were marched out. All the other blocks were visited without any discoveries being made. The guard was then formed in line for inspection. The Lieutenant in command, examining the accoutrements of the men, discovered that Charlie had no cartridge box, when the following dialogue took place:
Lieutenant of the Guard—How is it, sir, that you have no cartridge box?
Charlie—Well, Lieutenant, we fell in outside in such a hurry, I declare I forgot it.
Lieutenant—Well, you are a fine soldier! no cartridge box! Suppose the Rebels were to attack us while we are in here among them? Let me see your gun, sir!
Then the Lieutenant proceeded to an inspection of arms, still upbraiding the delinquent soldier.
Charlie seeing this his last effort was defeated, straightened himself, brought his gun to "inspection arms," in true military style, and passed it to the officer. Of course, its weight told the tale. The ruse was discovered, and by neglecting the cartridge-box, the easiest of all to make, our hero was again defeated in his plans. By permission of the Lieutenant, however, he was allowed to make the experiment of passing the sentinel at the gate, which he did without eliciting any surprise. He was then taken before Colonel Charles W. Hill, of the 112th Ohio, then commandant of the prison at Johnson's Island, who showed himself a humane and considerate officer, and who frankly admitted the prisoner's right to attempt to escape, complimented him on his courage and strategy, and condemned him to no other puishment than the removal of his disguises and his money, but insisted on keeping his gun, which he deemed a fit trophy to be placed among the archives of the State of Ohio, where it is at present.
Charlie was then sent back to his quarters to brood in sorrow over his several failures, notwithstanding the indomitable courage, the strategy, the energy and the patience with which he prosecuted them. So confident was his comrades that he had been successful in this last attempt, that they prepared his bunk to lead the sentinel to believe that he was still there, and were ready to vouch for his sickness at roll-call the following morning. But vain hope, when roll-call came, the intrepid Pierce was there to answer for himself, and there he remained until paroled with the others at the close of the war.
Arriving at his home in New Orleans, like all true soldiers, he
