were the cause of a whole barrack of men being mounted on a horse or punished in other ways. Sometimes a guard would come in, and swear he heard some one whispering. He would make four or five men get up, with nothing but their underclothes to protect them against a climate where the thermometer stood twenty degrees below zero. Shooting about this time was less frequent. The fiends were satisfied with such punishment as would most likely end in death. At this period we were reinforced by the prisoners captured in front of Nashville. They, after being cooped up in the cars four or five days, were nearly dead for water. The hydrants were frozen up, and we had eaten all the snow inside the prison. The poor fellows would lay down at or as close to the dead-line as possible, and reach their arm through and pull the snow to them. I saw one of the guards standing twenty-five steps from a prisoner thus engaged shoot at him three times. Fortunately the police guards were armed with pistols; had it been a rifle the poor fellow must have died the first shot.
Think of a man's mind being racked by all of these punishments, for the innocent suffered as well as the guilty, and as frequently, when no one was to blame, were all punished; and it is almost a miracle that anyone should have remained there twenty months without losing his reason.
Company E, Duke's Regiment, Second Kentucky Cavalry, General J. H. Morgan's command.
Sworn to before me this third day of March, 1876.
Notary Public in and for San Bernardino county, State of California.
The following statement of Major Robert Stiles of Richmond, Virginia, will be received by his large circle of friends and acquaintances as the testimony of a gentleman "without fear and without reproach."
STATEMENT OF MAJOR ROBERT STILES.
I was a prisoner of war at Johnson's Island and Fort Lafayette from April to October, 1865, having been captured at Sailor's creek. During this time I did not suffer seriously to my own person from bad treatment, but saw and heard no little of the suffering of others.
The Southern field officers were released from Johnson's Island in May or June, but I was held a prisoner because I declined to take the somewhat remarkable oath propounded to us, and refused to give in addition my word of honor that I would say nothing against the Government of the United States.
At Johnson's Island all the formidable nomenclature and enginery of prison discipline were in vogue. We had our "dead line" within and up some distance from the tall fence which formed "the pen,"
