Recollections of a Bull Run prisoner.
Corporal Merrill, a returned Bull Run prisoner, recently returned from Richmond, is relating his experience in the Rochester Express. He indulges in personal impertinences in relation to Hon. Alex. Stevens, but in conclusion describes him as of a reserved demeanor, but agreeable in conversation, and while talking with the prisoners, seem to studiously avoid any remark that could be supposed to injure their feelings. He visited quite often.
A Treacherous editor.
We were also ‘"honored"’ with a call from the editor of the Richmond Dispatch, who came in disguise, and regaled the prisoners with plug tobacco and cigars, professed the deepest sympathy, and was exceedingly inquisitive. The day following he spread before his readers an account of his observations at the hospital, wherein he took occasion to denounce us in the most unsurprising terms. Tray, Blanche and Sweetheart joined in the demoniac howl, and for a season little else was advocated by the Richmond press than a proposition to remove ‘"laz, Yankees"’ to the coal mines, as soon as their wounds were healed, and compel them to work for their living. The editor of the Dispatch subsequently renewed his visit, and was recognized. The boys, however, professed to regard him as a stranger, but took occasion to introduce the said editor as a topic of discussion, and berated him to their satisfaction. Believing himself unknown, he bore it without remonstrance, but did not remain long, and we never looked upon his like again.
First Impressions.
We had visitors of every class. I was leaning upon the balcony one day, when an elderly lady approached me, saying that she desired to pass into the ward where the Confederate patients were confined, but she did not want to see any of the ‘"horrid Yankees."’ I had understood that the popular superstition respecting the Federal soldiers favored of horns and claws; but not calculating the effect of a sudden disclosure, I remarked, in winning accounts and with the pleasantest distortion of countenance of which my facial muscles were susceptible, that I was a ‘"beast of Ephesus myself!"’ The disclosure seemed to take effect in the pit of the lady's stomach, for after a momentary collapse she wildly flung up her arms, exclaiming, ‘"O-yah-ugh!"’ and vanished.
A Sprig of Chivalry.
On every Sunday, the outskirts of the prison were thronged with victors, who had come upon a staring expedition, and seemed amply repaid if they obtained a glimpse of the Yankees. Barnum's Museum would have passed for a side show in comparison with hospital attraction. Upon one occasion I was standing at the window with a companion, when we were accosted by a savage looking follow in a planter's hat, and very genteelly dressed, who asked me if I had had enough of Bull Run? I replied by inquiring if he was there? No, he was not. ‘"I suppose not,"’ said I, ‘"for any one who could insult a prisoner is too cowardly to go where there is any danger."’I regretted this observation, for it was no sooner uttered than the prancing fire-eater emitted the most sulphurous volley of oaths that I had heard on the ‘"sacred soil,"’--Foaming and snorting with wrath, he paced backward and forward, his glittering eye.
"In a fine frenzy rolling."
till having collected himself for a second attack, he exclaimed, ‘"Well, you belong to the Confederates now; you are in our power!"’My companions asked him if he belonged to the Confederates. ‘"Yes,"’ he rejoined with an emphasis, ‘"I do!"’
‘"Well, what does your master ask for you?"’ said the former.
This was a sad blow to the ‘"chivalric"’ Southerner, who was of a suspiciously dark complexion, and certainly could not be classed among ‘"poor white trash."’ To add to his discomfiture, the bystanders laughed as heartily as the ‘"Yankees."’ The only resource of our rabid friend was to cast out another volley of oaths, but before he could do justice to his subject he was walked off by the guard.
