General Grant said that one of us was keeping two fat rebels out of the field. Now if this is true why are not the ex-prisoners recognized by proper legislation? All other classes of men who went to the war and many men and women who did not go, are recognized and I believe that justice demands the recognition of the ex-prisoners. I make no special plea in my own behalf. I suffered no more than any other of the thousands who were with me, and not as much as some, but I make the plea in behalf of my comrades who I know suffered untold miseries for the cause of the Union, and yet who amidst all this suffering and privation, spurned with contempt the offers made by the enemy of food, clothing and life itself almost, at the cost of loyalty. Their motto then was, “Death but not dishonor.” But their motto now is, “Fiat justicia, ruat coelum.” Let justice be done though the heavens fall. Since writing a description of the prison life in Andersonville, I came across the following account of a late visit to the old pen, by a member of the 2d Ohio, of my brigade. It is copied from the National Tribune, and I take the liberty to use it to show the readers of these articles how much the place has changed in twenty-five years. THE AUTHOR. ANDERSONVILLE, GA. The Celebrated Prison and Cemetery Revisited. EDITOR NATIONAL TRIBUNE: Having recently made a trip to Andersonville, Ga., I thought a brief discription of the old prison and cemetery might be of interest to the readers of your paper. I left the land of ice, sleet and snow March 26, 1888, taking Pullman car over Monon route via Louisville and Nashville, arriving at Bowling Green, Ky., 100 miles south of Louisville, at noon on March 27. Peach trees were in bloom and wild flowers were to be seen along the route. Nearing Nashville we passed through the National Cemetery. The grounds are laid out nicely and neatly kept and looked quite beautiful as we passed swiftly by. Leaving Nashville, I called a halt, took a brief look over the once bloody battlefield of Stone River. I then passed through Murfreesboro and Tullahoma. At Cowen’s Station I stopped for supper. This is the place where the dog leg-of mutton soup was dished up in 1863. At Chattanooga I visited Lookout Mountain; then went to the graves of my comrades, the Mitchel raiders, that captured the locomotive and were hanged at Atlanta. The graves are in a circle in the National Cemetery. For the information of their friends I will give the number of their graves as marked on headstones: J. J. Andrews. 12992. Citizen of Kentucky. William Campbell. 11,180. Citizen of Kentucky. Samuel Slaven. 11176. Co. G, 33d Ohio. S. Robinson. 11177. Co. G, 33d Ohio. G. D. Wilson. 11178. Co. B, 2d Ohio. Marion Ross. 11179. Co. A, 2d Ohio. Perry G. Shadrack. 11181. Co. K, 2d Ohio. John Scott. 11182. Co. K, 21st Ohio.