Manning was sent to Georgia for trial. By mistake he was carried with a party to Andersonville, and turned into that place of yet untold horrors; but thither, after seven days, he was tracked out by the authorities, and to them turned over by the brutal Capt. Wirz, who, at parting, shook his clenched fist in his face, and cursed him vehemently as "one of Butler's spies," disgracing that foul stockade by his temporary presence. Thence to Macon, he was shut in a felon's cell in the common jail. There the days dragged heavily, while he lacked air, exercise, fitting food, hope. He pined away until it seemed as if he could not live. "I heard it whispered around, many a time," he wrote afterwards, "'Poor Manning! What a pity that he must die in such a place as this. Poor boy! he's past recovery.'" It was while shut in there, anticipating trial, conviction, death, that Manning cast himself before the Lord, and cried mightily for help. On his knees, behind the grated door of his hope-barred cell, he pleaded that he might yet have life and again find liberty. Although in intense and agonized earnestness, he yet prayed in trustful submission to God's righteous will; and, in no mere selfish love of ease and safety, solemnly he promised there that if his life was spared, it should be given wholly and heartily to the service of Jesus. In relating this incident after his release, he added artlessly, "I told God that if my life was spared, I should know _He_ did it, for there was no other hope for me, then." That prayer and that vow seemed to be favorably heard of God. An alarm from an anticipated attack startled the authorities at Macon; the provost-marshal of the post was ordered on active duty; in the transfer of authorities, the charges against Manning were lost, and in consequence his court-martial trial did not take place. But his personal trials were by no means at an end. His tedious prison-life had barely commenced. ESCAPE AND RECAPTURE.--TORN BY BLOOD-HOUNDS.