soldiers of the Past, were drawn up, drilled, and put through all kinds of bodily exercise.
We were Prisoners, I said, for three weeks.
One morning, at the end of that time, a message came to us from the "Headquarters of the Army." This was now their official style and title. The Chief ordered the immediate attendance of the Suffragan and two Fellows of the College of Physicians.
At this terrifying order, I confess that I fell into so violent a trembling—for, indeed, my last hour seemed now at hand—that I could no longer stand upright; and, in this condition of mind, I was carried—being unable to walk, and more dead than alive—out of the House of Life to the Headquarters of the Rebel Army.
CHAPTER XVI.
A MOST UNEXPECTED CONCLUSION.
I confess, I say, that I was borne in a half-fainting condition from the House of Life.
"Farewell, Suffragan, farewell!" said my Brethren of the College, gathered within the South Porch, where a guard of armed Rebels waited for us. "Your turn today, ours to-morrow! Farewell! Yet if any concessions can be made—"
Yes—yes—if any concessions could be made, only to save life, they might be certain that I should make them. The two Fellows of the College upon whom the lot—they drew lots—had fallen, accompanied me, with cheeks as pallid and hearts as full of terror as my own.
A company of twenty men, armed, escorted us. I
