Much has been said, written, and spoken of the treatment of prisoners, North and South. In the United States Senate it was on one occasion the cause of a heated debate between Senators Hill and Blaine; and no doubt Senator Hill got the better of the argument, for with the Southern ports all blockaded, our people raising tobacco, cotton, resin, and turpentine, we did not have provisions to feed the army, and consequently the prisoners at Andersonville and other Southern prisons had to fare the same as our army. On the other hand, the United States was teeming with men, provisions, and money, all the ports were open to the world, and a bounty of six hundred dollars had induced a great flood of emigrants from the Old World. While the words I use in describing prison life may be harsh, yet there is no bitterness in my heart. When I took the oath of allegiance at Elmira, N. Y., nearly three months after General Lee surrendered, I turned my back upon the past, and buried it with all its prejudices and animosities. I recognize the fatherhood of God, the brotherhood of man, and there is no one with whom I cannot clasp hands. The quarters at Point Lookout were large Sibley tents, which were cone-shaped. These tents would accommodate seventeen men sleeping in a circle. We did not need any blankets, and for a pillow we raked up a bank of sand. It was very hot in these tents with so many bunkmates. Our rations consisted of salt pork, bean soup, hard-tack, and occasionally fresh meat. We had not been in prison long before we were deprived of coffee. There were three large gates in the fence opening out to Chesapeake Bay, and we bathed and did our washing there. Near Major Weymouth’s headquarters was another gate, opening to the pier where all the vessels unloaded prisoners and supplies. On the bay side at night the gates were closed, and no one could get to the bay. I was at the Point five weeks without change of clothing. I would go into the bay, wash my clothes, hang them on sand to dry, and go into the water up to my chin to keep from getting sunburned. At the end of five weeks I resolved to get some clothing, so I denied myself a ration a day, and after the two days’ fast I sold my two rations to a fellow-prisoner for five cents, and with the money I purchased from the sutler one postage stamp, in those days three cents, and one cent each for sheets of paper and envelopes; and as soon as my letter reached a friend in Baltimore he sent me a package of clothing and a ten-pound package of Killikinnick smoking tobacco. In writing a letter you could use only one side of the sheet, as all letters had to be examined and approved before mailing, and you had to be careful not to write anything contraband. The envelopes were stamped: “Prisoner’s letter, examined and approved.” On receiving letters, they first came to the commandant and were read and stamped approved by him. Remittances of money, by mail or express, were receipted for by the commandant, and