in this matter that I did all in my power to remedy the evil, but the number of prisoners at Andersonville was so rapidly increased it was simply impossible. In the first place, I could get no lumber scarcely at all, and after the power to impress mills was given me from Richmond the railroads insisted that railroad transportation would give entirely out if I was allowed to impress the mills. I was then instructed to impress only those mills which the railroads did not require. The result of this was that almost all the mills made contracts with the railroad for small quantities, did what they pleased with the balance, and I had to go without. In addition to this, I was instructed to pay Georgia schedule prices, which were $50 per $1,000 feet, while the navy works at Albany and the hospital departments were paying $75 or $80 per $1,000. You can readily under these circumstances perceive my difficulties. I earnestly advised the use of tents, and gave as my reasons for it that they would be more healthy, less subject to danger from fire, and in case of a general exchange of prisoners, which we were all the time expecting, would be a great saving in expense to the Confederate States Government; but I was informed by the Quartermaster-General that they could not be supplied for the simple reason they did not have them. There were some tents in Savannah, Ga., belonging to the State, which I tried in every way in the world to get, but could not succeed, as they said they needed them for their own troops. In addition to this orders now came for enlarging the stockade, so that it would hold 30,000 men. This of course stopped everything for several weeks, and by the time this was completed, or very soon thereafter, the number of prisoners amounted to some 34,000. In the meantime I was without funds, and although timely requisitions had been forwarded to Richmond, not one cent did I receive from them for the last four months that I was at Andersonville, and the few mills that were cutting for me refused to saw any longer.

In regard to local transportation, I was insfructed by the Quartermaster-General to hire what I could and then draw the balance from Norman W. Smith, at Augusta, Ga., who was chief of transporation for the western army. He, unlike most quartermasters with whom I had to deal, did the best he could for me, but the really could not keep up the supply in the army, and his instructions were that the army must be supplied first; consequently the only stock that I ever got from him was mules, already broken down in service, and after I got them, before they could be used at all (in fact, I don't think they ever were used during my stay at Andersonville) they had to be gotten into a serviceable condition. The lack of local transporation was a most serious drawback upon me.

In regard to complaints, if there be any, against the manner of burying the dead, I can only say that I did the best I could. Each body was numbered on the hospital register of deaths (which book was, of course, kept by the chief surgeon) and the same number was pinned to his clothing. They were then interred as their numbers called for, running from number one upward, and each body's number was branded deeply on his head board. If the hospital register is in being, the body of any soldier who died there can be easily found. It was impossible to furnish coffins. Materials were too scarce, and I considered it much more important to alleviate the suffering of the living than to use these materials with the dead. In fact, I used no materials for any purpose that could be done without, and positively refused to put up either officers' or soldiers' barracks until a sufficient hospital arrangement should be completed both for the prisoners and our own sick. For this