"The woods in the vicinity were full of skulkers, and, in order to make a show of having something to do, they would make their appearance in the rear of the fighting column, and devote themselves sedulously to guarding the prisoners." He adds, that "privates, corporals and sergeants, in turn, had them in charge;" and that "each in succession would call them into line, count them in an officious manner, and issue orders according to their liking," until some sneak of higher rank came along, assumed the superior command, and in a tone of authority, would say to the other poltroons: "Gentlemen, your services are much needed at the front. Go, and do your duty like soldiers." The result would be an exchange of tyrants, but no diminution of the petty tyranny. At dusk the prisoners were marched to, and lodged in, the jail at Warrenton. Like all Federal soldiers who fell into the enemy's hands, Glazier complains very bitterly of the small persecutions inflicted by the officers and men of the Home Guard, and unfortunately these mongrels--a cross between a civilian and a soldier--were their chief custodians during that night, and signalized themselves after their fashion. They deprived the prisoners of their clothing, and, in truth, everything of the slightest value in the eyes of a thief. One of these swashbucklers attempted to reduce our young hero's wardrobe to an Arkansas basis, namely, a straw-hat and a pair of spurs, with what success the following dialogue, taken mainly from "The Capture, Prison-Pen, and Escape," will indicate. "Here, Yank," said the guard, "hand me that thar hat, and over-coat, and boots." "No, sir, I won't; they are my property. You have no right to take them from me." "I have," said the guard. "We have authority from General Stuart to take from you prisoners whatever we d----d choose." "That I doubt," said the captive, "and if you are a gentleman you won't be guilty of stripping a defenceless prisoner." "I'll show you my authority, you d----d blue-belly," said the ruffian, drawing his revolver. "Now, take off that coat, or I'll blow your brains out." By this time Glazier's Northern blood was up, and he grew desperate, so he angrily answered: "Blow away then! It is as well to be without brains as without clothing." So the fellow, who was evidently a contemptible blusterer, whom General Stuart, had he been aware of his conduct, would have drummed out of the army, not willing to risk the consequences of actual violence--sneaked away. While this little incident was occurring at Warrenton jail, a very different event was transpiring at his father's house. His sister was dying. It was a peaceful, hopeful death--the death of a Christian--of one who in her young life had never by word or deed injured man or woman. Many weeks elapsed before her imprisoned brother heard of her death, and when the intelligence at length reached him, he was overwhelmed with grief at her loss.