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[454] even to sit; sleep was of course impossible, and we spent the rest of the night wondering what would be the end of all this. At about eight the next morning we were taken, two hundred or so at a time, up two flights of stairs, to the rooms which were to be our jails; and there Dick Turner robbed us again. There was not much to reward his industry,—we had been too thoroughly searched by the Petersburg thieves for that,—and when he had stolen everything he could find he left us.

With the idea of humiliating us, a negro with a club was stationed at the door, but it may be imagined that he did us no harm. In the greenness of my soul I asked him what we were to keep our rations in when they were dealt out. ‘You won't be troubled with rations,’ he answered, and his words came true.

I have told the story in detail so far; but we were now fairly entered on our prison life, and one day was like another, so it will not be necessary to particularize. Our daily life was as follows. We got up off the floor at daybreak, cold and numb and lame, and when the sun rose and shone a little while into the two eastern windows, we gathered there to enjoy his rays as flies do when they begin to feel old and stiff in autumn. Then we would go to our own part of the room; for we formed little squads, and had our own territory which we never left by day. The Tenth Battery squad had, as I believe, the most eligible camping ground in the whole room, for it was on the side next the river and had two windows. Here we sat until the sweepers came,—three negroes with a broom and one with a half barrel,—whose business was to sweep the floor. They were under command of a tall, thin, and sour Georgian who made it his occupation to

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