This formality removed the last lingering doubt that we had of the exchange being a reality, and we gave way to the happiest emotions.  We cheered ourselves hoarse, and the fellows still inside followed our example, as they expected that they would share our good fortune in a day or two.

Our next performance was to set to work, cook our two days’ rations at once and eat them.  This was not very difficult, as the whole supply for two days would hardly make one square meal.  That done, many of the boys went to the guard line and threw their blankets, clothing, cooking utensils, etc., to their comrades who were still inside.  No one thought they would have any further use for such things.

“To-morrow, at this time, thank Heaven,” said a boy near me, as he tossed his blanket and overcoat back to some one inside, “we’ll be in God’s country, and then I wouldn’t touch them d—–­d lousy old rags with a ten-foot pole.”

One of the boys in the M squad was a Maine infantryman, who had been with me in the Pemberton building, in Richmond, and had fashioned himself a little square pan out of a tin plate of a tobacco press, such as I have described in an earlier chapter.  He had carried it with him ever since, and it was his sole vessel for all purposes—­for cooking, carrying water, drawing rations, etc.  He had cherished it as if it were a farm or a good situation.  But now, as he turned away from signing his name to the parole, he looked at his faithful servant for a minute in undisguised contempt; on the eve of restoration to happier, better things, it was a reminder of all the petty, inglorious contemptible trials and sorrows he had endured; he actually loathed it for its remembrances, and flinging it upon the ground he crushed it out of all shape and usefulness with his feet, trampling upon it as he would everything connected with his prison life.  Months afterward I had to lend this man my little can to cook his rations in.

Andrews and I flung the bright new tin pans we had stolen at Millen inside the line, to be scrambled for.  It was hard to tell who were the most surprised at their appearance—­the Rebels or our own boys—­for few had any idea that there were such things in the whole Confederacy, and certainly none looked for them in the possession of two such poverty-stricken specimens as we were.  We thought it best to retain possession of our little can, spoon, chess-board, blanket, and overcoat.

As we marched down and boarded the train, the Rebels confirmed their previous action by taking all the guards from around us.  Only some eight or ten were sent to the train, and these quartered themselves in the caboose, and paid us no further attention.

The train rolled away amid cheering by ourselves and those we left behind.  One thousand happier boys than we never started on a journey.  We were going home.  That was enough to wreathe the skies with glory, and fill the world with sweetness and light.  The wintry sun had something of geniality and warmth, the landscape lost some of its repulsiveness, the dreary palmettos had less of that hideousness which made us regard them as very fitting emblems of treason.  We even began to feel a little good-humored contempt for our hateful little Brats of guards, and to reflect how much vicious education and surroundings were to be held responsible for their misdeeds.