a few light blouses, pantaloons, and shirts. Drawn up in line were from 75 to 100 men almost naked, one a boy of about 17 years, thin and delicate. Some wretch informed the adjutant that this boy had a jacket hid away in his bunk. The officer, a large man, jerked the boy out of line and threw him sprawling on the frozen ground. Terrified and hurt, the boy could only give stammering and incoherent answers to the officer's questioning, who unmercifully kicked and stamped him so that he was unable to walk to his quarters.

I think the two men you mention as being fatally shot through from behind were the two from my mess who met with that fate. They were detailed one morning for work outside the prison. They were brought in about noon and taken I think to a hospital tent, where some hours later they died. Knowing they were mortally wounded, they said that one of the guards made a threat to kill a rebel because a relative of his had been killed at the front by the rebels. Becoming alarmed, they complained to the sergeant that they were afraid that this man would do them harm, who however assured them there was no danger. The guard, awaiting his opportunity, got them in line and fired a ball through both.

As to eating rats, your statement can be sworn to by any survivor of that horrible pen. Every rat that was caught in Camp Morton was killed, cooked, and eaten by the prisoners. Was the dog your mess ate the adjutant's dog for which a number of men were tied up by the thumbs? This was December 27, 1864. On this day my father, looking out of headquarters, saw those men tied up by the thumbs to trees in the yard, just standing on the tips of their toes, and in great agony. Their shifting about, their groans, and their livid faces shocked him horribly. He had just arrived with a special pardon and order of release for me, signed by the immortal Lincoln at the intercession of Secretary Stanton, my father's schoolmate at Steubenville, Ohio. That is how I remember the date so well. My father lived then in Bellaire, Ohio. He was very poor, and could send me but little money. In September, 1864, I wrote him that my clothes, shoes, and hat were about gone. My mother sent me a coat, pantaloons, two shirts, two pairs socks, a pair of shoes, and a hat. They allowed me to have one shirt, the pantaloons, one pair of socks, and the shoes. The hat, coat, and other pair of socks I never got. When I entered Camp Morton I weighed 180 pounds. On the night of my arrival home I weighed 123 pounds. I had no disease; it was starvation pure and simple. For years past my weight has been over 200 pounds. The infernal mania for shooting into the barracks at night I could not understand. In closing let me say that if the good people of this country could have been convinced of the truth of one half of the tyranny, starvation, cruelty, and murder going on inside that fence, they would in their righteous wrath have leveled the whole thing to the ground, and probably would have visited lynch law upon those who were concerned in this great wrong.

Statement of Dr. J. L. Rainey, a practising physician of Cottage Grove, Henry County, Tennessee :

The attempt to refute your narrative, “Cold Cheer at Camp Morton," will be utterly futile. There are yet living hundreds of men who know that your statement falls short in details of many cruelties inflicted upon prisoners there by soldiers and officers, and many privations which were maliciously inflicted. As an individual I had little cause to complain (as I was made a dispensing clerk in the hospital), but I am bound in honor to say that no man can prove that there is a shadow of falsehood in your statement.

I well remember the man who, for attempting to escape, was tied up to a tree by a cord around each thumb, standing on tip-toe. The surgeon1 came in next morning and ordered him cut down. The man could not move his arms after he was cut down, until he was rubbed and stimulated. I was in the presence of the two men who were shot from behind and mortally wounded with the single ball, and heard the statement made by one of them that they were murdered. George Douglass, of Columbia, Tennessee, member of my company, who was nearly blind, was taken out on detail and shot. The guard said he tried to escape. He was so nearly blind that he could not have gotten home without aid had he been set at liberty. I examined the body at the dead-house. He was shot in the back, and it was murder.

The man shot in No. 7 for making a light to give a sick comrade some medicine had his arm amputated at the shoulder, and died. I was in the room when the operation was done.

The dire extremity to which some were reduced caused them to steal and to resort to the slop-barrels. I saw a poor, ragged, and emaciated prisoner ravenously devouring pieces of meat out of the slops, so rotten that it was thick with maggots. The eating of rats and dogs was well known.

I am not willing that it should be thought that all were like Baker, who to my knowledge did many more cruel things than you mention. Dr. Charles J. Kipp on taking charge made many valuable improvements in the care of the sick. I shall ever respect him as a kind, able, and honorable physician. Drs. Todd, Parr, Dow, Bingham, and Lindsey I remember with gratitude. Lieutenant Haynes, a one-armed officer, would not tolerate cruelties when he was on duty. I was released October 25, 1864, by order of President Lincoln, at the request of Andrew Johnson, then Military Governor of Tennessee.

Statement of Dr. W. E. Shelton, a practising physician of Austin, Texas:

I was confined at Camp Morton about June 1, 1863. In July or August I was assigned to duty as physician to the sick in quarters. My duties consisted in going through the barracks, prescribing for those not sick enough for the hospital, and sending the seriously ill to the wards. The sick were well treated. The treatment of prisoners in a great many instances was brutal and inhuman. 1 Dr. W. P. Parr. See Dr. Parr's statement.

During one very cold spell several prisoners froze to death, and many others died from the effects of cold. I have read "Cold Cheer at Camp Morton," and am prepared to swear that it is true.

The Rev. W. S. Wightman, pastor of the Southern Methodist Church, Bennettsville, S. C., writes:

I read with feelings of peculiar interest your most graphic description of the indignities, sufferings, and deaths that make up the history of that dreadful camp. I was taken to Camp Morton in July, 1864, and left there for exchange March, 1865. How I managed to stand the starvation and cold of that awful prison is something wonderful to me. My emaciation when I reached home was so great that my family scarcely recognized me. I can substantiate what you say in your article the harsh treatment, the brutality, the horrible meanness. I suffered the pangs of hunger protracted through weeks and months, and of cold in those dreadful sheds for lack of bedding and clothes. I am witness to the fact that many a poor fellow perished from cold and starvation. The Rev. W. H. Groves, a Presbyterian minister at Lynnville, Tennessee, who was in Camp Morton in 1864 and '65, says:

Dr. Wyeth graphically and truthfully describes Camp Morton. Every paragraph has the impress of truth, and will bear the scrutiny of the searcher of hearts. Think of men emaciated and exhausted by hunger, many of them with no clothing but the thin suits in which they were captured, standing that bitter winter cold - the long hours from dark till daylight, with only a single blanket, upon a bed of planks in an open cattle-shed. To strike a match to look at a sick or dying comrade was to be shot by the guards. Our rations were so meager that men became walking skeletons. No bone was too filthy or swill-tub too nauseating for a prisoner to devour. The eating of rats was common. I knew one of our men who was hung up by the thumbs for eating a dog. Some of the officials were very cruel, Baker in particular. God removed him, and we trust that he is in heaven. My feet were so badly frozen that I suffered intensely and could not wear my shoes for over a year. Our food was excellent in quality, at least the bread. We only got a small loaf a day. The meat was given in small quantity. We got about one third enough to eat. The mortality in consequence of short rations was very great. Two of my mess of five died. Dr. Wyeth has written no fancy sketch. It is what every living Confederate who was in Camp Morton the last year of the war will corroborate and which

God will witness as true.

W. V. Futrell, orange-grower at Ozona, Florida, writes:

I can indorse all you say in regard to prison life at Camp Morton. Was there about twentythree months, and suffered from hunger constantly. I was witness to the murder of one prisoner and the wounding of another by Baker. I saw dog-meat served at fifteen cents' worth of tobacco per pound. Many were frozen to death for want of proper clothing and cover. My partner froze at my side one night, and I did not know he was dead until next morning. The eating of rats and of scraps from the swill-tub at the hospital was of common occurrence. I have peeled potatoes for the hospital cook just to get the peelings to eat. I harbor no feeling of malice to any one, yet the officers and guards at Camp Morton were very cruel and allowed prisoners to starve.

The Rev. Samuel Tucker, preacher in the Cumberland Presbyterian Church, Springfield, Arkansas, says:

Was confined in Camp Morton from March, 1863, to February, 1865. I can fully corroborate your statements concerning the treatment of prisoners. There were fifty-one men in the squad I arrived with, and thirty-two of these perished there. I have seen the prisoners struggling with each other to devour the dirty matter thrown out of the hospital kitchen. Rats were eaten, and I have seen dog-meat peddled out by the prisoners. The murdering of prisoners, clubbing, tying them up by the thumbs was known to all there. I could put the entire piece of meat given me for a day's allowance in my mouth at one time.

The vast bulk oftestimony, which fully sustains the charges of criminal neglect on the part of those whose duty it was to treat prisoners of war humanely, I cannot publish here for lack of space. The statements of Messrs. B. P. Putnam, Tullahoma, Tennessee; B. F. Erwin and T. W. Cowan, Gadsden, Alabama; S. H. Russell, Huntsville, Alabama; J. T. George, Clerk of the Court of Graves County, Kentucky; James A. Thomas, Nashville, Tennessee; John F. Champenois, ex-Mayor and County Commisioner, Shubuta, Mississippi; N. M. Smith, Caswell, Mississippi; R. M. Guinn, Alvarado, Texas; I. C. Bartlett, Louisville, Kentucky; J. N. Ainsworth, Smith County, Mississippi; A. W. Baxter, Fayetteville, Lincoln County, Tennessee; G. T. Willis, Greenville, South Carolina; S. W. Jacoway, South Pittsburg, Tennessee; J. A. Guy, Childersburg, Alabama; W. H. Carter, White County, Tennessee, and T. E. Spotswood, Fairford, Alabama, are, among others, important and interesting, and with much other valuable material will be reserved by me for future publication.

John A. Wyeth.

HE one thing about country newspapers that seems to be always true is that they are never satisfactory to the people who support them. Yet there is nothing so hard to kill as a country newspaper, however unpopular it may be. A paper that really does not amount to much ordinarily may amount to a good deal if an intruder comes into its field, and gentlemen looking for locations should be careful of starting new papers in towns for no other reason than that the people encourage them.

An ordinary business is rated a failure if it does not pay. There are plenty of country papers that have not made a dollar in twenty years, but the publishers hold on with foolish stubbornness, though they might succeed in some other calling; they seem to imagine that a little red man will wriggle up through their office floors some day, and make their "good will" as valuable as they believe it to be. I have heard many men say they were certain they could not succeed as doctor, lawyer, merchant, dentist, or what not, but I have never heard one say he could not succeed as an editor, particularly as a country editor. Really good newspaper men are scarce in the country, for a business man and a writer must be combined to insure success; but there is no lack of newspapers, and as half the people seem to be waiting to give the business a trial, I feel certain that the supply will always be considerably greater than the demand.

Although as a nation we are supposed to have unusual confidence in newspapers, I shall always believe that there is a strong undercurrent of opposition to them among our liberty-loving people. If all the papers in a town unite in favoring a measure, a large proportion of the people are sure to oppose it. The three papers of a certain small city once united in opposing a candidate for an important office, but the people elected the candidate by the largest majority ever heard of in that region. The candidate was elected to fill an unexpired term, and when he came up for the same office a year later, the papers all agreed not to mention his name, and the objectionable candidate was defeated. I have known so

many editors to fail in forcing the people into a particular way of thinking, that I am inclined to believe it is safest modestly to follow the best public sentiment. One of the best newspaper men I ever knew, and who had the reputation of being always original, once confessed to me that most of his matter was gleaned from others. He cultivated the bright men in the community, and his note-book was oftener used in taking down opinions and suggestions than in gleaning news items. I have heard of a bright fellow who went to Dakota with a printing outfit, but being unable to find a suitable town, he took up a claim. The crops failed, and he issued a small weekly paper from an imaginary town, giving it a name, and creating men and women, and institutions. His comments were very breezy, as I can well believe, since he was responsible to no one; somehow it is so much easier to say, "It serves him right," than it is to say, "It serves you right." He criticized imaginary plays at imaginary theaters; he criticized imaginary judges of imaginary courts; he ridiculed an imaginary society, and generally hit off popular delusions so well that his paper attracted attention, and a town was finally built on his farm. But this is a very rare case, even if it be true. The newspaper usually follows civilization, and the newspaper usually follows public opinion.

The longer a saying has been accepted and used, the greater the likelihood that it is true; therefore I have great confidence in the saying that "the voice of the people is the voice of God." It will be observed that I have used the English of this quotation, although I am perfectly familiar with the Latin of it, having seen it so much in country papers.

Country editors quarrel with one another too much; too many of them imagine that they are buzz-saws, and long for opportunity to prove it. The people are not interested in these quarrels, and as a rule do not like them. A tilt between editors may be occasionally interesting, but only when the parties to it are exceptionally clever. In a newspaper controversy an editor cannot defend himself; modesty will not permit it: he can only attack the other editor, so that while both are besmirched, neither is championed. There is one name that should be kept out of a newspaper, wherever published, and that is the name of the editor. A really good editor's name is seldom seen in print in the town where he lives, for

he cannot print it himself, and the other papers will not, except in a caricature. In a political controversy one paper attacks a candidate, and the other defends him, so that the character of the candidate is left in the end where it was in the first place, but when editors pummel one another they simply debase themselves in the eyes of the community. Lawyers are the most sensible class of men in the matter of quarreling; the reason probably is that their business throws them together a great deal, while other men nurse their professional hatreds in private.

There are many comfortably rich men in the country, but few of them are editors. There are many luxurious homes in the country, but few of them are occupied by editors. The fact is, there is little money in the business; for it is a curious fact that it costs more to produce the newspapers of America than the people pay for them. Running a newspaper is like rowing a boat up-stream. A man may pull his boat slowly against the current, if he works steadily, but he dare not rest, and he cannot anchor. Every time a newspaper goes to press the editor has the feeling that his sheet might have contained more news, and more advertisements, without a dollar of additional expense, and in this business more than in any other there is a constant clamor for more work, for harder pulling at the oars. The best weekly paper I know of is edited by an old man who is particularly clever as writer, publisher, and printer, and although he owns his own home and his own office building, he is compelled to work very hard every day. Younger men not half so industrious or capable have made a great deal more money. There may be an impression in cities that country editors might do very much better if they would, but the fact is that many a man has failed to make money at editing in the country who has succeeded in the city.

Although country editors are nearly always poor, there are plenty of persons who believe that half the paragraphs in a country newspaper are paid for with enormous bribes. There are always two sides to every question, and whichever side an editor falls on, the partisans of the other accuse him of being "bought." It is little wonder, therefore, that the editor is seldom a popular man; I never knew one who was, and I never knew one who was not often accused unjustly. Probably the people believe in bribes to editors because it is a very rare editor who does not accuse his opponent of being a bribe-taker, creating a prejudice against themselves and their calling. Lazy and incompetent editors nearly always explain the success of their more vigorous opponents by declaring that they carry on a system of blackmail. I once visited a large city VOL. XLII.- 99.

the newspapers of which I had long admired almost with reverence, and was surprised to hear a citizen say that what the city really needed was better papers; they would bring "eastern capital." Every citizen of a country town wants his locality "boomed," to the end that he may sell his fifty-dollar lot for five hundred; he can appreciate how a really good paper might aid him in this, and because his lot does not advance in value as he thinks it should, he has a grievance against the editor. He longs for an editor with some "snap" in him. I don't know what "snap" means, but I know this is the quality usually thought to be lacking. There are more great men in every country town than really exist in the entire nation, and if they are not recognized, the local papers are of no account. I was once bothered a good deal by a certain man who said he could clean more chickens in an hour than any other chicken-cleaner in the world, and he wanted the fact mentioned. Men who are never suspected of greatness by other people accuse themselves of it to the editors, and when they refuse to mention this greatness, they are told that their columns contain a great deal of stuff not half so interesting. It has occurred to me that when a citizen of a country town becomes drunk, the first thing he does is to hunt up the editor to tell him what is the matter with the community.

Probably the reason every citizen feels at liberty to find fault with the editor, and not with the banker or merchant, is that he regards his contribution to the paper as in some sense a gift. Most of the subscribers and advertisers of a country newspaper are coaxed into it. In some towns it is the rule for the principal merchants to take a half-double-column advertisement, for which they pay a hundred dollars a year, and very often these stand so long without change that in the middle of summer they announce the arrival of new winter goods. Advertising in country papers pays as well as advertising in the city papers, considering the difference in the charge, but country advertisers usually do not know how to use effectively the space they pay for. The merchant also feels that if he advertises in one, he must advertise in all the papers printed in his town, and this idea is so general that an energetic, pushing editor is often held back by his slower competitors. Many business men retrain from advertising in one valuable medium because they fear that the insertion of an advertisement will cause the solicitors of poorer papers to bother them. Many business men seem to be ashamed to have it known that they have been guilty of the weakness of advertising; and some do not believe in legitimate advertising, because they have noticed that most advertise

ments are given as a sort of duty. They have an unnatural and foolish dread of seeing their names in the papers, regarding it as a system of puffing that modesty does not warrant. Farmers and town people alike are often reminded of their duty to the "local paper," and as a rule they do not do their duty without grumbling. The country newspaper is much like the country church in the matter of support, and the country editor much like the country parson in the particular that he never makes any money and is seldom satisfactory. It is surprising to note how nearly alike all country newspapers are; likewise how nearly alike all country towns are. Take the average county-seat town in almost any State, and the population is nearly always the same. In the eastern portion of Kansas and Nebraska, for example, the average population in the countyseat towns is from fifteen to eighteen hundred. They usually have the same number of stores, the same number of banks, the same number of newspapers (almost invariably two), the same number of mills and elevators, the same number of railroads (almost invariably two), the same number of grain and stock buyers, the same number of doctors, hotels, dentists, etc. And it is also worth noting that the population of the counties in the eastern portions of Kansas and Nebraska is nearly always the same. This is true in most States, the exceptions being in counties where large cities make a difference.

In the average State dozens of papers published at different county-seat towns can be found that look almost exactly alike; every editor who looks over exchanges must have remarked this. Usually they are of four eightcolumn pages, with "patent outside." The same kinds of dashes separate the editorial paragraphs on the second page; the local news is arranged in about the same way on the third page; and the editorial and local paragraphs often concern the same topics. The weather is excessively hot in one county, and the editor remarks it; the weather is excessively hot in another county, and the editor remarks it. There is good sleighing in a certain district, and you will find mention of it in all the papers, very often in connection with the liverymen taking the editors out for a "spin." There is the same similarity in the editorial columns, for most editors, as well as most men, pay too much attention to politics, and in most political discussions the difference is that one man says yes, while the other says no.

You will find about the same class of advertisements in all the papers printed in towns of the same size. The bankers always advertise, and then in the list of probabilities come the storekeepers, the implement-dealers, the law

yers, the doctors, the liverymen, the organdealer, and the blacksmiths, in about the order named; and another peculiar thing is that the advertisements are worded about the same. The papers all exchange, and every new idea in advertising goes the rounds.

Before "patents" were invented there was an individuality about most country papers that does not exist now. I am almost tempted to say that the country weeklies of twenty years ago averaged better than they do now; certainly in appearance, if not in ability. The influence of the country papers is more extensive at this writing than ever before, for they are constantly increasing in numbers, but certainly many strong, influential country papers of twenty years ago have lately lost prestige; it has been divided with new papers in their field, and with the big city publications, which are constantly increasing their circulation in the country.

The circulation of each country paper is about the same-usually less than a "bundle," or nine hundred and sixty, rarely fifteen hundred. The average circulation of six thousand of the country newspapers of America is not six hundred copies. Many of the patent medicine concerns in the east make their advertising contracts through experts, who travel from town to town. If these men understand their business, and they usually do, they know the circulation of the papers in a town before they reach the hotel; they get the information by looking at the town. When the agents call at the newspaper offices, the editors usually make a claim for their circulation that the agents know is ridiculous, but it always ends in the same way; the editors agree to the price offered by the agents, or no contracts are signed. The men who travel in advance of circuses have the same knowledge of the circulation of newspapers, but they are unable to use it, for they always pay at least treble prices for their advertising. Many editors demand a hundred dollars for a circus advertisement, whether the agent desires an inch or two columns, and the editors get their price, or no picture of an elephant goes in. But no editor exaggerates his circulation so much as the circus man exaggerates the attractions in his show, and the circus man knows it, so the difficulty is usually arranged. The circus advertising agent announces regularly every season that he is instructed to reduce the advertising expense at least one half; but he never does it.

There are four classes of men who usually own country papers: 1. Farmers' sons who think they are a little too good for farming, and not quite good enough to do nothing. 2. Schoolteachers. 3. Lawyers who have made a failure of the law. 4. Professional printers who have "worked their way." In nearly every case the