class="smcap">Shoes Worn and Hickory Stick Used by Capt. Langworthy
on His Trip North and Still In His Possession

I kept the turpentine very carefully hoping that some time I might be able to escape and might possibly need it.

While in Macon my boots gave out and I purchased a pair of plain rough darkey shoes, paying $60 in Confederate money for them, and kept them in reserve for use in case I should be so fortunate as to get outside. One of our number, who was a major in the regular army, started a secret society, which I joined, and which soon grew to hundreds. The object of the organization was for mutual help. It was organized as a regiment, with companies, etc. The major was the colonel.

One day in July a detail was ordered to be ready to move at a certain hour the next morning. They were ready, but waited for an hour or more. The major and many of our new order were in the detail, including myself. While waiting, several of our organization exchanged places and thereby got in so that when we marched out our society was well represented. We were put on board a train of box cars and started east, arriving at Savannah about nightfall. We were unloaded and were there in the yards an hour or two. While waiting, the major said to us: "I have learned that we are going North, I think to Charleston. When we get about so far from here we will be only about twelve miles from our men at such a place on the coast. I will be sure to get in the front car and will detail officers to be in command of each of the other cars. They will detail men to look after the guard in their cars. At the proper time I will swing a lantern out of the side door of the front car and swing it around as a signal for you to overcome the guards in your cars. Take their guns and care for them and when the train stops jump out and overcome the guards on the top of the cars, and we will then go back and overcome those in the rear car and then march for the little station on the coast."

Jail Yard, Charleston, S. C.

There were four or five guards in each car and about the same number on the top and one group commanding the rear car. We all sat on the floor, including the guards. I was in command of one of the cars and watched very sharply for the light, but it did not show up. The major had learned that there was suspicion of something being done and did not think it best to take the risk. We all knew apparently when we approached where we should see the light, and as it did not show up the men soon began to tumble out of the side doors. Upwards of one hundred of them got out of the cars in a comparatively short time. The guards on top fired at them. I do not know whether any of our boys were hit or not, but within a few days after our arrival at Charleston all of them, except four or five, were with us, showing the efficiency of the organization for the recapture of escaped prisoners.

After the men began to tumble off, we stopped at the first telegraph station and a message was sent. The officers in that locality turned out promptly with their men and dogs, came up the railroad until they found a fresh trail, which one crew took, the rest going on until they were after them all.

We arrived at Charleston the next morning, being the first prisoners who had been brought there. We were brought there in the hope that we might help to protect the city from the continuous cannonading of our troops on Morris Island, which had driven the people from the lower part of the city. We, of course, were put in that part, first in the jail yard and from there to the workhouse, a large building in the same block used as a jail for the colored people. From there we went to Roper's Hospital in the same block, where we were given comfortable quarters. Those three buildings and the medical college occupied the block. The back yard of the hospital joined the back yard of the jail.

We put in our time evenings watching the shells from Morris Island; would see a bright light as they started at the horizon and as they went up and up until apparently nearly over our heads and would then come seemingly straight down and usually explode before they struck. Apparently the men on the island knew when we came and where we were, for while the cannonading was regular each night, never a shell or a piece of one came to our quarters, but plenty of harm was done in the city all the time.

After we had been there for quite a while, one day one of our comrades coming in, said to me: "I have a letter for you. I was in the back yard sitting on the ground when something dropped down by my side, apparently coming from the jail yard. I looked and there was a small stone with this tied to it." It was a small scrap of paper addressed to me, from one of my sergeants, saying that he, his brother and others of Company "E" were in the jail yard. That aroused me some. I went to the gate and asked the officer in charge of the guard if he would kindly send me, under guard, to go around to the jail yard. He said: "Why do you wish to go to the jail yard?" I told him some men of my company who had been in Andersonville since last April were there and that I wished very much to see them. After a little he told me to come again in a half hour. I did so, and accompanied by the guard, was sent to the jail yard, and of the first prisoners I met I inquired where the Eighty-fifth New York boys were and was told they had been removed that morning to the race course outside of the city. "Had they all gone?" I inquired. They thought they had. I told them I was very sorry as men of my company were with them. While we were talking, one of them said: "Why, there are two of the Eighty-fifth boys over there sitting on the ground." I went to them. Each had a raw Irish potato in his hand scraping it and eating it raw for the scurvy. I looked them over carefully, but could not recognize them. I said: "Boys, are you from the Eighty-fifth New York?" They looked up and said: "How are you, captain?" and jumped up, embraced me and said: "Captain, didn't you know us?" "I am sorry to say I did not," I replied. "Why, we are So-and-So of Company 'F,'" they said, which was by the side of my company. They were men whom I had known for nearly three years, yet were so changed that I could not recognize them.

I left much disappointed at not finding my men, and thought about it continually. The general in command of the Confederate forces at Charleston was a Roman Catholic, hence his church people, and especially the Sisters of Charity, had free access to the hospitals, prisons, etc., and did much good work.

Roper Hospital, Charleston, S. C.

A few days later I noticed some sisters in our building. I went to one of them and said: "Sister, have you been out to the race course?" "Yes," she said, "We have just come from there." "How are they?" I asked. "Very, very bad," she replied. "Sister, can't you tell me something more about them?" I continued. "That is about all," she said. "You poor men have suffered enough, but not what they have; they are very bad." "Sister," I continued, "there are some of my men there whom I have not seen since they went to Andersonville prison last April. I would like to learn all I can about them." "They are