"Where did he get it?"
"Off the foot of that bed."
Wells sprang to his feet as quickly as though he had been galvanized, kicking over the chair on which he had been sitting, and exclaimed:
"My coat! sure as——! worth eighty dollars! The villain!" then pressing his head between his hands, sat down again, but, as if thinking better of it, ejaculated, "Well, if that ain't a cool joke!" and burst into a loud laugh, which ended the scene.
There are some facts connected with the Union sentiment in the South, which I would like to publish, if I dared; but I cannot do it in full, for it might be the means of exposing persons who befriended us, to the vengeance of the tyrant rebels. I will only say that there exists in Atlanta a society of over four hundred members,[9] who are still devoted to the cause of union and liberty; who endure in patient faith all the cruel persecutions heaped on them by the slavery-loving aristocrats who now rule their beautiful land. From members of this society many prisoners as well as myself, received money and other needed articles, which were of the greatest value to us. These were given at great risk to the donors, for there to give a Union soldier money is a serious criminal offence. One man I know was confined for four months on the mere suspicion of having aided the Shiloh prisoners in this manner.
Sweet potatoes were very abundant in Atlanta, and with the money Union friends supplied us, we bought a great many, roasting them in the ashes of the large fire-place that made our room so comfortable. They added materially to our rations, and rendered our living here more tolerable. In fact, had it not been for that universal Confederate pest, with which all, from the least to the greatest, seemed supplied—sometimes termed the "rebel body guard"—and from which, for the want of clean clothes, no exertions of ours could free ourselves, we might have passed our time not unpleasantly.
We still continued our devotions in the morning and evening, and trust that God blessed them to us. We met with occasional hindrances. Some of our own party seemed to consider that our release from the dark cells of a criminal prison did away with the necessity of continued prayer. The Confederates also annoyed us very much by interruptions, while thus engaged in seeking help from above. On these occasions, Wells was our friend. He declared that he could not stand praying himself, and so invariably stayed away; but that if it did us any good, we were welcome to it, and ought not to be disturbed. The opposition we met with was of short continuance. As soon as they found us firmly resolved on our own course, they did as all cavilers do in similar circumstances—let us alone. Thus even there we enjoyed many pleasant moments, which will ever be remembered as a green oasis in the parched desert of prison-life.
While here, the Confederates wanted some of us to enlist in their army. They tried particularly hard to get the regulars, Wells declaring that he would rather have the two, than any half dozen of his own men. They pretended not to be unfavorable to the scheme, but delayed complying with it for a time, to see what the ultimate prospects of an exchange might be.
The cartel of exchange had been agreed upon long before; yet these men, who had no charge against them, were still held. They believed that it was because they were with us, and that the rebels feared to let them go, as they would most certainly convey to our government intelligence as to our whereabouts, condition, and treatment. This view appeared still more probable, when I learned, since returning to Washington, that the Confederate government had officially denied hanging any of the party. They have never yet acknowledged it.
The time wore wearily away here, as it had done before. The delay, since the death of our friends, had now been so long extended, that we began to believe that our lives might be spared. This conviction was strengthened as the months rolled on.