One day a member of a Virginia regiment, on guard on the pavement in front, deliberately left his beat, walked out into the center of the street, aimed his gun at a member of the Ninth West Virginia, who was standing at a window near, and firing, shot him through the heart, the bullet passing through his body, and through the floor above.

The act was purely malicious, and was done, doubtless, in revenge for some injury which our men had done the assassin or his family.
We were not altogether blameless, by any means.

There were few opportunities to say bitterly offensive things to the guards, let pass unimproved.
The prisoners in the third floor of the Smith building, adjoining us, had their own way of teasing them.

Late at night, when everybody would be lying down, and out of the way of shots, a window in the third story would open, a broomstick, with a piece nailed across to represent arms, and clothed with a cap and blouse, would be protruded, and a voice coming from a man carefully protected by the wall, would inquire: "S-a-y, g-uarr-d, what time is it ?" If the guard was of the long suffering kind he would answer: "Take yo' head back in, up dah; you kno hits agin all odahs to do dat ?" Then the voice would say, aggravatingly, "Oh, well, go to ---- you -- -- Rebel -- --, if you can't answer a civil question." Before the speech was ended the guard's rifle would be at his shoulder and he would fire.

Back would come the blouse and hat in haste, only to go out again the next instant, with a derisive laugh, and, "Thought you were going to hurt somebody, didn't you, you -- -- -- -- ---- -- -- ----.