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   views of humanity. This menu of starvation, issued by the United States Government, was good enough for helpless prisoners of war. Just think of this bill of fare:

Breakfast, four rotten hardtack crackers.

Dinner, one-half pint sandy soup.

Supper, all the wind one could inhale.

Our medical treatment was the acme of cruelty, rendered by a red-headed cow doctor, whose only remedy, no matter what your complaint, was an opium pill or dose of jamaica ginger. This redheaded doctor always reminded me of a country cross-road cow doctor whose knowledge of medicine was culled from a patent medicine almanac, and his practice justified the conclusion. The colonel of the 54th Massachusetts (negro) Regiment, his officers and niggers, were regular daisies. I recall one little sawed-off lieutenant who often called the prison roll; or rather took the