soul, sans heart, sans taste, sans everything that is noble and true. I had asked a parole, for the State of Ohio, knowing they were granted in a score of cases, and it had been strongly recommended by that polished gentleman, and humane Union soldier, Inspector General Wright, of the State of Ohio, and approved by Governor Todd, of the same State, whose consistent kindness to prisoners is proverbial. And on being transferred from camp Chase to this prison, I had forwarded the parole to Edward Everett, of Massachusetts, for his influence, as the superintendent of our prison would not honor any recommendation of Governor Todd, referring me to the Secretary of War. In a few days, I received the following from Mr. Everett :

"CHICAGO, May 14th, 1862. "DEAR SIR :-Your letter, inclosing General Wright's parole, having been forwarded to me at this place, was received by me this evening. I will, by the next mail, address a letter to the Secretary of War, inclosing General Wright's parole, and requesting the Secretary to ratify it.

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Respectfully Yours,

"EDWARD EVERETT." The immaculate gave an equivocal reply. Again the honorable gentleman applied-and a similar answer from the scarecrow of the war department. The third time the kind-hearted Everett asked for my release, and the final answer of the bear was: "No special paroles granted until the rebels lay down their arms, as the arrangement for a cartel has been broken by their bad faith, by thus telling a lie; and snubbing the distinguished son of Massachusetts, whom he detested because he was a gentleman. Were it not so, the favor would have been granted, out of courtesy to Mr. Everett's eminent position, and even if a political opponent, among gentlemen, the courtesy was doubly due little points, however, that Stanton is not supposed to know anything about. It was not a fling at me, for I am too small a fish for this mighty Leviathan to swallow, Plutarch said: "the difference between a man and a beast was, the latter had no knowl

edge or feeling of a Deity." If Stanton felt or knew there was a God, he would act differently, "the Beast."

Of all the damning outrages committed by our enemies on the Southern people, one of the most high-handed, is the arrest of private citizens, of whom several hundred are driven into the pen to-day, like sheep led to the slaughter. Some taken from their beds, others from their desks, and ploughs, and some from the bar, and pulpit, hurried off, half clad, without warning or a suspicion of a charge against them. I asked one, of the several old men, in camp Chase, a man at least seventy-five years of age, with hoary beard and tottering steps, as he was wandering listlessly around the prison yard: "How came you here?" "I can't tell. I was taken from my home and brought here, I don't know what for. I did no one harm, and am very much distressed about my people; they will not know what has become of me." Others did not know why they were similiarly treated, nor could any of us tell them. Among the arrivals, this morning, is the distinguished Dr. Hobson, of Kentucky, one of the most eminent divines of that State, who preaches us a sermon

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to-morrow.

Lieutenant Gibson, of the Eleventh Arkansas Regiment, Volunteers, was murdered to-day by a sentinel, whom, I learn, did the shooting wilfully and maliciously. An order, that would have put a Caligula or Nero to the blush, had been published by the hypocritical and contemptible Pierson, to the effect, that all prisoners should retire to their quarters at retreat, which was at sundown, the only period of the day, that it was possible to be comfortable, crowding us into a suffocating room, to the number of fifty in ours, three bunks high, and reaching to the ceiling, two in a bunk. One tin pan for us to wash out of; and the straw of our beds changed, not at all in our room. I don't know of other messes. Yet they say we are well treated. Lieutenant Gibson, as all of us. obeyed the orders of the petty despot; yet this poor fellow fell a victim, as some one must be shot, at intervals, to advertise the crew, (a majority of them) of that Hessian battalion (Hoffman's,) so they could play the feather-bed

warriors, while the gallant soldiers of the United States were at the front. It may have been different at other pens, but I never knew an old soldier to maltreat a prisoner. Courage and humanity, are synonymous, and the coward is always cruel. Lieutenant Gibson had been spending the afternoon with a comrade, some twenty steps from his quarters, and on hearing the signal for retreat, hastily returned to his room, and had one foot on the threshold, when the assassin hailed him with the expletive, “You d-d rebel, go back to your quarters." "I'm going to them now; these are my quarters," stopping for a moment to answer the sentinel, who had his gun leveled at him. "Go back to your quarters, I tell you, you d-d rebel.” Lieutenant Gibson, whose body was inclined towards the sentinel, turned to step in, and without warning, was shot down; the entire charge, a double one, entering his body. This act of cruelty and crime, places the miscreant, who has proved himself a willing tool, in the line of promotion.

Since writing the above, we learn that the author of this damnable outrage, has been promoted to a sergeantcy. And they say, we are well treated. Heaven save the mark!

We

There are but few of my fellow prisoners who are not interested, when the sound of "big gate" attracts them to the doors and windows. It may admit "fresh fish,” an appellation given new comers, or the wood wagon; possibly some angel in female form, that comes to administer to the wants of the sick and dying. The sutler, milk and ice men all come through the big gate. came through it, and we hope soon to go out through it's portals, as 'tis the living alone who shadow this gate; the dead are hauled out the side gate. The grass seems greener beyond the big gate than within, and we would risk our blood upon its lintels, to once again taste the air of freedom that so invitingly bids us make the attempt without the prison walls. The mail with its letters and remittances from loved ones; the newspapers with their many fictions, all come through this opening. And now, while writing this, the stentorian announcement is made "big gate," and we go with the rest to see what comes