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Prison Experience.
325

terms to serve. All of them wore balls and chains, and they made night hideous with their curses, screams, and the rattling of the chains. An instance will suffice to show what manner of men they were. One day, a terrible fight was in progress amongst them. The sentry approached the door, which was an aperture about 4x4, and commanded them to desist. A blow on the head with a brick was the answer he received. An officer came in with a guard of three or four men, and as he came in front of the opening he also was felled by a blow on the head. He ordered his men to fire. They did so, when the most horrid groans and screams, interspersed with frightful oaths, issued from the opening. The firing checked the fight, and the result was observable. A few moments afterwards one dead and several wounded were brought out. It may be well to remark that the Confederates who were thrown together here formed attachments for each other which lasted until the end of their imprisonment. It was nothing more than natural—situated, as we were, in a strange land, amongst strangers and enemies. It was while we were here (Fort McHenry) that the South Carolina prisoners were notified that they could either take the oath or submit to the drawing of lots. Some weak minded ones yielded, but the majority remained firm. We were told after the drawing was over that it was for hostages to be retained by the United States Government for the safe return of three negroes, who, they affirmed, had been captured by the Confederate authorities in Charleston harbor. The unfortunate men selected by this drawing were Williams, McDowell and Cline, of the Second South Carolina cavalry, who were then confined in the old Carroll Prison, at Washington, District of Columbia. The writer did not know what disposition was made of them, but learned afterwards that they were retained in close confinement during the war, which impaired their health to such a degree that two of them died soon after they came home. From our quarters at Fort McHenry we had a delightful view of the city of Baltimore and suburbs; also of Fort Marshall, situated across the bay. The gallows, upon which the gallant but unfortunate Layfole was hung, was also in full view of our window—left standing long after the event apparently to remind us of his fate. The famous New York Seventh regiment was stationed here awhile, and was ofter taken by new comers for Confederate soldiers. The dress parade of the garrison, with their fine music, was eagerly anticipated every evening. But I am consuming too much time with Fort McHenry, and must bid it good