rt intervals to keep them back and
preserve the lines, and sentries march up and down the entire length of
the station challenging the approach of any one who desires to pass
along the platform. For a distance of about one hundred feet to the
railroad signal tower are piled barrels of flour, boxes of provisions,
and supplies of all descriptions. Under the shed of the station an
incongruous collection of clothing is being arranged to allow of
convenient distribution. While they waited for the signal to commence
operations, a guard entered into conversation with a woman in the line.
She was evidently telling a story of distress, for the guard looked
about hastily to a spot where canned meats and bread were located and
made a movement as if to obtain a supply for the woman, but the eyes of
brother soldiers and a superior officer were upon him and he again
assumed his position. It is said to be not unusual for the soldiers,
under cover of dusk, to overstep their duty in order to serve some
applicant who, through age or lack of physical strength, is poorly
equipped to bear the strain. All sorts of provisions are asked for. One
woman asks boldly for ham, canned chicken, vegetables and flour. Another
approaches timidly and would be glad to have a few loaves of bread and a
little coffee.

No Discrimination.

Before complete system was introduced complaint was made of
discrimination by those dealing out supplies, but under the present
order of things the endeavor is made to treat everybody impartially.
Provisions are given out in order, so that imposition is avoided. It
would seem that there could be no imposition in any case, however. The
people who are here, and who are able to get within the lines at all,
have a reason for their presence, and this is not curiosity. They are
here for anything but entertainment, and there is no possibility of
purchasing supplies. All must needs apply at the commissary department.

A big distributing point for clothing is at the Baltimore and Ohio
Railroad station, in the Fourth Ward, known as Harpville, on the east
bank of the Stony creek. A rudely constructed platform extends over a
washed-out ditch, partially filled with debris. In the vicinity is a
large barn and several smaller outhouses, thrown in a tumble-down
condition. Piled against them are beams and rafters from houses smashed
into kindling wood. All about the station are boxes, empty and full,
scattered in confusion, and around