Time hung heavy on our hands. We got but meagre news from the front and this came through rebel sources, and was so colored in favor of the rebel army, as to be of little or no satisfaction to us. The news that Meade had crossed the Rapidan, or had recrossed the Rapidan, had become so monotonous as to be a standing joke with us. Our first question to an Army of the Potomac man in the morning would be, “has Meade crossed the Rapidan yet this morning?” This frequently led to a skirmish in which some one usually got a bloody nose. News of exchange came frequently but exchange did not come. Somebody would start the story that a cartel had been agreed upon, then would come a long discussion upon the probabilities of the truth of the story. The rebels always told prisoners that they were going to be exchanged whenever they moved them from one point to another. This kept the prisoners quiet and saved extra guards on the train. While we were at Richmond we had no well concerted plan for killing time for we were looking forward hopefully to the time when we should be exchanged, but we learned at last to distrust all rumors of exchange and all other promises of good to us for hope was so long deferred that our hearts became sick. We were too much disheartened to joke but occasionally something would occur which would cause us to laugh. It would be a sort of dry laugh, more resembling the crackling of parchment but it was the best we could afford under the circumstances and had to pass muster for a laugh. One day salt was issued to us and nothing but salt. I suppose “Majah” Turner thought we could eat salt and that would cause us to drink so much water that it would fill us up. A German, who could not talk English, was not present when the salt was divided. He afterward learned that salt had been issued and went to the Sergeant of his mess and called, “zult, zult.” “What?” said the Sergeant. “Zult, zult.” said Dutchy. “O, salt! The salt is all gone. All been divided. Salt ausgespiel,” says the Sergeant. “Zult, zult!” says Duchy. “Go to h—l” says the Sergeant. “Var ish der hell?” And then we exploded. I remained in Richmond until November 24th, when I, with 699 other prisoners was removed to Danville, Va.