Summary

H. Clay Trumbull The Captured Scout of the Army of the James

Oh, how wearily the hours dragged in Andersonville! Shivering, unsheltered, in the cold nights of rain; sweltering, all exposed, under the noonday's sun; cramped in the seething mass of the close-packed stockade, where half-naked men strove with each other for the last garment from the body of their latest dead comrade; weighed down with the poison-laden air of the malarial swamp; knowing no relief from the gnawings of hunger in the soul-straining processes of slow starvation; needing Christian courage to hold back from the relief of the dead-line
Source: Gutenberg

H. Clay Trumbull The Captured Scout of the Army of the James

God speed and shield the flying boy! At the next station, the guard of the train gave the alarm, and soon a pack of five blood-hounds, with their mounted brutal keepers, were on his track, and in full pursuit. Bravely but vainly Manning sought to retain the freedom he had won at such fearful risk. Plunging into the recesses of a dismal swamp, he had brief hope that he should evade his pursuers; but soon the baying of the hounds was in his strained ears, and about him were the ringing echoes of the on-spurring guard. His hiding-place was speedily surrounded, and his hope of escape cut off.
Source: Gutenberg

H. Clay Trumbull The Captured Scout of the Army of the James

There were long and weary weeks for him of final trial in racking pain—the whole inner system destroyed by the foul air of swamp and dungeon, and the scant or vile food of stockade and jail, while the still young and naturally vigorous outer man refused to be yet wholly crushed. There were dreams of prison-life, hunger and [58] thirst ever unsatisfied; and seasons of agony in struggle for breath, as with slow, wasting flesh, and cold, clammy brow, the patient sufferer whispered with livid lips, in unfailing trust, "I want nothing; I wish for nothing
Source: Gutenberg

Get perspective with Kwize: daily news enlightened by great literature