You will empty your pockets of all valuables. Such as are not contraband of war, you will be allowed to retain. You will deliver up all your Federal money. An equivalent amount in Confederate money will be given you in instalments from time to time, or the whole will be returned to you when you are exchanged. You will turn pockets inside out. If you attempt to conceal anything, it will be confiscated. We were made to step forward singly, and were searched. Our coats and vests were taken off, also our boots and shoes; and a Confederate officer felt very carefully of all our clothing to make sure that nothing was hidden. I "remembered to forget" that I had two ten-dollar greenbacks compressed into a little wad in one corner of my watch fob; and that corner escaped inspection. Dick Turpin never was the richer for that money. They examined suspiciously a pocket edition of the New Testament in the original Greek; but I assured them it was not some diabolical Yankee cipher, and they allowed me to keep it. I made the most of my freemasonry, and they permitted me to retain my overcoat. One of our prisoners, it was whispered, had secretly stuffed $1300 in greenbacks into his canteen, but all canteens were taken from us as contraband of war, and nobody but "Uncle Sam" profited by the concealment. Having "gone through" us, they incarcerated the officers in one room, the enlisted men in another. FOOTNOTES: [4] Dr. Fontleroy was a brother of Mrs. Major Whittlesey, one of my fellow professors, instructor in military tactics, at Cornell University. Whittlesey was a graduate of West Point, and, while there, had had cadet U. S. Grant under his command! CHAPTER IV At Libby--Thence to Clover, Danville, Greensboro, and Salisbury--Effort to Pledge us not to Attempt Escape. The two rooms at Libby adjoined each other on the second floor, but a solid brick wall was between them. When we entered, about a hundred and fifty officers were already there. The first thing that attracted my attention was an officer putting a loaf of bread through a small hole in the partition where one or two bricks were removable. He was feeding a hungry prisoner. A cap or hat nicely concealed the perforation. Libby has a hard name, but it was the most comfortable of the six Confederate prisons of which I saw the interior. With all his alleged brutal severity, of which I saw no manifestation, and his ravenous appetite for greenbacks, for which we could not blame him, Dick Turner seemed an excellent disciplinarian. Everything went like clockwork. We knew what to expect or rather what not to expect, and _when_! My diary for Wednesday, September 28, 1864, the day after our arrival, reads as follows: The issue to us daily is One gill of boiled beans, One quarter gill of bean broth, One half loaf of soft bread, (Four ounces meat) and A little salt.