The tobacco warehouse which we occupied, is on the main street of Richmond. It was similar to several other buildings and they were all used as Military Prisons, and all called Libby Prison. It is a large, three-story building and built as it was, in a most substantial manner, was well adapted for a Military Prison. The first floor was allotted to the officers captured, some 70 in number, and the other stories filled with the men, perhaps 250 of them. In the centre of the lower or officers' floor is placed the heavy machinery for pressing and preparing the tobacco, thus dividing the space into two equal sections, and occupying one-half of the floor space, which was 65 x 45 feet. The windows on the street floor are well protected by iron bars, while those opposite are unprovided with bars, and open upon the yard, but guarded by sentinels stationed there, with orders to shoot any prisoners in either story who lean out of the windows. Seven men were shot by these guardsmen while I was confined there. Those dying in the nearby hospital were taken to this yard for shipment elsewhere in wagons. We had no inducement to peer inquisitively from the windows. The windows on the street, however, afforded us some more interesting views. Some of the towns-people were almost always outside-lookers-in, and occasionally someone would, when unnoticed by the guard at the entrance, show a sign of sympathy. We frequently saw Jeff Davis riding by, and we always took pains to regale him with pertinent remarks befitting his high rank, or with some applicable song. One song was called the Prison Song, to the tune of,--"John Brown's Body lies a-Slumbering in the Ground." The words, descriptive of our situation, I do not remember, but the refrain ran,--"Roll on Sweet Moments, Roll on, and let the poor prisoners go home, go home." There were ten mess tables made of rough boards, and benches or stools. The fare was meagre; the floor hard for sleeping, though later we procured some cots; the covering insufficient, and the vermin ineffaceable pests. We had almost no books, nothing to help pass the time. We took daily walks by reliefs, up and down one side of our scanty quarters. There was a daily roll call, when chaffing the Officer of the Day gave slight amusement. At one time three or four of our companions escaped from prison, passing the guard by a show of authority. The wearing of Federal uniforms secured on the field of battle was so common in the streets, that the guards could hardly tell friends from foe.