when they, chiefs of mess 3, say revolute, the " sans culotte" without the walls, had better rescind the order that is tending to promote discord, or Bacchus will be once more enthroned upon the debris of Johnson's island grapes, a cheaper process, than paying our meek and rascally steward two dollars a bottle for swill.

"Sourkrout's" arrival is heralded with unfeigned pleas

ure.

He is our milk and vegetable vender. "Dutchy" 'has had the trade of the prison since our arrival, and, of course, is feathering his nest. I don't know that his milk is like the Dutchman's, who made his fortune selling half and half, and on his return to the Faderland, while counting his money on shipboard, the bag was seized by a monkey, and carried aloft, "Jacko" taking out the coins, and dropping one into the ocean and one on the deck, alternately, The Dutchman, when sympathised with, replied, "dat ish right, what come from the vater, he give to the vater."

This milk question reminds me of an incident, related to me by that prince of good fellows, and greatest living wag, Henry Dollis, of Memphis, Tennessee. A milk man, who furnished the steamboats with the lacteal fluid, was remonstrated with, on the thinness of his milk. He would hand the steward ten or twenty dollars, and the milk next day was thinner. At last an inspector came around, with a hydrometer, testing all milk sold on the river. The steward excitedly informed the milk man, that his milk only raised twenty-three-"what is requisite," twenty-seven. The next day the test was applied, it rose to thirty-two. "The heaviest milk I ever tested," says the inspector. "How did he do it, Dollis?" "Simply added one pint of molasses and another gallon of water, to the can that held four gallons mixed, with an additional twenty dollars." How can a man buy hay, and haul water, to dilute with, and sell pure milk? 'Tis impossible.

Our Dutch vender doesn't pour water in his milk, but milk in his water. He remarked to us, a few days ago, that his 'cow had calved the night before; dat de milk vas goot and strong for soltiers dis morning. "Hans was in great distress on yesterday. He understood we

were to be exchanged, and with frantic ejaculations exclaimed, "Mein Gott, mein Gott, vat can I do if dese brisoners leave; I usht gone and buy twenty more cows. Mein Gott, mein Gott." I believe the old scoundrel would keep us here for ten years, if he could make fifty cents a day selling us milk. These Dutch are pretty heavy on suffering humanity, particularly on secesh prisonOur Dutchman will get rich, selling us strong milk, go to the Faderland, become a Burgmaster, and look upon all milk venders with suspicion and disgust.

ers.

"Cans't thou administer to a mind deceased."

A good physician should know the power of mind over matter, and treat the former as carefully as the latter.

When Jack Handy* goes into a sick chamber, with his irresistible manner, he places his cane carefully in the corner, his hat is then handed to the servant, his gloves are carefully drawn, and if unexceptionable, are placed upon the chair or stand, then the gay, yet accomplished Jack, shows his fine teeth, shakes his luxuriant, really handsome head of curly, coal-black hair, and with a smile, the well dressed and fresh looking Jack Handy approaches the bedside of the sufferer, who by this time by the physician's tact has had time to recover from his nervousness, caused by the announcement of his arrival. The pillows had to be arranged, the coverlid respread, a little cologne spread here and there, the relatives or friends take position near the patient, all is ready, and when Jack reaches the patient's pulse, his little studied arrangement has given him time to settle down his pulse to a beat conformable with the action of the disease. Jack looks at the patient's tongue, feels his pulse, comprehends the diagnosis in an instant. If a purgative is needed, he finds out whether the subject is accustomed to calomel, oil, jallop, or magnesia, and then if either has been the habit, the other acts more ready;

*Captain Handy died on his plantation, in Mississippi, 1867. Our friend is gone were the stern alarm of war no longer affrights, nor the sound of "big gate' attracts to the window, yet his ringing laugh is even now vibrating through memory's corridors.

some are monomoniacs on "blue mass," others on salts. Jack Handy is aufait on these distinctions, and from the fact of being a fine judge of human nature, is a fine physician, can tell a yarn with a better grace, and laugh more heartily at its detection, than any man living, is one of the proprietors of the "grape-vine line" and "prison telegraph." He was captured at Fort Donaldson.

Dr. Woodbridge, although a loyal citizen of the United States, is worthy of remembrance by myself and fellowprisoners, as a kind, considerate and humane officer, and like his good wife, has much of the milk of human kindness in his composition. He has been quite attentive to our wants, and has our grateful acknowledgments.

Some eschew medicine, and take their text with Shakespeare," throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it." This is well when men are in good health, but when ill, obtain a good physician, a man of science, not a charlatan or quack one, of will, strong perceptive faculties, tact, and address. "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure," is trite, but does not justify an individual in continually dosing himself with ounces, aforesaid, hoping thereby to ignore a necessity for pounds. The Italian tombstone has it, "I was well, wanted to be better, here I am." It is like a man beginning with scruples and winding up with drams.

Many depreciate the use of medicine. This is wrong. If we lived like the Aborigines, hunted, slew, and cooked, the food we eat, drank of the limpid stream, and were in constant action, then we might have no use for medicine, but when we live artificially, eat late suppers, surfeit on grand dinners, make swill-tubs of our stomachs, dram-shop signs of our probosces, all tending to keep our minds constantly irritated by ideas foreign to our happiness, it seems plain enough that these artificial diseases require artificial remedies, hence the necessity for the physician, of which class, we have seventeen in our prison, many of whom are among the most eminent surgeons of the South.

Dr. J. M. Jackson, surgeon of the Forty-second Tennessee Regiment, has immediate charge of the hospital, and is a man of great force of volition, and of a high order

of surgical talent, a deep thinker, and of strictly temperate habits.

Dr. Joseph E. Dixon, of the Tennessee Battalion, is of much nobility, acts and thinks simultaneously, of unflinching nerve, a polished gentleman, showing the usage of good society.

Dr. F. Grant, Thirty-second Tennessee, is a quiet gentleman, and from his care and nicety of arrangement, will make an excellent family physician, one who will inspire confidence in a sick chamber with his calm presence and positive treatment.

Dr. A. H. Voorhies. Nature made Voorhies a surgeon and physician. Education and commingling with the best society has formed him a gentleman. His quiet deportment and impressive urbanity, would assauge much' of the severity of his patient's affliction.

Dr. J. M. Taylor, Twenty-sixth Mississippi, an able practitioner, and well-informed gentleman.

Dr. O. Becker, a gentleman of versatile accomplishments, a fine musician and composer, and a man of science. Dr. Becker, although a foreigner, is enthusiastic in the support of the Confederate cause.

Assistant Surgeons, Thomas M. Nichols, Ninth Battalion; J. J. Dumont, Fiftieth Tennessee; W. B. Mills, Fiftieth Tennessee; J. J. Mills, Twentieth Mississippi; M. S. Neely, Tennessee; N. J. Rogers, Twenty-sixth Mississippi; W. G. Owens, Graves' •Battalion, Tennessee; H. Griffin, Fiftieth Virginia; B. M. Croxton, Graves' Battalion; C. H. Edwards, Thirtieth Tennessee. The above surgeons and assistant surgeons are men whose proclivities for the excitement of camp and field have led them to enter the army; a fine opportunity being thus furnished for the development science. A large number of amputations, and the various characters of wounds and contusions that are under constant treatment, are fine subjects aiding the cultivation of new systems that will tend to the amelioration of pain, and present more cases and experiences to the world of medicine. It is a melancholy spectacle presented to the world the present war-the meeting of Greek with