At night about one hundred and fifty Union soldiers were brought in; mostly for desertion and insubordination. They are very bitter in their denunciation of the Government. They seem to care but little for the guards, and do pretty much as they please. Whether from fear or sympathy, the guards appear indifferent to their words or behavior. Some of the soldiers say they “enlisted to fight for the Union and not for the nigger.” One said, “If they bring up all the men who are dissatisfied, the Government will have to build more prisons.”
Friday, March 6.—My wife came to see me. A corporal came up and escorted me down to the reception room. On entering the room we were seated in chairs placed opposite each other, and at a distance of about three or four feet apart. Then a little puppy, who acts as a clerk or detective, took his seat in a chair which he drew up in front of, and between the chairs occupied by myself and wife; where he could not fail to hear every word that passed. Then he threw himself back in his chair with an air of self-importance, as if to say, “Now you can go on, with my permission.” He interrupted our conversation several times by volunteering remarks altogether uncalled for. My wife said that my mother and she were worried about me at home, as they heard I would be sent away. Hearing this the fellow turned to a lieutenant who was in the room, and asked in a tone which could be heard across the room:
“Can you give me the number and names of the prisoners in Rooms 15 and 16, as they are about to be sent away?”
He knew I was in Room 16, and thought to annoy us by asking this question. At the end of fifteen minutes our conversation was abruptly brought to an end. My wife was compelled to take the oath before she was allowed to see me.
She told me that my son Henry had taken a change for the better within an hour after I left him, at the expiration of my parole, and, knowing I would be anxious to hear about him, they sent me a message to that effect immediately. Two weeks have elapsed, but the message has never been delivered.
Young Thomas Hurst was called down to see his sister directly after my wife left, and he told me he had the same experience as we had, and the same remark was made in the presence of his sister as that used to annoy my wife.
Three Federal soldiers confined here attempted to escape by way of the cellar. Two succeeded and one was caught.
Sunday, March 8.—About 1:30 P.M., one hundred and fifty prisoners were brought in. They came from St. Louis direct; they are mostly soldiers. They have been in prison—some one, others three and five months. With regard to the soldiers this is a violation of the cartel by the United States authorities. The cartel of exchange provides that prisoners of war be discharged on parole within ten days after capture. These expect to be exchanged about the 16th of this month. They were brought through Baltimore, arriving in this city last night, and were crowded in a place which, from the description given, I judge to be the Central Guard House. They say that they were put into rooms where they were obliged to pass the night in a standing posture, as there was not room enough to lie down. After being brought here they were kept standing in the damp yard (part of the time it was raining), until after ten o’clock at night, when they were removed to the adjoining houses (Duff Green’s Row), Carroll Prison.
Two men, Wesley Phillips and Mitchell, were released to-day. They were captains of schooners engaged in carrying sutlers’ stores to the Army of the Potomac. They were Baltimoreans and very fine men.
Monday, March 9.—Fine day. After a rain the water drips from the window cornices or eaves of the roof, to the ground, sometimes dropping over the doorway. As some of the guards were on the doorstep they caught the drops and said the men in our room were spitting out of the window. A corporal was sent to the room and although the men explained the matter to him—said they had not spit out, and called his attention to the falling drops, the window was shut down and we are now forced to remain in this close room, with no ventilation and the breaths of thirty-seven men poisoning the air. Our keepers appear to take pleasure in annoying and persecuting those in their power, knowing they can do so without fear or resistance or retaliation.