“Breathes there a man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose heart hath ne’er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand! If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no Minstrel rapture swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; Despite those titles, power and pelf, The wretch, concentrated all in self, Living, shall forfeit all renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored and unsung.” The Lay of the last Minstrel. Scott. During the time of our stay at Charleston, the rebel officers had made great efforts to induce the prisoners to take the oath of allegiance to the Confederacy, promising good treatment, good pay, good clothing, a large bounty and service in a bomb proof position in return. If men had stopped to think, these promises carried with them abundant proof of their own falsity. Where was the evidence of good treatment, judging of the future by the past? What did good pay and large bounties amount to when it took two hundred dollars of that good pay and large bounty to buy a pair of boots? And the good clothing, yes they could clothe them with the uniforms stripped from their dead comrades upon the battlefield or stolen from the supplies sent to the prisoners. But, lured by these specious promises, about a hundred and twenty-five prisoners went out one day and, as we supposed, took the oath. They were marched away cityward in the morning, but before night they returned. We saluted them on their return with groans and hisses and curses. They reported that they were to be sent to James Island to throw up earth-works in front of the rebel lines. This they refused to do, and they were returned to prison. At Florence another effort was made to recruit men. The rebels wanted foreigners for the army, and artisans of all kinds particularly blacksmiths, shoemakers, carpenters and machinists for their shops. Many of our artisans went out thinking they would get a chance to work for food and clothing by simply giving their parole of honor they would not attempt to escape. But the rebs insisted that they must take the oath of allegiance. A few took the required oath, but most of the boys returned to prison, and most heartily anathematized the men who had the impudence and presumption to suppose that they would be guilty of taking the oath of allegiance to such a rotten, hell-born thing as the Southern Confederacy.