We left Danville in April, 1864, having been confined there about five months. Although confined very closely, and our liberties few, upon the whole, Danville was the best-provided prison I was in; the rations of food being larger and more wholesome than at any other prison. It is true that the buckets of pea-soup swam with bugs, but that was a peculiarity of that savory dish at all the prisons of the South. We became accustomed to drinking the soup, bugs and all, without any compunctions of delicacy about it, and our only and sincere wish was for more of the same kind. Many a time did I pick these bugs from between my teeth without any commotion in my stomach whatever,--save of hunger. A man becomes accustomed to this way of living, and loses all sense of delicacy regarding his food. Quantity is the only question to be considered, quality being an object so unimportant as to be entirely lost sight of. We arrived at Andersonville, Ga., five days after leaving Danville. We had a very uncomfortable journey, being penned up in freight cars, seventy-five in a car, and not allowed to get out but once during the whole journey. We changed cars once on the route, and this was the only opportunity we had of stretching our limbs during the entire trip. I now ask the reader to allow me to pause a few moments to take breath and gather strength and courage for the task before me. CHAPTER II. ENTRANCE INTO ANDERSONVILLE PRISON.--HORRIBLE SIGHTS.--THE BELLE ISLANDERS.--THE KIND OF TREATMENT FOR FIRST FEW MONTHS.--CONDITION OF THINGS GENERALLY DURING THAT TIME.--NEW PRISONERS.--INAUGURATION OF CRUEL TREATMENT.--GOING OUT FOR FUEL AND SHELTER PROHIBITED.--RATIONS DIMINISHED.--THE PHILOSOPHY OF SOUTHERN PRISON DISCIPLINE.--SEVERITIES OF CLIMATE AND DREADFUL SUFFERING. Andersonville! Dread word! Dread name for cruelty, and patriots' graves, I stand paralyzed before thy horrid gates! Thou grim Leviathan of Death! I feel heart-sick as I approach thee! I feel how powerless I am to tell thy horrible story, thou monster monument of Inhumanity in the nation's history! I feel thy fangs while yet I descry thy hideous form through the mazy scope of years! I carry thy stings, and the grave alone shall hide the scars upon the marred and shattered body thou hast sacrificed, as a tree stripped of its fruit and foliage! After being counted into detachments and nineties by the commandant, the notorious Captain Wirz, we were marched into the prison. Heavens! what a sight met our gaze as we marched into that enclosure of destruction! Lying between the stockade and the dead-line, was a long line of corpses, which was necessarily one of the first objects our eyes rested upon as we entered the prison gates. There they lay, nearly naked in their rags, but the frames--but the bones and skin of men--with their upturned, wildly-ghastly, staring faces, and wide-open eyes.