Three days only did we remain at Madison,--days of comparative quiet and hope, during which we recovered some degree of our wasted strength, which was sadly needed for future trials. The rebel authorities, having become convinced that Chattanooga was not in present danger from General Mitchel, ordered us back to that place. Our destination was not known to us, and the usual rumors circulated as to being now on our way for exchange. To move from one prison to another--an experience we had quite frequently--was always a welcome relief, and served, in some measure, to mitigate the excessive rigor of our confinement. We went back over the same road we came, and had again to run the gauntlet of insulting and jeering mobs. We traveled in rude box-cars, wet and filthy, and were harassed by the fear of going back to our miserable prison at Chattanooga. One circumstance rendered the journey more endurable. Captain Laws, who commanded the guard, and his soldiers also, had been in close association with us for several days, and had become really interested in our welfare. While he did not relax any of his vigilance, he strove to make the hardship of our position more endurable, and showed a friendly spirit on every occasion. His good will was especially valuable when we reached Chattanooga. The remorseless order had been given for our return to the negro prison. Captain Laws could not change this, but by using his influence with Colonel Patrick Cleiburne, a man of humanity, who occupied the position of provost-marshal of Chattanooga for a short time, he got permission for us to remain in the upper room instead of being forced into the dungeon below. This was a great relief, for although we were equally crowded, yet the upper room was above-ground, had three windows instead of two, and these were of larger size. We had, therefore, a much better supply of air and light. We were very sorry for the fourteen poor Tennesseeans who were put below. Our enemies displayed a wonderful degree of caution in the manner of guarding us. Even when we were below, where a man, if left alone, could scarcely have gotten out without assistance, they never raised the trap-door unprotected by a strong guard. Old Swims remonstrated against our being in the upper room, and seemed in perpetual terror. He fretted, and predicted that evil would come from showing the Yankees so much indulgence. Yet the precautions observed ought to have reassured him. Before our door was opened a strong guard was always brought up-stairs into the jailer's room, from which ours was entered, and arrayed in two lines with levelled bayonets. At the same time the stairway was guarded, and the whole jail surrounded by a strong force outside of the wall. We had not yet been relieved of our fetters,--at least, not by Confederate authority.