The heavy prison gates closed around with a dull sepulchral sound, and prison life began in earnest, with Brigadier General Schoeff master of ceremonies.  The prison was in the shape of an oblong square, with the “shacks” or “divisions” on the long side and at the short sides or ends.  At the other long side was built a plank fence twelve or fifteen feet high.  This fence separated the officers and privates.  Near the top of this fence was erected a three-foot walk, from which the strictest guard was kept over both “pens” day and night.  Fifteen feet from this plank fence on either side was the “dead line.”  Any prisoner crossing the “dead line” was shot without being halted.  There was not an officer shot during my eight months’ sojourn there, but it was a frequent occurrence to hear the sharp report of a guard’s rifle, and we knew that some poor, unfortunate Confederate soldier had been murdered.  The cowardly guards were always on the lookout for any semblance of an excuse to shoot a “d——­n Rebel.”

There was a rigid censorship placed over all mail matter being sent from or received at the “pen.”  All letters were read before being mailed, and all being received were subjected to the same vigilant censorship.  They were all opened and read by an official to see that they contained nothing “contraband of war.”  Money was “contraband.”  Only such newspapers as suited the fastidious taste of General Schoeff were permitted to come inside the “pen.”  The officers and privates were supposed to be strictly “incommunicado,” but even these found means of communication.  The open, spacious courts on both sides of the separating fence, on fair days, were always thronged with men taking exercise.  A short note—­a small piece of coal was the “mail coach”—­the route was the “air line”—­the note securely tied to the piece of coal, and at an opportune moment, when the guard’s face was in a favorable direction, the “mail” passed over the “air line” into the other pen, and vice versa.  This line kept up a regular business, but was never detected.

A large majority of prisoners (officers) had some acquaintance, friend, or relative in Baltimore, New York, or other Northern cities, who would gladly furnish money or clothing to them.  Provisions were not permissible under the rules and regulations of the prison authorities.  Baltimore, especially, and New York did much toward relieving the burdens of prison life.  Such inestimable ladies as Mrs. Mary Howard, of Baltimore, and Mrs. Anna Hoffman, of New York, deserve an everlasting monument of eternal gratitude for the great and good service rendered the unfortunate Confederate prisoners.  These philanthropic ladies, with hundreds of other sympathizing men and women of the North, kept many of us furnished with money and clothing.  The money itself we were not permitted to have.  In its stead the prison officials issued the amounts of money on bits of parchment in denominations of five cents, ten cents,