"Say, messmate," said a mischievous prisoner, "don't eat too much, for these Yankees are cannibals, and, when they have fattened their prisoners, they eat 'em."
Poor Diggs pushed back his plate, sick at heart, and commenced pacing the hall in front of his cell. Seeing a soldier on guard duty outside, he went to the grating and called to him:
"Can I speak to you?"
"I reckon you can," was the answer.
"Do you know what's going to become of me?"
"I think, sir," said the soldier, gravely, "that you will be in h—l before morning."
"Oh! they do really intend to kill me," cried Diggs, and running back to his cell, he fell upon his knees and tried to pray.
"If ever I get out of this," he vowed, "I'll be a preacher. I was made for a preacher."
"Well, now, who cares if you are?" said a fellow prisoner, roughly, who was playing cards with three others at the table. "You needn't be disturbin' honest men, who hev no desire for sich things. Keep yer jaw and yer preachin' to yerself!"
"How can you be so wicked," said Diggs, "to carry on such unholy games, when you know that the judgment awaits you?"