shoot at them. Our rations were issued in manner and quantity as follows: The sergeant came around to each tent with a box of hard biscuit, issued to each prisoner three, generally, sometimes two, sometimes one and a half. Towards the last of our stay five were issued, which last was the number allowed by the authorities. The sergeant next came around with a box of small pieces of meat, about the width and length of two fingers. One of them was given to each man. This was breakfast. At dinner time the sergeant went around with a barrel of pea soup—gave each man from one-third to half a pint. Supper was marked by the issue of a little, mush or rice. This, too, was brought around in a barrel. I have before spoken of the lively nature of the bread. Any one who had not seen it would hardly credit the amount of dead animal matter in the shape of white worms, which was in the mush given us. For my own part, I was always too hungry to be dainty—worms, mush and all went to satisfy the cravings of nature. But I knew of several persons, who, attempting to pick them out, having thrown out from fifty to eighty, stopped picking them out, not because the worms were all gone, but because the little bit of mush was going with them.
While at Morris' Island we considered ourselves in much more danger from the guns of the guard than from our batteries. The negroes were thick-headed, and apt to go beyond their orders, or misunderstand. They were, therefore, very dangerous. Fortunately they were miserable shots, else several men would have been killed who really were not touched. A sutler was permitted to come in once a week to sell tobacco, stationery, molasses, cakes, etc., to those who had money. Inside the enclosure and all around the tents was a rope: this was the "Dead Line." To go beyond, or even to touch this rope, was death—that is, if the sentinel could hit you. When the sutler came in we were ordered to form in two ranks, faced by the flank towards the "Dead Line." Every new comer had to fall in behind, and await his turn. On one occasion, one of our number, either not knowing or having forgotten the order, walked up to the "Dead Line" on the flank of the line of men. He was not more than five yards from a sentinel. An officer was standing by the sentinel, and ordered him to fire, which he did, and wonderful to say, missed not only the man at whom he shot, but the entire line. The officer then pulled his pistol, and fired it at the prisoner. He also missed. The prisoner, not liking a position where all the firing was on one side, then made good his retreat to his tent.
Our authorities in Charleston and the Yankee authorities on the island exchanged a boat load of provisions, tobacco, etc., for their respective prisoners. Bread, potatoes, meat, and both smoking and chewing tobacco, were sent us by the Charleston ladies. Never was anything more enjoyed, and never, I reckon, were men more thankful. I had as much as I could eat for once, even on Morris' Island. All the prisoners seemed to squirt out tobacco juice, and
