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The next morning other prisoners were brought to face the writer with the question, ‘How is it that your accounts differ so much; one says 4,000, the others 1,200 to 1,500.’ The first prisoner, learning that the Union troops were gone, acknowledged the deception and told the reason of it. Some among the Confederates were for shooting him, some called him hard names, the only time he was insulted by soldiers, but others said he did right, and his life was in no danger.

The prisoners requested the privilege and were allowed to bury their dead. They were then placed under guard in the jail, a stone building, where they remained for two weeks, during which time others were added to their number until there were about one hundred prisoners.

This was but a meagre return for 10,000 men, and subsequently the writer saw in a Richmond paper that the Confederate Congress had passed a vote of censure on the conduct of the campaign in West Virginia. To that vote the writer may have contributed by his parsimonious use of the truth on the day of his capture.

The journey from Fayetteville to Dublin Station, on the Tennessee and Virginia railroad, about 100 miles, was made on foot, the guards riding. At Dublin Station we camped in a woody pasture, and two wagons were driven up with provisions in the way of meal and pork, for the prisoners. The writer had a companion with whom he messed. This companion went to a wagon, about dusk, and drew rations for himself and his partner, he then went to the other wagon and repeated the heroic action. The writer then went up and drew for two also, and they spent the larger portion of the night in rustic cookery. They had heard of Hotel de Libby. The next day the journey was made on the cars to Lynchburg. A number of Southern officers were on the train, who conversed with the prisoners. One, a Major in the Twenty-Ninth Virginia, sat down with the writer and they debated the question of the war keenly. The possibility of being overcome by the North (this was in 1862) he would not admit. ‘Then,’ said the writer, ‘will you, when you have gained your independence, allow the West to join your Confederacy? Our interests are bound up with yours more than with New England!’ ‘No,’ was the indignant answer. ‘You have tried to subjugate us, and we will have nothing to do with you.’

We concluded that the South would be harder to conquer than the North thought. He also told the writer that some ham, wine and other delicacies which had been sent from Cincinnati, directed

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