Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, July 21, 1864

A weak and disagreeable state of body since last date has waived my practice of noting; but everything has been as now—"hell upon earth." We have a few dottings of this kind: the Rebel quartermaster is from Baltimore, and to counteract some suspicions of his speculating in rations, makes lots of promises when he comes in of late. One of our fellows got thick with him and told him where to find a tunnel, for a plug of tobacco. Soon after he came with a squad of negroes armed with feeling rods and spades, found and filled it. It had baffled their scrutiny for three days. The man who revealed the secret betrayed himself and that evening was hunted out, given a clean shave of his head and on his forehead was tattooed the word. "Traitor." Next day rations were ordered withheld till those who did the job reported at the gate. I don't know that anyone reported but rations came the day after leaving us a vacuum of one day.

Petitions have been circulating praying our government for relief. I did not sign. They are sanctioned by Rebel authority, intended to produce political effect and to leave the impression in the North that the prisoners condemn government policy in reference to exchange, therefore to serve a purpose of its enemies. It abounds in dictation and censure, suppressing facts.

Reports of movements in north Virginia are true. Sherman is up to Atlanta; Johnston relieved by Hood. They think Johnston, fights on the principle that "He who fights and runs away will live to fight another day." Federal cavalry at Montgomery and Taladega, Ala., and at Macon, Ga., only 60 miles away, which causes great excitement here. The Rebels are fortifying. Droves of negroes are brought here from plantations and put to work. Troops and citizens, all sexes and sizes, flock in and quarters are being built, making a ville of the place. We look over to it from high ground and reflect that it is one of the new born of Secessia. A man near the stream cut his own throat today. Several hundred Rebel soldiers are shipped by rail for Macon. Three men brought in whom the Rebels suspect were scouts. They were put in the stocks several hours, but gave no information. James English of our company, of New York City, died July 17th.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 92

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Wednesday, July 23, 1864

Weather severely hot as it has been learned that a break by the prisoners is planned, and warns them for three weeks. A supply of sumach buds must have arrived and are given out freely to be steeped and drank for scurvy. A sergeant belonging to a work squad outside was shot by a guard, wounding him in the arm and hip and wounding another man, He took hold of the guard's gun. Some on parole get too intimate with Rebels; value principles less than extra rations. That such men have to be shot to remind them that they are dealing with traitors does not so much matter. While washing my shirt at the creek this afternoon the centry [sic] fired, the shot whizzing by my head as I stooped, striking in the bank and spattering mud in the faces of four of us. Lots of shooting has been done by guards for over a week and several men have been killed and wounded. Limbs are amputated at the hospital for slight injuries, The arm of one of our men hit by a sentry a few days ago was promptly sawed off. Another tunnel found; dogs are seeking a trail. New forts are plainly to be seen. Negroes work all night. Reported fighting at Atlanta and that some of our forces are expected at Macon.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 92-3

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Thursday, July 24, 1864

Before day the dog horn and the yelping of hounds was heard. Men on parole about the depot had attempted to escape. Two trains of wounded from Hood's army passed here. Rebels report a victory, then admit a loss. Frederick, of my Company, died this afternoon. He has been ailing but we did not think him dangerously ill. He was carried out at 5 o'clock and is the 51st man who has died since 7 a. m. in prison.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 93

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Sunday, July 26, 1864

Attended meeting this morning near the big pine trees in the southeast part of the pen, preaching by Sergeant B. N. Waddle, of 126th Ohio. Some of those active in carrying on the meetings are Rev. T. J. Sheppard, B. N. Waddle, M. H. Miller, 22nd Mich. Cavalry, and Robert H. Kellogg, of 16th Connecticut Regt., Thomas A. Cord, U. S. Infantry, also Boston Corbett. Some who show extraordinary talent as singers, are J. O. Turner, David Atherton, 65th N. Y., John W. Kerr, L. H. Cummings, Massachusetts; G. W. Pomeroy and others. There is often a chorus of nearly a hundred voices, some evenings, of fine singers.

Called on W. H. Harriman in the afternoon. He is so affected with scurvy that he cannot stand. The doctor tells him that they have no medicine that will cure; he is expecting to go to the hospital tomorrow; bade us good-bye, grasping our hands, in tears. He said: "Ever hoping for the best I shall not forget you and Thompson. We shall not meet again; I hope I shall have better treatment, at least better fare. If I am exchanged I will write your people, you do the same." (I heard nothing definite from Harriman until July, 1865, when his sister, Anna E. Harriman, wrote me from Zanesville, Ohio, that he died in October, 1864).

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 93

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Monday, July 27, 1864

Prostrated with severe pains, chills and fever which lasted most of the night. Getting a small piece of beef and rice in lieu of meal we have a fine dish. Griffith has sold a three quart tin pail, given us in Virginia by Wesley Norwood, for $5 U. S. currency.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 94

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Tuesday, July 28, 1864

News from Atlanta conflicting; papers, so far as we know, admit the repulse of Hood, then claim a victory. Later statements rather choke victorious editors. Hood feels compelled to fight and not leave the town. Sherman intends to give him the whipping Johnston has all summer been running away from, if he makes the stand.

My complaints are unabated; are attended with weakening pains which at times prostrate me. Rations irregular; often missing a day or two.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 94 

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Wednesday, July 29, 1864

Had Job greater patience? Here are men of true mettle or we might see them knocking at the gate to swear fidelity to foes. To lie down is to submit to be eaten by lice and rot. When strength fails, such is the lot of all. "All that a man hath will he give for his life." But what have we to give? A great deal of money will get a little flour from Rebels, such is their love of money. But their lack of love for humanity feeds us husks and loathsome things. We are in prison and they visit us with torments and reproaches; we are athirst and they give us to drink of water tainted with filth and excrement; sick and afflicted and they torture us; weak and weary and they give us to rest on the sand filthy and full of breeding vermin; shelterless and they give us no roof; lacking raiment and they take much that we have.

A man shot dead, the ball passing directly through his head back of the ears, while kneeling near the dead line innocently looking at something. He had just come in and was unwarned.

I bought an egg for 20 cents, a small biscuit for 25 cents for supper with proceeds from the tin kettle sold.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 94

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Thursday, July 30, 1864

Breakfasted on half of a small biscuit and an onion. Prisoners arrive; a crowd gathered when a cannon was fired over the camp.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 94

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Friday, July 31, 1864

Several shots fired during the night, one from a cannon, the shot screaming overhead. Yesterday and today's arrival of prisoners is about 1,200. White flags are put in the center of the prison to designate ground on which crowds must not assemble. If they do they will be fired upon. Accordingly men are constantly at the guns.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 94

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Friday, July 1, 1864

MOVE TO PRISON ANNEX—HOW WE CELEBRATE.

The addition to the stockade is finished. An aperture, ten feet wide, is left in the old wall at the north of the old ground. Thirteen thousand are ordered to move through (my detachment is one designated) in three hours. The weather is very hot and that mass of men moving without order over ground already crowded with those who are to remain, is horribly fatiguing. This time is given us to get on the ground or no rations will be given these detachments; so we strove at the walls like a crowded flock of sheep escaping through a hole in a fence, being obliged to jump a trench five feet deep, three wide with a bank of dirt on the opposite side. Never did men work more earnestly for a prize than we for a little course Indian meal to appease our terrible hunger. But it smelt so good, the green stuff that had been growing, that we felt rejoiced and thrilled at the sight of Nature's face yet undefiled, but soon to be desecrated by the foulness of disease and decay. A score of men fell into the trench in clambering through the stockade, and had to be helped. Fragments of trees lay about over which men strove to obtain fuel and shelter. The average number of deaths per day is estimated at 70.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 82-3

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Sunday, July 3, 1864

New prisoners report favorable progress by our armies. Yesterday there was a powerful rain lasting ten hours. In this part the soil is red and hard, surface flat, and water stood from two to four inches deep. We stood up all night to keep out of it. Those too feeble to do this, were drenched and drowned. It was with great physical and mental effort that I was able to endure the strain as I have been feeble several days.

Four crazy men have been wandering through camp several days. I noticed one today without any clothing, having been naked for two weeks. He lay within four rods of the south gate, arms extended, exposed to the sun, in full view of everybody. His whole body was blistered, his countenance frightfully distorted, giving utterance to unintelligible sounds, frothy matter oozing from his mouth and nostrils, his eyes appearing blind. Another prisoner shot through the hips last night by a guard. One lay near the brook delirious, burning with fever; another near him was unable to speak; one-half buried in the swamp, covered by a mass of maggots and flies. Those who brought him out said his eyes, ears, nose and mouth were filled. Near the sink, in almost every passage, lay half-rotting skeletons, evincing all the signs of deprivation and symptoms of pestilence, and yet alive. All of this and I have not been out of my usual course. Neither do I mention those who have a slight covering to turn the sun. There are hundreds who would require the best treatment to be saved, and perhaps could not be saved. In this absence of medical treatment we resort to simple means to cure ourselves. A very limited supply of red root and white gum bark can be found, on our new lot, and pine bark, which are used to check the almost universal complaints, diarrhoea, dysentery and urinary troubles. I observed several men today had buried their limbs to the knees, as a remedy for scurvy. But the truth is there is no remedy for this condition under the circumstances. Never could we imagine anything so horrible! We might write volumes, and fail to describe the horrible reality. Our people would disbelieve it, and "pooh" as if it were a fabulous tale. Tonight some have a season of prayer near us. One or two most excellent prayers were offered, prayers that would grace pulpits, bearing an earnestness of the soul's devotion. It seemed so much like home, like steadfast faith and adoration, a reflex of the all-reaching Providence, that we felt it good to be there; that hearts are still alive, the finer sympathies not entirely stifled. How much better to see men in such communion, seeking consolation from heaven, than to see them worse than brutes, or fighting demons! No rations today.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 83

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Monday, July 4, 1864

Eighty-eight years this day since our fathers gave to the world that important document setting forth the immortal truth that all men are born free with equal rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, and declaring the independence of these states from foreign domination—the Declaration of American Independence. On these great truths they founded a Republic. Today their posterity are in mourning for the loss of sons. In painful expectations, in earnest hope and fear, their eyes are turned toward two mighty armies contending on the same soil, one for those principles and that Republic, the other battling to maintain a dying rebellion inaugurated to overthrow the work of their hands, and to found a government on principles the reverse. Nothing was ever more plainly asserted in both words and deeds than this. Here within the scope of my vision, are 26,000 men suffering for the great sin that has cursed our people, offered a living sacrifice that it may not be destroyed but saved free from the contaminating influence that has stained our fair emblem—the boasted emblem of liberty; that the Union of the States shall not be broken by the hands of Treason; the foul assassin of Liberty! O, that the day of glorious triumph may soon come and with it the right, and stop the horrid evil of war! Let the demon that actuated it be destroyed! Apropos to the day are these beautiful lines from Longfellow, which Thompson recited:

* * * Sail on, O Ship of State!

Sail on, O Union, strong and great!

Humanity with all its fears,

With all the hopes of future years,

Is hanging breathless on thy fate!

We know what Master laid thy keel,

What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,

Who made each mast, and sail, and rope,

What anvils rang, what hammers beat,

In what a forge and what a heat

Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!

Fear not each sudden sound and shock,

'Tis of the wave and not the rock;

'Tis but the flapping of the sail,

And not a rent made by the gale!

In spite of rock and tempest's roar,

In spite of false lights on the shore,

Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee.

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,

Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,

Are all with thee,—are all with thee!

Have had but little rest for two nights, owing to the storm and severity of my complaints. No rations since the 2nd. Two hours of terrible thunder storm. At the Sutler's "Shebang" I purchased a small wheat biscuit for 35 cents. This is my feast (after two days' fast) for July 4th, 1864.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 84-5

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Tuesday, July 5, 1864

We moved back to the old side, five of us, unbeknown to Rebs, it being improved by the removal of so many to the new part, and to get near the well we dug, for we were fifty rods from water. About 3 p. m. the mule teams came to the north gate; the boys cry "rations," the first issued for over sixty hours. I know no other reason for this than that the first night after the new part of the prison was occupied men carried off timbers of the old north wall for wood or for huts. On July 2nd Capt. Wirz directed that no rations be issued until every stick was replaced. He was heard to say on the 3rd, at the gate, that he would "learn the G-d d--n Yankees that he was in command and if the sons of b-----s died like hell, there would be enough left." I paid ten cents for a small rotting apple; it was good. The 6th, Sherman's men report Johnston whipped at all points; the 8th, behind the Chattahoochee, Sherman crossing on his flank; Grant's, Richmond in danger; Lee's cornbread line troubled. The Southern slave empire must come down. Billy Decker, prisoner since October, a Belle Islander, "Pinch's" old playmate, is stopping with us. He belongs to the 1st U. S. dragoons; is from Steuben county, New York.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 85

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Thursday, July 7, 1864

Cool nights, hot days. My complaint not so bad. I have a painful cough. From three to six shots fired nightly by sentries, so common as not to be of note.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 85

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Friday, July 8, 1864

Prisoners arrive, 300, taken at James Island, S. C., the 3rd, belonging to the 52nd Pennsylvania, also a squad from Virginia. Fierce lightning and thunder in the middle of the day, the sun shining brightly, and scarce a cloud in the sky. A Rebel paper admits the country open to Grant, and Lee in a strait. "All we want is to be left alone," said Jeff Davis at his inaugural. His wants will grow, like "bull pen" lice.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 85

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Saturday, July 9, 1864

SCENES AMONG SICK.—RAIDERS CONVICTED.

Strong these men had been;

In vast army camps had duty done;

Had useful service in field and fort performed,

Some also on the sea and river fleets.

Strong on marches and in battles' strife;

Strong in perilous trenches behind belching guns

On skirmish lines at opening frays,

And bravely stood the shock of charging lines

That brought the battle's final test.

—From The Vision of North.

More than a week since a sick call. The Doctor came to the gate this morning; and many sick go forward. Crowds are carried who cannot walk and are laid over a large space. Still in a bad state and quite weak, I go, hoping to get a prescription, for "camphor pills," which sergeants of "nineties" draw, after the examination. Doctor comes in and looks them over hastily, going among them some, touching a few as though he felt squeamish. Two hours would be required, at least, to get along with the "nasty job," the doctors think, and only wink at them at that. I could not endure the hot sun, the awful stench, the sight of those sickening objects. I soon lost faith, if I had any, that I should be healed by a slight hem touch. I came to doubt, upon viewing the condition of so many others, whether I needed anything. More curious than charitable charity is a cripple here, begins and ends at home. I looked them over, and was not curious.

"Here pity doth most show herself alive

When she is dead." —Dante.

There were stronger forms and more robust constitutions than mine, weaker than infants; more loathsome than if they were dead; so they soon must be once a part of the bone and sinew of the Union army! What ten times worse than ghastly expressions! What pitiful complaints! What peevish, unmanly cries, calling for the doctor to "Come quick, for Christ's sake, quick!" constantly begging for water! Aghast, I stepped hurriedly, shamblingly, but carefully over those wasted, corrupted bodies, once beautiful caskets of immortal spirits, and hastened here and sit down with the boys under the shade of the blanket, my heart sinking, is it not hardening with gloom? I shudder while I write lest my fate shall be like theirs.

"What did you get, North?" they asked.

"Nothing; didn't try."

"You ought to."

"It wouldn't amount to shucks."

"Perhaps it would; at any rate, get all you can out of the Confederacy."

"That would do."

"Then go back and try."

"That makes me think of a man standing all night in the cold to freeze an ugly dog. The soundest man in the bull-pen would be sick to stand in that dying crowd an hour."

"That's what's the matter."

Tonight some of the sick are still at the gate; no attention paid, but ordered left till sent back. Many of the worst cases were admitted to hospital, a large number carried back by friends. Out of those who remain, six have died during the day; others on the verge of death. Doctors claim they have no means to care for the sick, therefore neglect them, let them rot rather than parole and send them to our lines. They are not admitted to the hospital, which is little better than this den, until in a condition of death; nor are we allowed to go out for brush and timber to build shelter here though thousands would volunteer for that service and the timber is all about us.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 86-7

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Sunday, July 10, 1864

Hot, showery day, renders the condition of the sick more appalling. It is believed that more than two-thirds of the 700 men at the gate in response to the sick call, are victims of starvation. Healthful action of the stomach and other organs of the body is destroyed; the food supplied imparts no nutriment though appetite craves it. Men eat whole rations ravenously, while unable to walk, which is not retained, sometime two minutes,—if it is, it is an internal fire and blood and decayed flesh come with temporary relief. Others loathe it, strain to vomit at sight, and so remain till death. Those not so afflicted are more or less infected with scurvy, dropsy, urinary disorders or these combined.

It is announced tonight that six raiders have been convicted and condemned to death and are to be hanged tomorrow in the prison shortly after noon. The names of these convicts are Cary Sullivan, of 76th N. Y. regiment; William Collins, alias Moseby, 88th Pennsylvania; Charles Curtis, 5th Rhode Island artillery; John Sarsfield, 144th N. Y.; Patrick Delaney, 83rd Pennsylvania; A. Muir, alias Jack the Sailor, U. S. navy. Sullivan's given name, announced by the regulators as Terrence, was carried on the company roll as Cary. It is understood that these men were professional bounty jumpers, going out for the money they could get, and were captured outside of the line of duty. We know Sullivan deserted our regiment while it was forming for expected battle, on the night of October 10th, 1863, and was captured by Rebel cavalry that was flanking our infantry a few hours prior to the beginning of Meade's great retreat to Centerville, Va. To carry out this grim project Sergeant Keys and immediate assistants have got the use of timbers and tools and secured a few carpenters to build a scaffold.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 87

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Monday, July 11, 1864

HANGING THE CHIEF RAIDERS. SCENES AT THE EXECUTION.

Building the scaffold for executing the principal raiders, began at 9 a. m. a few yards within the dead line near the south gate. By 1 p. m. it was finished and the crowd assembled everywhere a footing could be had in view of the scaffold. Looking from my position near the scaffold to the north on the sloping ground I beheld the most densely packed crowd I had ever seen. The south side if possible was more densely packed. They came from every extreme portion of the stockade until they could get no further. Evidently every man that could be was on his taps. A multitude of probably 30,000, all astir on so small an area is seldom if ever seen. The regulator squads, armed, with clubs, formed a square around the scaffold to keep back the crowd. It was feared by leaders that an attempt would be made, by associates of the doomed, to destroy the scaffold and release them. Sometime was employed in attaching halters to the beam and adjusting nooses, then all was ready. Shortly after, the gate opened and Capt. Wirz, dressed in a white duck suit, upon his gray horse, accompanied by a Catholic priest, followed by the guard with the doubly doomed war prisoners. They were six dressed only in undershirts and drawers and heads uncovered. Capt. Wirz addressed us in broken Swiss nearly as follows:

"Prisoners, I deliver these men to you in as good condition as I found them. I have had nothing to do in convicting them of crime of which they are accused, except to lend my assistance for their and your protection; nor do I charge them or believe them guilty, and shall have nothing to do with the execution of your sentence. You have tried them; I have permitted it. You have convicted and sentenced them; if they are hung, you, not I, will be responsible for it. I deliver them to you; do with them as you please, and may God be with them and you. Guards about face; forward march."

All but the priest moved out and the gate closed. This address was delivered from a paper in his hand said to have been' prepared by Lieut. Davis or some officer of the post.

The prisoners had doubted the earnestness of the proceedings up to the moment of the egress of Wirz and the guard. However, their arms had been pinioned, and when they looked at the gallows the dreadful truth struck terror to their hearts. Their executioners were in position and without the least delay pressed each man to ascend the scaffold, Curtis, a strong man, shouted in a strong, rough voice, "By God, boys, we will never go up there!" At the same time fiercely wrenching away, loosing his arms and throwing them about his head, dashed madly through the regulators' lines rushed through the weak crowd to the stream, plunged into the swamp, sometimes to his hips, but was retaken by two pursuers before reaching solid ground. Meantime the crowd took panic, supposing the rescue of the condemned was attempted and in the confusion jostled and trampled one another down. Their fright was greatly increased on seeing the Rebels fly to their guns. The crowd surged back like a heavy sea, trampling hundreds of the weaker under feet and leveling flimsy tents in the rush, which had hardly ceased before the fugitive was brought back trembling and cowering with fear. The others had been left standing, but now all were pushed up the steps to the trap by the executioner, talking and wailing unintelligibly while the priest begged fervently for them to be spared. As the nooses were put over their necks, and the bags, used for caps, were ready to be drawn over their faces, with what awful woe they crouched and pleaded for life. The priest, at their request essayed to address, not only those in charge but the vast crowd as well, uttering an appeal and urging that the final disposition of the matter be left to the crowd. Alas, of no avail. The witnesses of their crimes by thousands, as well as their condemners stood before them and their clamor for the execution to proceed overwhelmed the frantic effort of the priest. They believed them guilty of direct murder, the means of suffering and death of many by depriving them of scanty clothing and fare; by theft and in having cruelly beaten them. The guilty clamored for mercy that they had denied to innocent, helpless men. Yet willingly would most of us spared them to be dealt with by law, but with their lives we knew no safety.

Who has seen the soul's anguish pouring out in tears? This was the agony of guilt. It fired in the wild eye, flashed on the cowering cheek, darkened on the crazed brow and poured in frenzied tones from quivering lips. If the executioners were moved by these appeals they knew their duty and performed it. The firm answer was, "No you must die." Then said Collins, to the priest:

"Then do pray for us, pray long and hard!"

He prays but Collins breaks in vehemently.

"I am guilty, but not of this; I have been an awful man! I have not had a fair trial," and many other sentences, and all shout together, "Yes, yes!" Sullivan broke in:

"Neither am I guilty, but”—and he groaned, "I did not expect ever to come to this." "Nor I," all shouted in concert.

Their exclamations were so loud, continuous and distressing, that I heard nothing of the prayer. Several times the sack was removed from their heads as they feelingly urged to be prayed for, until the executioners had decided not to repeat it, when Curtis asked for one moment. Speaking loudly, he asked:

"Have I a friend within hearing?"

A voice answers, "Yes, it is me, Curtis."

"Is it you, Tony Ryan? Come up here."

Executioner—"No, he can't come up."

Curtis—"Then I have one request, Tony, it is my dying request. I want you to keep my watch and send it back to my father-in-law in New York City."

Tony—"I will do it, Curtis."

Curtis—"I am ready. This is a hard sight, boys," and he groaned.

Sullivan and Muir both said: "May God bless our souls!"

The executioners stepped from the platform, the props were pulled, the traps fell. As I looked upon the scene I saw that Collins had snapped his rope, and fallen to the ground. He was restored to consciousness, and though he plead that as God had saved his life once, he should be spared. But he was forced upon the raised trap, the noose readjusted while the other five were in the throes of death before his eyes, and swung off, partially kneeling, an impulsive movement all made. It was indeed a hard sight; six strong men sent from life for crimes against fellow prisoners. I almost think I am hardened because I looked upon them with the composure that I did. This is the breaking up of a gang organized in the Richmond prisons.

But there were interested spectators outside the prison, the soldiers standing in their rifle pits with arms ready; the artillerymen standing at their pieces ready to pull the ledyard cord at command; and from 1,500 to 2,000 people, composed of old men and women of both sexes and all colors, from several miles about, who in their anxiety to see, had edged from positions assigned them, in front of the artillery and infantry lines, and were thrown into panic as they supposed they were to fire upon the prisoners.

It is told of Muir that he was acquitted of a crime in Dublin, Ireland, though he had confessed guilt to his priest. Since conviction here he told the story to an Irish friend, adding that after acquittal the priest told him that death by hanging would be his doom; that the priest's words had always haunted him; though he sought to avoid acts tending to their fulfillment, he often lost self-control and went wrong. To him he confessed complicity in crimes charged and proved against raiders.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 88-90

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Tuesday, July 12, 1864

DREADFUL DAYS DRAG ON—NIGGER IN THE EXCHANGE FENCE.

A man shot through the body and killed while dipping water from the stream several feet inside the dead line. Two sentries fired.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 90-1

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Wednesday, July 13, 1864

Corn bread, as served here, is to me what a single feather was to Paddy's head on a rock and what he thought more would be if supplied. Irrepressible conflict is brewing between hunger and filling up. Putting plenty of water in the mush is common with some who want something to fill up. We get nothing but rice tonight.

I find Harriman and tent mate Phillips bad off with scurvy, it having assumed malignant form and the flesh of their limbs has become lifeless. Harriman was looking at photographs of home friends and spoke of them with tenderness and a tone keyed to despair. He has ever before been cheerful and quickly responded to expressions of hope and cheer. We find a word of cheer comes not amiss. I trust that "each does well in his degree." But time comes when condolence takes its place and when that cannot remove the fact. How little of either have we now! The downcast soul is robbed of the blessings of consolation from kindred when wafted from this den of sin to the realm beyond. Are its celestial features tainted with this morbid air; is it enfeebled by this languor? God's unbounded provision is the universal remedy for every woe. This we must feel as never before, or be insensible to ourselves. Harriman then related his strange dream which, to him, was extraordinary, in which he beheld immediate conditions, and the blackness and terror of the supposed "river of death" which soon brightened into a bordering stream, before which all misery, terror and darkness vanished, and he beheld the mystic world. He regarded this as a prophecy of a change soon to come to him and said he had no terror of what might come; it had given him strength ineffable. He then briefly sketched his life, his aspirations and disappointments, which are of so much interest to me that I carefully noted them for future writing.

Saw a paper of July 1st; most notable item: Democrats postpone their convention to be held in Chicago, August 29th. Made the acquaintance of a namesake, John H. Northrop, a nephew of the celebrated lawyer, Henry Northrop, of New York; a prisoner nine months, clothes nearly gone, is lively though he has symptoms of scurvy. The evenings are beautiful; religious meetings are being held in various parts. There are some remarkable singers who attract the attention of outsiders.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 91