the prisoners regret Lincoln's death, and in the wonderful charity which buries all quarrels in the grave, the dead President was no longer regarded as an enemy, for, with the noble generosity native to Southern character, all resentment was hidden in his death. My copy of the Inquirer was in great demand, was borrowed by officers in different divisions, and the astounding particulars of Lincoln's terrible death were read and reread to crowds of officers, all eager to drink in every word of the startling account. I occupied my old quarters in twenty-seven, with Captain Hewlett as my bunkmate. My friends welcome my return very cordially.
April 16th to 19th—Most of the officers are greatly discouraged, and have given up all hope of the success of our cause. I still have hope from the Southern Fabius, General Joseph Johnston.
