A PRISONER’S MARCH FROM GETTYSBURG TO STAUNTON. 433
on my strength. My feet were sore, and my stom-ach was faint beyond endurance, and the climaxwas reached one day when my sight left me, and Ithrew myself down on the roadside to die. Therallying cry of “ A cavalry charge ” had no moreeffect on me; X knew they could not approach usnow, and I gave up in despair as soon as I foundI was blind. The guards tried to make me getup, but I listened with indifference to their threatsto shoot me. The rear-guard of each divisionpassed me with the same result for their effortsto rouse me, until at last the rear-guard of allcame up; the officer in command assured me thatit was his duty to kill me rather than leave mebehind, and though I believed him I could notmove, and merely told him so. At last he told aman to “ran me through” with his bayonet, but Isuppose there was a saving sign that I did not see,for after a pause I heard him tell the man to stay'with me until a wagon came along and I could betaken and given something to eat. I never sawthat officer, but I hope Gfod saw his act of for-bearance and humanity and rewarded him for it.There have been miserable cowards in eitherarmy who bullied and mistreated unfortunateprisoners when they had the power to do so, butthe true soldier never did, and I never saw any-thing but kindness shown to the prisoners thatmy regiment took, and I never experienced any-thing but kindness from the men who guarded mofrom Gettysburg to Staunton.
After a long rest I was placed in a wagon andtaken to a house where I got a big slice of breadand butter, and in a short time sight and strengthreturned, and I was able to march with the col-umn. I ought to add for my own credit that I diduot fall out again, though faint and hungry oftenenough. The towns through which we passed onour way up the Shenandoah Valley were apprised°f our coming, and manifested a different spirit,of course, from that exhibited at Martinsburg.Many insulted and upbraided us, but some of ourmen who excelled in nothing else were mighty invituperation and abusive eloquence, and these
paid back with interest all the taunts we received,often, I am sorry to say, surpassing the boundsof self-respect and decency.
We usually encamped in large meadows,through which streams of good water ran, andwere here allowed to wash, eat, and sleep whileour guards were posted around the fences. Atone of those halts, as we approached Staunton, afarmer with his wife drove up close to the fence,and after taking a critical survey of the crowd hesaid indignantly: “Forty thousand Yankee pris-oners! Why, I would bet the best farm in thevalley that there isn’t a quarter of them here! ”
The heralds everywhere had doubtless added aharmless cipher to our real number.
At length — about the 20th of July, I think—wearrived at Staunton, weary and sore. We hadmarched about fifteen miles a day since we leftWilliamsport . As we entered Staunton someshowed their love to their enemies by supplyingus with tracts, but I am not sure that their kind-ness was appreciated by the prisoners as generallyas was the attention paid to our hungry stomachsby the people of Martinsburg. While waitingthere for transportation to Richmond we wereamused to note the esteem in which the peopleheld the Confederate money. Those who broughtwares into our camp for sale at first refused tosell at all except for Federal money. When theofficers threatened to expel from the camp anywho did that, they would ask to see the moneybefore naming the price, and if it was Federal,the pie was a quarter, but if Confederate, it wouldcost a dollar. One young army sharper—not oneof our guards and not a Virginian — must havemade a small fortune by exchanging money withour men at the rate of about two for one.He told them that at Richmond the respectivevalues were even, but when we were marchedthrough that city we found it to be as ten toone.
Our marches ended here; we were placed in box,or gravel cars, and at a slightly increased rate ofspeed were taken to Richmond .
CONFEDERATES CAPTURED AT GETTYSBURG. FROM A PHOTOGRAPH.