A survivor of Andersonville prison related how hunger gradually stripped from the starving prisoners the principles of honor and chivalry and humanity which obtain under ordinary circumstances. He related how two men who had been bosom friends and comrades during the war, and within the terrible prison stockade, lay side by side growing weaker and weaker, each eagerly waiting for the other to die so tha he might seize his handful of beans and bread. Impatient, the one whose strength was a little greater choked his comrade to death, only to expire himself within a few minutes.
A man was telling about an exciting experience in Russia. His sleigh was pursued over the frozen wastes by a pack of at least a dozen famished wolves. He arose and shot the foremost one, and the others stopped to devour it. But they soon caught up with him, and he shot another, which was in turn devoured. This was repeated until the last famished wolf was almost upon him with yearning jaws, when—
"Say, partner," broke in one of the listeners, "according to your reckoning that last famished wolf must have had the other 'leven inside of him."
"Well, come to think it over," said the story teller, "maybe he wasn't so darned famished after all."
"That woman never turns away a hungry man."
"Ah, genuinely charitable!"
"Hardly that. She says, 'Are you so hungry you want to saw some wood for a dinner?' And the answer is, 'No.'"