are trying to make all the money we can out of the South, we are still faithful in our allegiance to that old flag.

"I moved on, and was taken into a room, filled with bunks. Feeling sleepy, I asked which was my bunk, and getting into it, woke up.'

I never realized this dream until April, 1862, seven months afterwards, (when I met several of these traitors, who had been "running with the hare, and pulling with the hounds." One of them I saw on a Federal gun-boat. General McCown had employed him at Island Ten, to watch the movements of the enemy, giving him a thousand dollars for the service. He accepted the money, and gave the Federals his information in regard to our condition,) when on entering prison number 3, mess 42, camp Chase, I was requested by Captain Frank McLean, to make myself at home. Bed-time approaching, I surveyed my apartment, and asked the courteous captain, which is my bunk? Like a shock, it flashed over me that I had seen the same bunk in my dream, and I got into it a strong believer in dreams. The members of mess 42, were Captain Frank McLean, a gentleman of much polish and solidity of character he is of the cavalry, and a brave soldier; Lieutentant Porter is a modest, intelligent gentleman; Captain Bob Moore is a hearty, out-spoken, generous soldier; Dr. Dixon is an able physician, thorough gentleman, of gentle mien, yet with sufficient vigor to make his mark in the scientific world; Captain Joe Walker is from Columbia, Tennessee, is a good liver, a genial companion, and although with some mauvaishonte, has quite a pleasant address; Lieutenant Joe Irvine is an agreeable, obliging gentleman. These gentlemen formed a pleasant society, and although comparative strangers, we lived like brothers, while tabernacling in mess 42, prison number 3, camp Chase, Ohio.

To say that Moody, that fanatic had charge of the pen, is enough to convince all who know him, how "well we were treated." We were searched on our entrance, from hat to boots, as if we had secreted stolen goods. Eighteen of us confined in a room about fourteen by eighteen feet. and our cooking and washing to be done in the same

room, and by dove-tailing, eighteen of us wedged into six bunks. In our prison, number 3, containing nearly a thousand prisoners, we had two sinks, about ten steps from the cabin; they were uncovered, about ten feet in length, five in width, with a pole on each side, two inches in diameter. The depths of the sinks, I am happy to say, I was not so unfortunate as to fathom, which some poor devils did. The cisterns were below the cabins, in the centre of the muddy street, and below the grade of the sinks, consequently, upon the principle that all fluids will find their level. The water of prison number 3, was not as good as Marah's wells. In the second cabin from ours, there were several cases of small-pox, and I am constrained to say, re.nained long enough, (in spite of our appeals to our custodians to remove them to the hospital,) to spread infection, had not an order of the government removed us to Johnson's Island, where we had better scenery, with rations of an umbelliferous nature, (food, physic and poison,) in Pierson's blue beef and sour bread.

One day, Moody exhibited his carcass upon the walls of our pen, and with stentorian voice, yelled "men," to which we responded by going to the doors of our cabins, when lo! "another Richmond" appeared upon the field, in the shape of Brownlow, the irrepressible; he, who while he was willing "to fight rebels until Hell froze over, and then fight them on the ice," yet never drew a sword or shouldered a musket, but made collections of sympathies and substantials, all over the North, and played his financial cards, all trumps, the Federals paying him as the British did Arnold, while they despised him for his ingratitude.

The prisoners, who were present that day, will remember his looks, cadaverous and sinister; his hat pulled fairly down over his eyes, he looked, in the presence of those gallant Tennesseans, the abject creature that he has proven himself to be. He made a speech, and we gave him a patient hearing, on finishing which he stepped one side, to make way for Moody, another light and "specimen brick" of the church militant, which has lost so much caste during the war by its patronage of such "wolves in

"Men," says

sheep's clothing," as this patent preacher. the immaculate, "do you want to hear preaching next Sabbath, there is a powerful good preacher from Columbus, who will preach to you, next Sabbath, if you are willing?" (Old Brownlow still looked on, grand, gloomy, and peculiar, with knowing thoughts, and villainous expression.) "Come, what do you say, men ?" are you willing?" exclaimed this clerical charlatan. A general response," aye, aye," with one negative from an unconverted sinner in a distant cabin, whose ideas were on a ring he was making, who exclaimed, "no." I immediately jumped upon a stick of wood, and remarked, Colonel Moody, excuse that gentleman, he thought the invitation to preach was to Brownlow. The saint wilted, Moody's face grew blacker, the prisoners cheered, and I had invitations to dinner for a week.

One of the handsomest men in prison, attempted his escape, but failed. He shaved off a magnificent beard, and trimmed a head of luxuriant, ambrosial locks, and in citizen's clothes smuggled in, with a colporteur's pass, purchased, started for the gate with a basket of tracts on his arm, the remainder of the numbers supposed to have been distributed to impenitent rebels. Had he moved five minutes sooner or later, he would have been under the broad canopy of Heaven, without the walls, but as General Prim has it, "inflexible destiny is stronger than the will of man," and old Moody happened to pass the gate as the guard ushered the pretended colporteur out. "Good morning, my christian friend."

"Good morning, Colonel Moody."

"Have you a pass

"Oh, yes.

?"

"Let me see your pass. I'm in hopes you will convert these rebs. Your name is

"It's in the pass, colonel."

"I asked you your name, sir."

"Well, colonel, I told you it was in the pass."

"Well, sir, what is it ?"

This was too much for reb, and his patience giving way, the rebellious spirit broke out.