human
It's hard lines, Major, but I reckon you're bound for one of our prisons right enough,
gpt
Fortune of war,
human
But you don't like it?
gpt
To be sure not.
human
Married?
gpt
No.
human
That's one consolation--if you die on our hands,
gpt
I shan't die on your hands, if I can help it.
human
Oh, I suppose--But I've heard a good many of 'em do die; can't stand this balmy Southern air.
gpt
I think it is more likely they can't stand your poor food and foul prisons.
human
Our prisons are about as good as those up North, I reckon, Major. I had a cousin die up in New York somewhere--Elmira I think they called the lock-up. Reckon he was about starved.
gpt
I trust you are mistaken. It would not be fair to starve anybody on either side.