now think of the wonderful prayer meetings, and oh, with what power did the real saints of God prevail through Christ, the Lord Jesus. I do thank God in later years that I have learned to trust fully in Him. Now think of poor suffering humanity living on less than one pint of field peas for a day’s rations for nearly thirteen months! Such was the suffering of many in this prison, and how often I have thought how little one man’s experience was, considering the vast suffering in this place. Oh, this is a sad thing to contemplate, but in my old age and the crippled condition of my body, and mental and bodily suffering, I have been led to write up for the last time, a true story of my life and suffering. There has not been a moment of time the last four years, coming April 28th, that I haven’t suffered almost untold agony from a severe fall from a basement barn, which unjointed and broke my left hip and caused other internal injuries, from which I can never recover. Now there were many things that happened in Andersonville that have never gone down in history, simply because there were many things that were not generally known. There is the story of the hanging of the six men, and such things that are known by almost every man who was not there at the time, but now comes three men for their rations of the rebel sergeant, two brothers and a father. Well, very soon the poor old man gets sick and becomes so bad that he cannot rise from the cold, damp ground. Soon the scurvy takes hold of him, with many other bodily ailments. His sons are then called on to get his rations. The rebel sergeant thinks it is some Yankee trick. He was the rebel police who was always on hand at the time of issuing Yankee rations. We used to remark that they were so very delicious you could smell them at least ten rods. You knew they were coming if you were on the windward side, because they were cooked up some two or three days ahead of dealing out and of course they would ferment and get sour. Now these were steamed in very large lots, in two bushel sacks, and emptied into a large army cart drawn by a three mule team. As I was saying, here goes the two sons for their own and their father’s rations. You would think it very cruel if you had been in their place and had just got less than one pint, and then have those rebel guards beset you as they did those poor boys and almost kill you for asking for a small bit of stuff that you would not be guilty of giving to your dog, for surely he would not eat it unless he were nearly starving. Then to see the rebel guards without any earthly excuse shoot men clear across the prison merely for pastime to let the southern ladies see how good and correct they shoot, killing poor praying men. These are sad pictures, but they are nevertheless true. And to think of men catching a small dog belonging to Wirz while he with Jeff Davis were inspecting the prison, and skinning and eating