offer up our devotions, and lie down to sleep, and
often to indulge in the most delightful dreams of freedom, friends,
and home. In the morning we waked again, and the same round was
recommenced. Thus days glided into weeks, and weeks passed into
months. The light golden hues of autumn deepened into the dead and
sombre colors of early winter, and still we were in Atlanta. Our weak
faith, judging what would be from what had been, could scarcely
conceive that we would ever be anywhere else! A heavy, dead
indifference, like the lack of sensibility which the repeated
infliction of pain produces in our physical natures, took possession
of us. We almost ceased even to hope!

But at last there came a day of rejoicing. A number of officers
visited the barracks, and inquired which was the room occupied by the
Federal prisoners. On being shown around to our apartment, they told
us to fall into line, and then said they had glad news for us.

"You have all been exchanged, and all that now remains is for us to
send you out of our territory."

They then came along the lines, and shook hands with us, offering
congratulations on the happy termination of our trials, and wishing us
much joy on our arrival at home.

Our feelings may be better imagined than described. There was an
overwhelming rush of emotions which forbade utterance--happy
joy--exhilarating, and yet mingled with a deep touch of sorrow, that
our seven dead--murdered--comrades were not with us to share the joy
of this unexpected release. And the eight also who had managed to get
out of the clutches of the rebels by their own daring--we were uneasy
about them. Only a day or two before, we had seen in an Atlanta paper,
obtained, as usual, through a _contraband_ source, an article clipped
from the "_Cincinnati Commercial_," giving notice of the arrival of
Porter and Wollam at Corinth, in a very wretched and famished
condition. This was most gratifying to us, but of the others we had,
as yet, received no reliable information. The Provost-marshal told us
that three of them had been shot and left in the woods, but judging by
the source, we considered the account very doubtful, and still
cherished the hope that the whole story was a fabrication.[10] Thus we
were in suspense as to their fate. But still, beyond all this, the
prospect of speedily gaining our liberty, was enough to make our
hearts overflow with gratitude to that Being who had so wonderfully
preserved us through a