August 6.—The prisoners still continue to come in. A few days ago I saw about sixty in a crowd, and a more deplorable sight I never beheld; they were barefooted and bareheaded.
Mr. Holt, who has charge of the linen-room, gave them all the hats and shoes he could collect.
We sent them about two gallons of nice soup and what bread we could procure. Many of the men told me they would do without, and give their share to the prisoners. It would be some time before they could get food cooked at the prison.
On looking at these poor creatures, I thought what a pity it was that the men in Washington could not be made to take their places; if this was done, I think we should have peace.
A few days ago I visited the wounded prisoners, in company with Mrs. Bigby and Mrs. Berry. In one of the wards nearly all were men from the southern states— Kentucky, Tennessee, North Alabama, and North Mississippi, were there represented. I have far less respect for these men than I have for a real Yankee. To me it has always been a mystery how any man born on southern soil can have any affinity with the enemy.
We had a little boy with us, about two years old, whom the men tried to get to speak to them, but he would not go near them. One of them said he thought it strange. I told him I did not, as instinct had taught the child who its worst enemies were. He said, “Why, we never hurt children!” I answered, that burning their homes and destroying their food was not hurting them! Many of them answered, “We never do these things, and would shoot a man as soon as you would, who would do so.” I asked them if any one had been shot for setting fire to Palmetto? They answered no; they could not find out who had done it. I told them that I expected they never would.
They told us a good deal about how well the women of Georgia had treated them; they said they had given them food, and been very kind in every way. At this they need not feel at all flattered, as doubtless news had reached those ladies of the inhumanity with which many had been treated in North Georgia, and they thought it but wisdom, when in the lion’s jaw, to extricate themselves as easily as possible.
I know of many in this place who, as soon as they heard of the enemy coming, went to work to cook for them. We all know that this was not for love.
There was a Captain Shortz of Iowa, who had one of his hands cut off, and the other badly wounded. He was a pitiful sight. I told him I had more sympathy for him than I had for our own men. He asked me why. I answered, his conscience could not be at rest, like theirs. He said that was a difference of opinion. All the men there told us the same old story—they were fighting for the Union.
In another ward one of them, from New York, but a native of Cornwall, England, was nursing. I told him I was perfectly astonished to see one of his nation aiding the oppressor. He answered, that he was ashamed of his native country for sympathizing with us as it had done. He was an abolitionist, and the first I had met.
He said the main thing he disliked in being a prisoner was, that his time had expired, and had he been free he would have been home. I asked him if all went home when their time was up. He said yes; there was nothing for them to do, as they had three reserves, and we had only been fighting the first.
We have certainly a bright prospect ahead of us, if we have the other two reserves yet to fight!
I think the Federal government very inhuman. Why do they not send all the reserves to fight us at once, and not have their men killed by piecemeal, as they are now doing? The prisoners, one and all, told us that they could not be better treated.
Some of our wounded have died lately. Mr. Hull, a fine-looking lad, was one. I think he was a member of Ross’s Texas Cavalry. His brother was with him. A lieutenant, whose name I have forgotten, told me that Captain Haily is really killed. This gentleman was a particular friend of Captain H.; they had been school-boys together. He says a nobler or better man never lived.
Knives, forks, and spoons are still scarce. I do dislike to see the men eat, as many are compelled to eat, with their fingers. Some few have knives and forks of their own. We have cups, plates, bowls, and pitchers made at a factory near; they are common brown earthen-ware, but we are glad to get them.
We have heard that Mobile has been attacked in reality this time. I shall be anxious till I hear from there.
I have made the acquaintance of an excellent family by the name of Taylor, refugees from the northern portion of this state. A member of their family died lately. He had been captured some time ago, at one of the battles in Virginia. His mother, hearing that he was in the last stage of consumption, sent a letter by flag of truce to Stanton, or some of the other leading men of the North, stating his case, and begging his release—which request was granted. He came home in a dying condition; but it was a great consolation to both himself and family to breathe his last amid the endearments of home. I went to see him, but he was too far gone to speak to me.
