He hurled at us a torrent of the vilest abuse the corrupt imagination of man can conceive, and swore until he was fairly black in the face.

He fired his revolver off over our heads, and shrieked and shouted until he had to stop from sheer exhaustion.

Another officer took command then, and marched us into prison.
We found this a small copy of Andersonville.

There was a stream running north and south, on either side of which was a swamp.

A Stockade of rough logs, with the bark still on, inclosed several acres.