of these wounded attempted to move away by any means, generally by
crawling off, our men without exception brought them down by a bullet.
They let none crawl away, no matter what his condition.


A YANKEE SOLDIER

As I turn'd off the Avenue one cool October evening into Thirteenth
street, a soldier with knapsack and overcoat stood at the corner
inquiring his way. I found he wanted to go part of the road in my
direction, so we walk'd on together. We soon fell into conversation.
He was small and not very young, and a tough little fellow, as I
judged in the evening light, catching glimpses by the lamps we pass'd.
His answers were short, but clear. His name was Charles Carroll; he
belong'd to one of the Massachusetts regiments, and was born in or
near Lynn. His parents were living, but were very old. There were four
sons, and all had enlisted. Two had died of starvation and misery in
the prison at Andersonville, and one had been kill'd in the west.
He only was left. He was now going home, and by the way he talk'd I
inferr'd that his time was nearly out. He made great calculations on
being with his parents to comfort them the rest of their days.


UNION PRISONERS SOUTH

Michael Stansbury, 48 years of age, a seafaring man, a southerner by
birth and raising, formerly captain of U. S. light ship Long Shoal,
station'd at Long Shoal point, Pamlico sound--though a southerner, a
firm Union man--was captur'd Feb. 17, 1863, and has been nearly two
years in the Confederate prisons; was at one time order'd releas'd by