The month of March dragged slowly along. The commissary boxes which had been sent to us from the north were in sight, but we were never allowed to touch their contents, our only ration still consisting of the one chunk of corn bread daily. April came, and every day the cry was "Bread! bread! bread!" not only in the prison but also on the streets. Bread riots were reported to us as having occurred even in the city. Toward the last of April I was approached by an officer of high rank, who asked if I was "anxious to be exchanged?" Of course I was! I replied, my hopes going up. He then told me they wanted to send a message north to headquarters at Washington, and I might carry it if they could effect my exchange. The message was that Longstreet's army from Knoxville, Tennessee, about forty thousand strong, had just passed through Lynchburg, going north to join Lee in Northern Virginia; and that Beauregard's army had passed through Petersburg, going north on the same mission, with about thirty thousand men. The message was to be enclosed in a brass button, and they were in hopes they might get me through the lines, as I was in poor health. The application was made, but alas for the hopes of a prisoner in the hands of rebel captors! I never heard anything further of the proposition, and again settled down to wait some new disappointment. The first of May came, that day of so many bright memories in my northern home. The city of Richmond was all excitement; old men and small boys could be seen going down Franklin Street with old muskets and clean new white haversacks; and the rebs commenced to issue to us our long-looked-for boxes. Once more hopes of a change for the better took possession of us, and it seemed as if they could not deliver us our boxes fast enough. Negroes would carry them over to the lower middle room and then the roll would be called.