File:The soldier's story of his captivity at Andersonville, Belle Isle, and other Rebel prisons (1873) (14777779414).jpg

Identifier: soldiersstoryofh00ingoss (find matches)
Title: The soldier's story of his captivity at Andersonville, Belle Isle, and other Rebel prisons
Year: 1873 (1870s)
Authors: Goss, Warren Lee, 1835-1925 Nast, Thomas, 1840-1902, illustrator
Subjects: Andersonville Prison
Publisher: Boston : I.N. Richardson & Co.
Contributing Library: Lincoln Financial Foundation Collection
Digitizing Sponsor: The Institute of Museum and Library Services through an Indiana State Library LSTA Grant

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h he im-agined he had partaken of. Suddenly a gleam of intel-ligence would overspread his face; he would speak ofthe prison, and say, This is a dreadful place for theboys — isnt it ? I dont enjoy myself when I have any-thing good to eat, there are so many around me wholook hungry. And then, gazing in my face, said, inthe saddest modulations I ever heard in human voice,You look hungry too, Sarg. And then, sinking hisvoice to a whisper, added, O dear ! Im hungry my-self, a good deal. Poor, poor Peter ! he soon died alingering death from the effects of starvation and expo-sure. In the lucid moments that preceded death, hesaid, as I,stood over his poor famine-pinched form,Im dreadful cold and hungry, Sarg. He again re-lapsed into a state of wandering, with the names of Mary and Mother on his lips j and the last faintaction of life, when he could no longer speak, was topoint his finger to his pallid, gasping lips, in mute en-treaty for food! Charles E. Bent was a drummer in my company, a
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When I was out, just now, he said, my sister came amitook it, and gave it to an angel. — Pack 90. CASES OF SUFFERING. 99 fine lad, with as big a heart in his small body as everihrobbed in the breast of a man. He was a silent boy,who rarely manifested any outward emotion, and spokebut seldom, but, as his comrades expressed it, keptupa thinking. I observed nothing unusual in his conductor manner to denote insanity, until one afternoon, aboutsundown, one of his comrades noticed the absence of aring commonly worn upon his hand, and inquired whereit was. When I was out just now, he said, my sis-ter came and took it, and gave it to an angel. Thenext day, as the sun went down, its last rays lingered,it seemed to me, caressingly upon the dear, pallid faceof the dead boy. His pain and sorrow were ended,and heartless men no longer could torture him withhunger and cruelty. But while the minds of many became unsettled withidiocy or insanity, there were other instances where avivid consciousness

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