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Rowe Descendant Tree Index of Names George Henry Clay Rowe

Journal of George Henry Clay Rowe
Table of Contents

Fredericksburg, August 13, 1862
In fact it stunk and the filth was overpowering, but again, in the darkest hour, a sense of the ridiculous came to my relief. Gazing around the dimly lighted cell, there appeared each one of the party sitting on his trunk, carpet bag, or bundle, in perfect silence and profound misery. Mr Roberts observed that he should certainly die before morning, that no mortal could stand that dampness and dirt. I suggested that as the room had evidently been previously occupied by soldiers, and as he was seated near one of the bunks where some of them slept, he had better look out for lice. Forgetting his gout and other ailments, he instantly sprang up, observing that he thought he felt something crawling upon him, he stripped himself in less time than I write this account, and proceeded to invest himself in clean clothes. I could not help laughing at Roberts. He was comical throughout the performance. Before he got through, a darkey put his head in the door and enquired if we would have supper, responding affirmatively, in about half an hour he returned with a large tray, containing about a gallon of greasy coffee, three or four hunks of badly smelling and half cooked beef, and several loaves of stale bread. This meal, of course, was rated untolerable and remained untouched. Fortunately, some of our party, suspecting a strait of this character, had provided themselves with snacks which served as quite a meal for all which having dispatched we set about retiring and soon were stretched in the filthy vermin infested bunks, but so far as I was concerned, not to sleep. The perfect darkness and silence of this dungeon (for it was nothing more) and the startling occurrences of the past forty - eight hours filled me with the most gloomy reflections, not unmixed with apprehension and the condition in which I had left my wife and children with my servants absconded and they with all that was mine in the hands of the enemy, were stern realities which stared me in the face and drove slumber from my eyes, until nearly day when from sheer exhaustion I fell asleep.

Next, Waking up to the reality of it all


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