I have before spoken of the Rebel passion for bright gilt buttons.

It used to be a proverbial comment upon the small treasons that were of daily occurrence on both sides, that you could buy the soul of a mean man in our crowd for a pint of corn meal, and the soul of a Rebel guard for a half dozen brass buttons.

A boy of the Fifth-fourth Ohio, whose home was at or near Lima, O., wore a blue vest, with the gilt, bright-trimmed buttons of a staff officer.

The Rebel Surgeon who was examining the sick for exchange saw the buttons and admired them very much.

The boy stepped back, borrowed a knife from a comrade, cut the buttons off, and handed them to the Doctor.
"All right, sir," said he as his itching palm closed over the coveted ornaments; "you can pass," and pass he did to home and friends.
Captain Bowes's merchandizing in the matter of exchange was as open as the issuing of rations.