The Eternal years of God are hers;
But Error, wounded, writhes in pain;
And dies amid her worshipers."
It is not to be denied that the sufferings in Confederate prisons were fearful; but they were caused by the destitute condition of the country ravaged by war, and the scarcity of medicines which were not to be obtained.
We were growing very tired of the monotony of prison life, scarcely varied except by the daily game of football and the semi-weekly reports of the capture of Richmond, when a rumor began to circulate of a speedy exchange of prisoners. It was about the time when General McClellan "changed his base" from the lines around Richmond to Harrison's Landing, on James River. Early in August a large number of us, military and naval officers, were sent on board a transport bound to James River, where we arrived in due time, and thence, after taking on board a number of Confederates forwarded from other prisons, we proceeded up the river to Aiken's Landing. There was fighting near Malvern Hill as we passed by there, and the United States gunboats had been shelling the Confederate troops. The crew of one of them was at quarters, the men in their snow white "frocks" and trowsers, the beautifully polished eight inch guns cast loose and ready for action. The captain of one of the guns, a handsome man-of-war's man, looked at our party with a smile of bravado as we passed by, at the same time tapping his gun with his hand. Garrick or Kean could not have conveyed more meaning by a gesture. That handsome fellow's confidence in his pet was not misplaced; for history records how frequently during the war the tide of battle was turned by that gallant Navy to which it is an honor ever to have belonged. We, who so reluctantly severed our connection with it, still feel a pride in its achievements; and in our dreams are frequently pacing the deck, or sitting at the mess table with dear friends of "auld lang syne," from whom we are probably severed forever on this side of eternity.
We were put ashore at Aiken's Landing on the 5th of August. It was a hot, sultry day. Three or four poor fellows had died on board our transport while on our way up the river, and their bodies were landed at the same time with ourselves. While we were waiting for the preliminaries for the exchange of prisoners to be settled between the Commissioners, a large grave was dug in the sand with such implements as could be procured, and the "unknown" were consigned to their last resting place between high and low water mark.