the house and brought us several pails of beer and three or four loaves of bread and two or three pounds of Cheese, and to some of us she gave some money; the name of this woman was Clemons, a native of Boston, and she was about 30 years of age. She kept a small shop at the righthand side of the road near Kings bridge. We marched till we come to the Bowery, within 3/4 of a mile of New York; being very thirsty I prevailed upon the guard to stop, that we might again refresh ourselves. We asked some negroes if they would give us some water, to which they replied "No Domd you, you rebels, that we cant give you none, we are some of Donmons Men," we were forced to go on without our desired refreshments. As we come into the town the Hesians, Negroes, and children insulted, stoned and abused us in every way they could think of. At that time two of our men had become so fatigued that we were obliged to carry them. In this way we were led through half the streets, as a show. At last we were brought before Gen Jones who ordered us to the Sugar House which formerly went by the name of Livingston's Sugar House which was the Prison the private Soldiers were kept in. Here one Walley a Seargent of the 20th Regt. of Irish troops in the British Service, had the charge of the prisoners. This man was the most barbarous, cruel man that ever I saw he drove us into the Sugar house yard like so many hogs, from there he ordered us into the Sugar House which was the dirtiest and most disagreeable place that I ever saw and the water in the pump was not better than that in the Dock. The top of the House was open to the weather, so that when it rained the water ran along and through every floor and on that account it was impossible for us to keep dry. Mr Walley gave us (13 of us) 4 pounds of poor Irish Pork and 4 pounds of mouldy bread for 4 days. After passing one night I asked Mr Walley if I was not to have my parole to which he answered No. I then asked for a pen and ink that I might write a petition to the Gen for it, he answered no, and was very cross and abused me very much. I again asked him the reason why I was not to have my parole, he told me I was not to have it. I then asked him if he would let me have a pen and ink to write a few lines to my father which he might see before I sent them. He then struck me across the face with a staff which I have seen him beat the prisoners; he told me he would find a place for me. The next morning he came and took me out of prison under guard with one Capt Bissel (whom he had taken from the main Guard) and conveyed us to the Provost Guard. Capt Bissel was put in the upper part of the prison. I was then taken down to a Dungeon; when the door was opened "here" says Sergeant Keith (the Provost marshal) "here's a Doctor for you, you Damb rebbel." When I went in I found Capt Chatham formaly Capt of a Privateer, and belonged to Pensylvania, and was taken prisoner and put in this dungeon, because after he was taken captive, he was