The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1872-11-12
AndersOnyille To-day 4.

Ine f1rSt thlng that strikes the traveller as
he approaches this memorable place is the
old flag suspended one hundred and eighty
feet in the air, waving gracefully to the breeze
and standing sentinel over what remains of
thirteen thousand seven hundred and sixteen
departed faithfal soldiers for the Union.
have made 1t my business to make extern
sive inquiries before reaching this place, and
have heard condemned, in unmeasured terms,
the course pursued by Wirtz and his small
ring, who, they say, were not actuated by
any love for the lost cause, but by desire to
profit from the misery of those under their
authority. Every soldier that came into pris-
on had money and many, watches and rings,
all of which found its way into the hands OF
a few outside the stockade. Principle never
governed Wirtz. There was total want of
moral sense. He never knew a generous
emotion; cold and heartess, he thought only
OF gain and selfish qualification, But he is
dead; peace to his ashes. The cemetery is
under the Immediate charge of John Maloney
an Irishman, who, in one year, will have
served in the army, under the stars and
stripes, a quarter of a century. He was
among the faithful betrayed by Twiggs in
Texas. He loves the old flag as he loves his
life. 1t does one good to see this old veteran
suffrse with tears, as he recounted his hopes
and fears during the severe struggle through
which we have just passed.
The cemetery is beautifully situated, just
north from the stockade, on gently rolling
land, embracing in the inclosure thirty. seven
acres of ground; neat, substantial fence sur
rounds it,and within this an Usage hedge is be-
ing cultivated, that will ultimately serve as a
fence, and also add much to the beauty of the
place. Fine carriage avenues are being con-
structed, many of which are completed; trees
are planted and are growing finely on the
sides of them, and in few years the top,
will meet, creating dense and cool shades
making delightful drive. Five thousand
five hundred feet of su1facedrains have
been laid along the avenues. The
soil washes so easily here that
brick drains are necessary. There are en-
ployed here, beside the superintendent, four
colored laborers and two mules, all of whom
are kept constantly busy. A comfortable
house is erected at the entrance gate for the
superintendent, where he always keeps a
spare room for any chance visitor who may
happen to pass this way, which is not very
often, as the place is too secluded and remote
from the great lines of travel, and then South
ern Georgia, with its chills and fever, has no
attractions for a visitor, or even the native
citizen. The dead were laid in trenches side
by side, and if they had any article of cloth
ing worth wearing our own men would take it
to cover ttheir nakedness, or keep out the
-.
nothing often land nearly always) but then
naked frames. A neat headboard of wood
now marks their last resting-place, with
name, age, regiment and company. And yet
there are many marked unknown, and will
always remain so until the great muster-day
in that eternal world above.
The first man buried here was j. Swarner, a
German, company III, I'd New York cavalry
died February 27. 1864. The last man that
died was r. Hanson, company f, 1st Wiscon-
sin Infantry died April 28, 1S65-a period of
fourteen months. During this time 49,
brave soldiers passed away, nearly one thou
sand a month. The largest number dying
any one day was on the 26th day of August,
1864, when one hundred and sixty-six were
buried. The most painful spot to visit was
the graves of those executed in the stOckade
by our own men for the murders and violence
they had committed. The gallows is still
partially standing, an additional monument
of the accumulated miseries our men suffered.
The superintendent is making good use OF
Wirtz's bath-tub: filling it with dirt;- is
prOpagating flowers to ornament the grounds.
After visiting the cemetery we went to the
stockade. 1t is fast falling into decay, and in a
year or two will all be down, and everything
that marked the suffering of our soldiers will
have passed awav. The grounds within the
stockade that was once so bare OF every shrub,
and even root, for was informed that the
soldiers would dig for the tiniest root to Sc
cure fuel to warm their aching limbs, is now
grown up with scrub oak and bushes, until
You can hardly get through them. The dead
line, just seventeen feet from the stockade, is
so far decayed that but few traces of it are
left. Here many a poor victim has bitten
the dust, it may be from chance misstep or
a determination to end his misery, There
are about thirty-fiye wells still remaining that
were dug with spoons and cups, while rope
made of blankets was used to draw up the
dirt and afterwards the water. They are
from sixty to eighty feet deep, and while
peering into them, side entrances may be dis
covered that led some to light, outside, and
freedom. Every prisoner here doubtless re,
members the providential spring that opened
near the dead-line, on the hillside, duIinS 80 :
violent thunderstorm one autumn night, ana
continued to flow SO freely as to supply star nesr-
ly the whole camp with declGs fras,v wstHr stiII
and d" at 'II If puenched my thirst, and also in
the the at stream o. = where so many have washed