hours." He asked who gave
them to me. Well, that I knew nothing about, as I was asleep and
supposed that Beauty had left them for me. He took away the plate and
went after Beauty. My German sailor friend was not found out, but the
chasm between Dirty Stockings and myself was greatly widened.

I soon became convalescent. A reb with a loaded musket escorted me back
to my old quarters in the jail. My fellow-prisoners gave me a cordial
reception. It was at one time thought by them that I would remain
permanently in the South. All monotony in our prison life was now over.
Exciting news was heard every day. Sherman's army was marching through
Georgia. The rebs were drawing our troops away from their base of
supplies. All the "invading hirelings" were to be killed, gobbled up,
and other dire calamities were to befall them. Wheeler's cavalry went
howling through Columbia on their way to annihilate Sherman's "bummers."
The citizens cheered, and the ladies waved their handkerchiefs and
threw kisses at them. Those fellows were going to raise ---- sure
enough. We had a good view of the whole proceeding from our window. A
few cat-calls were given by us to help along the excitement. Not many
weeks afterward that same cavalry went through Columbia again, but their
noses were pointed in the opposite direction, with Sherman's cavalry not
many miles in the rear. Those gallant defenders of the South looted all
the stores on Main Street, and carried all they could conveniently get
away with. No ladies threw kisses at them that time.

The Yankee officers confined in Libby Prison were removed to Charleston
and placed under the fire of the Federal guns in hopes that the shelling
of the city would be stopped. Through some means, the locality in which
the prisoners were confined was made known to the Union troops,
consequently none were killed. Several changes of localities were made,
always with the same result. Finally the rebel provost-marshal and
several of his guards were killed by Yankee shells, and then the
prisoners were all sent to Columbia and confined in a stockade on the
other side of the river--"Camp Sorghum," as it was christened by the
Yankees. The prisoners at Andersonville were hastily sent to different
parts of the Confederacy to keep them out of reach of Sherman's troops.

"Gentlemen, there will arrive this evening one hundred and seventeen
Yankee officers, and arrangements will have to be made for them to share
your quart