own what the future had in store for them.
On the morning of January 1, 1864, the rebel sergeant and aides came in, as usual, to call the roll.
Before going out, he said: See here, Yanks, I wish you all a Happy New Year, and many a one here.
Jud Oliver thought that a very consoling remark, and only wished the rebel's stomach groaned as his did. A few days after we were taken out of this place, at two o'clock in the morning, and sent down to Belle Isle, two miles distant, a small, low island isold for hot chicken soup at a high price.
Many who had money eagerly bought and devoured it. And I saw a poor fellow walk up and eat some raw hog beans which a man had vomited up, after overloading his stomach with them.
About this time poor Jud Oliver was taken very sick, being feverish and delirious and unable to walk.
I assisted him to the boat, and bade him good-by, as I supposed for the last time on earth, and he was taken to the Richmond Hospital.
About a month afterwards a special pa