to get rid of these d-d Yankees is to let them lay there and rot.”

Such was the conduct of this man Rylander.

We were compelled still to submit to our fate, though we employed every effort in our power to alleviate the sufferings of our dying friends. One case, in particular, attracted my attention. A political prisoner named Foote, who had formerly been a captain of a steamboat plying on the Florida rivers, being suspected as a Union man, was arrested and thrown into prison. He was occasionally visited by his wife, and so careful were the rebels, notwithstanding their boasted superiority, that two guards with loaded guns were invariably detailed to dog the footsteps of this woman. A system of perfect espionage was constantly maintained, and so suspicious were the rebels of each other, that they would not permit a single guard, in any case, to accompany a prisoner. An instance of the most barbarous torture it was ever my lot to behold, I witnessed while here. It was inflicted upon a young man from Illinois, for some offence unknown to me. He was taken and stretched upon the ground, face downward, his legs and arms drawn as far apart as possible, and then pinned to the ground by driving stakes across them; and in this state

of terrible torture was he left for twenty-four hours.

Acts like these filled our hearts with the most gloomy forebodings, and we began to seriously deliberate the propriety of consummating our previously contemplated escape. We were about three hundred and fifty miles from the nearest point where the stars and stripes could be reached by water, and two hundred and eighty miles by land. The distance seemed to be insurmountable, to say nothing of the impossibility of surviving the hot weather. But the hope of liberty gave zest to the project, and we determined at once and for ever to abandon the scene of so much horror and misery.

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CHAPTER VIII.

Preparing the Way-Dave-Pepper, Matches, and Fishhooks-Exchange of Clothing-Passing the Guard-lines -Frightened Horse-Halted-Passed-In the WoodsHidden in the Swamp-Pursued-A Night Journey in the Cane-brake-Manna.

WE resolved to select a dark and rainy night to put into execution our long cherished plan, and we waited anxiously for such a night. The morning of the 1st of June, which was the anniversary of my twenty-ninth birth-day, brought with it deep and long forgotten memories of other days.

The next day I was attracted by the movements of the old negro Dave, who was employed in the menial services of the prison. He was evidently well acquainted with our position, and knew all about the state of affairs. As he passed near me, he gave me a significant grin, hung his head in assumed diffidence, and began shoveling among the rubbish with all his might, saying to me as he labored, just loud enough for my ear, but looking all the while at his work:

"You Yankees has jis made about a tousand

of the drefful rebels bite the dust up in Tennessee. I golly, I'se glad!"

Why, Dave, aren't you a rebel, yourself?" "No, sah, massa, I'se-"

Just here, a straggling rebel official sauntered in sight, and our conversation was interrupted. If any Federal prisoners were discovered holding private consultations with the slaves, there was a death penalty just so adjusted in the martial laws of the Confederacy, as to meet the case. I let the day pass without further effort to see Dave.

The next day, however, finding a favorable opportunity, I asked Dave if he could furnish me three fish-hooks.

"God bless you, massa, yes!"-his eyes snapping fire as he responded.

"Can you get me a tin full of salt, and a paper of pepper ?"

"Yes, massa!"

"Can you get me a box of matches?"

"Yes, massa; but how's I gwine to get 'em

past the guards ?"

"Try, Dave, won't you?".

"Bless your soul, massa, yes!"

I

gave him the money, and when his chores. were done, he passed out, apparently one of the most stupid darkies I ever saw. Fortunately

our conversation was not overheard, and I soon was in possession of the desired articles.

ટ્

During the day, I visited a Tennesseean political prisoner-and proposed to exchange clothes with him, to which he at once assented, suspecting my object. He promised to be true, and reveal nothing. We agreed upon an hour when he should visit my quarters, at which time we were to exchange our clothing. I then informed Collins what I had done, and he made a similar arrangement with another Tennesseean.

Time passed wearily on, and brought the night of the 18th of June,* which was dark and rainy, and promised fairly for our proposed adventure. In due time our United States uniform was exchanged, and we were clad in rebel rags. Our hearts beat high with hope, and we were resolved to escape or perish in the attempt.

About half past eight o'clock, we slowly

A coincidence here is worthy of notice. On the 18th of June, seven United States soldiers were hung by the rebels at Atlanta, Georgia. They were a part of the celebrated Chattanooga Railroad scouts, sent out on a military excursion by General Mitchell, but who were captured and treated as spies. One of the survivors of the party, Lieut. WM. PITTENGER, gives a full and graphic account of their captivity and imprisonment in a book which every reader of this work should peruse.