After my wound was hastily attended to, I was sent east by railroad to Richmond, Virginia, and Libby Prison. The prison was an old tobacco and sugar warehouse, accommodating several hundred Union officers at the time of my residence. Many of them were badly treated, either by design or force of circumstances. For one thing, the rebels were very short of food at that time, and it could be assumed that their prisoners were faring as well as many of their soldiers in the field.

However, I must admit that I did not fare badly at all. As the only general officer in the prison at that time, I was given reasonably comfortable quarters on the third floor and a captured enlisted man to serve as striker for me. The food wasn’t good, but it was better than that served to the other prisoners and, as you know, Margaret, I was never as interested in the pleasures of the palate as I was in other gratifications.

And I soon discovered that my striker had other talents. He had been a longtime follower of the Master and he began to instruct me in the ways of serving him. I then found that there were others in the prison with similar inclinations, guards as well as prisoners, and it was not long before I had organized a group that met regularly in my quarters. We even managed to arrange for the attendance of some Richmond ladies, who participated (willingly, for the most part, although some not so willingly) in our ceremonies and pleasures. Our schedule of meetings was interrupted for a short time in March of 1864 when one of the ladies passed away during a ceremony as a result of some overzealous participation on the part of one of us. Shall I admit that it was I? Unfortunately so.

Nevertheless, with subsequent caution, we managed to resume our activities, and it was with extreme regret that I learned in May of 1864 that Libby Prison was to be closed and we prisoners moved farther south. It seems that Union cavalry raiders, under the command of General Hugh Kilpatrick, were pressing close to Richmond, and Libby Prison was no longer a safe place to hold us.

During the transfer of prisoners from the building to the railroad cars, I managed to escape. I had been supplied with civilian clothes and Confederate currency by one of our adherents, and I managed very well for several days in Richmond, residing for a time at the Spotswood Hotel, where I passed myself off as a cotton planter come to the capital to deal with military buyers.