: iaiwajJiw ;
tftffelilSHra BVSBT WEDNESDAY BY
VOOBSB, SANDEUSON A CO.
. ■ i
t a. G BKITH, i J. M, COOPBB,
WH. A. ifOBTON, ALEBED SANDERSON
TERMS—ywo Dollars; per annum, payable
all caqea In advance. , ■
—r
UFPIOB-rSOUTHWEST |OOBNEB OP CENTRE
SQUARE. ’ ,
49-All letters on bqblness should be ad
dressed to OOQPBR, & CO.
ffljjtWJ.
'-i i «l»d Choose fo be a Baby.”
(The fallowing parody by Fred. Buokley on
the beautiful ballad, “T*d Choose to be a Daisy,”
Is published in shpet niusic by one of the music
houses in New York]
. ‘ I'd choose to be a baby,
A darling little flower.
Without a care or sorrow,
As 1 was lu ohlldliood’s hour;
When ladies (heaveu bless them,)
They’d kiss me and they’d vow
That they could almost eat me—
Why don’t they do it now ?
When I used to be a baby
They’d to my cradle creep;
They'd klaa me and hug and cuddle me,
Till I fell off to sleep ;
Yes, Iris- and squeeze me too,
Till I felt anyhow;
They’d even wash and dress me—
Why don’t they do it now ?
For pleased they were to nnrse me,
They would t’ ke me on their lap,
And would stuff my little stomach full
Of lollpops and pap.
They would show me tops and buttons,
And If I made a row,
They’d press me to their bosoms—
Why don't they do It now?
When the ladles used to love me
They would make me such nice clothes,
They would make me nice morocco shoes,
And wipe my little nose.
And when the shades of evening came,
And sleep came o’er my brow,
They said it’s time to go to bed—
But they never say It now.
PfccettaiMMM.
A Holden Wedding.
Fiftieth Anniversary of the Xii|»Uulm of
UlHhop HopltliiN, of Vermont.
Correspondence of the Now York Times.
Burunoton, Vt., June 7, 18(30.
In an age in which iron and brass so
closely meet and blend that it is almost
impossible to tell where the one ends
ana the other begins, a bid to any golden
wedding is not to bo slighted. And you
may be sure that an Invitation to at
tend the celebration of the fiftieth anni
versary of the nuptials of Right Rev, J.
H. Hopkins, I). D., LL. IX, Bishop of
the .Diocese of Vermont, did not, in my
tease, fall upon sluggish ears.
(In conformity with established usage
and in deference to a certain formality
generally expected in print, I bestow
upon the Bishop all the titles which are
his of right, though under the more
familiar address of “ Bishop Hopkins,"
a man eminent not only as a scholar
uud divine, but also combining in him
self the accomplishments of the poet,
the painter, the musician, the orator
and the architect, he is widely known
and quite as widely esteemed and be-
loved.) , .
The occasion promised to be an emi
nently Interesting one. The Bishop
has resided at Burlington—the pleas-
antest little city In Vermont—for many
years, and his house has been, in a mea
sure, the Meoca of travelers. It is beau
tifully situated, overlooking the bright
blue waters Of the beautiful bay, dotted
with the white sails of passing vessels.
Married in Old Harmony, Butlercounty,
Pa., May S, ISIO thirteen children—
nine hoys and four girls—have Been
born to the Bishop, nine of whom are
living. And so witli grand-children
and great-grand-chlldreu tnere was
enough material foracapltalcelebration,
even shutting out the world outside his
own hearthstone, hut the Bishop issued
a general invitation to his parish, and a
multitude of friends availed themselves
of the opportunity to pay their respects
to the venerable bride and bridegroom
of fifty years ago, hole ami vigorous
enough in their green old age to iuaplre
the hope that botli may be spared to
celebrate in another golden wedding,
the happiest epoch of their lives.
The annual Convention of the Diocese
of Vermont being now assembled iu
Burlington, the most distinguished
clergymen of the Episcopal Church
were present, and besides these, visitors
came from Han Francisco, New Orleans,
Montreal, Pittsburgh, Boston, New
York and many other distant cities. At
a meeting of the clergy of the diocese
on the morning of the 6th, the usual
routine was broken by the presentation
of a pastoral staff or “ crook "—emble
matical of his office as shepherd of the
fold—to the Bishop. This was of oak,
beautifully carved, and seven feet in
length. Near the middle of the staff
there was an ornamental knob of silver,
the panels of which contained pictures
representing the five wounds ot Christ,
St. Paul, Archbishops and Bishop
White, who ordained Bishop Hopkins
—an Idea of the Apostolic succession.
The crook at the end b! the staff was
elegantly carved and gilded, the centre
containing a statuette in gold of the
good shepherd, with lambs in his arms,
BUrrounded by sheep iu silver. The cost
of the staff was SHOO. It was presented
by Bev. Mr. Hale, Rector of Arlington,
with an appropriate address.
In accordance with the rule of the
week it commenced showering in the
morning, and the drops seemed to grow
with the day, until in the afternoon
their size and volume assumed propor
tions almost phenomenal. For nigh
upon two hours the rain Cell in a per
fect sheet of water—bringing to mind
that “wet sheet” of which the song
makes mention, while in the streets
surged and swelled the “flowing sea”
of lyric memory. Nevertheless the
Bishop’s house was thronged through
out the day by callers who availed
themselves of the privileges of old
friends, setting aside the fact that the
invitations were Issued for 7.30 in the
evening, in their desire to evade the
crowd which they expected would then
have possession of the house. Evening
found the house full at the appointed
hour —not unpleasantly so, however.
The dampness of the grass cheated those
who expected a dance on the lawn, but
the grounds laid out under the guidance
of the Bishop’s own exquisite taste—
with all his gettings he has got a thor
ough knowledge of landscape garfien
ing—showed to excellent advantage,
the shrubbery and flowers coming up
all the greener in leaf and brighter in
blossom for their great douche. As the
evening grew darker and the windiug
paths becume indistiuct to the unassist
ed eye, lanterns were suspended in the
trees, while several large locomotive
lamps, shedding their powerful light
through the grounds, made them so
light that guests were not at all incon
venienced in going to and from their
carriages. Over the frontdoorinquaint
old letters of variously colored lights,
this legend was blazoned, or rather
blazed, “Golden Wedding.” The large
drawing-room and three large rooms
adjoining, the walls covered with paint
ings from the Bishop’s brush and dec
orated with evergreens and flowers, were
thrown open for the reception of guests.
At one end of the drawing-room the
wall bore a large cross, in evergreen,
with the legend “1816 and 1866;” be
neath sat the Bishop and she who half
a century ago became his bride. It was
a beautiful sight, and ifanyonedoubted
that a well-spent life brings its certain
and sure reward, certainly that doubt
must have been dispelled. Most of the
sons and daughters, thirty grandchil
dren, and fourgreat-grandchildrenwere
present. The days of the patriarchs seem
ed revived, and in the venerable Bishop
we beheld a Jadob—a Jacob untroubled by
the memoriesofabrother Esau unkindly
dealt with. At 8 o’clock the cadets of
the Vermbnt Episcopal Institute march
ed in, led by their officers, and accom
panied by the Rev. Theodore A. Hop
kins, President of the Institute, and the
assistant teachers. Standing in the
centre of the room they sung a song,
"The Golden Thread,” the words'and
music written by Rev. J. H. Hopkins,
Jr., several yearsago. The cadets made
a fine appearance in their neat and well
fitting uniforms of grey, acquitting
themselves musically as well as man
-1 fully. The next song was a great sur
' prise to the Bishop and Mrs. Hopkins,
who looked wpnderlngly at each other
as its chorus rose and swelled, as though
to ask how it could be or how it came to
be composed and rehearsed without
their knowledge. This was 11 The
i ' i Golden Wedding Song,” the composi
.l iiition (both words and music) of the first
, born son, John Henry, Sung by the
'' ivholb family standing around the two
‘ifrpmwhom all had sprung, it may well
'■; j be imagined that it brought tears to the
eyes of those to whom itwaa addressed,
I jfntcUuicndT.
VOLUME 6T,
while the assembled company could but
share in the emotion. This was the
chorus:
“At Home, Father ! Home, Mother !
All, all at home!"
Several other songs, of the Bishop’s
own composition, weresung, theßishop
and Mrs. Hopkins uniting In the
choruses. The former aged 7 land the
latter 71 their voices show still fewer
wrinkles than their brows, seeming to
have mellowed rather than hardened
and cracked with age. .
On and near a table in an adjoining
parlor the presente were displayed, and
this table naturally was one of the chief
centres of attraction duringtheevening,
drawing crowds only rivalled by the
one which thronged around the Bishop
and Mrs. Hopkins. I was never good
at enumeration, but allow me to tell
as nearly as I can what these presents
were: First, there was a new carpet,
costing $3OO, presented by the lady
members of St. Paul’s Church. (The
carpet, however, was on the floor, and
not upon the table.) A silver pitcher,
silver and goblets, from the older mem
bers of the Institute. About $350 from
the laity of the Diocese, and a few
others. I am sorry to say that all
of this was not in gold. The
Rev. Dr. Balah, canon of the Mon
treal Cathedral, gave a fine oaken
prayer desk and several large pictures.
Members of the family contributed
every little article that affection could
prompt. For the Bishop—oh, ye con
demners of the Virginian weed, hold
up your hinds in horror, for know that
lie smokes—there was tobacco anil a
magniiioent meerschaum pipe, mounted
in gold. A gold watch and chain. Ibere
was also a gold watch and chain foi
Mrs. Hopkins. And as I can no longer
pretend to distinguish or remember for
which of the parents the presents were,
let me tell them off all together: Lace
curtains, lace shawl and set, a case of
Farina cologne, a large afghan, a set ot
furs, a silver castor, cups, cigar holders,
portemonnaies, pipes, gold pencils,
broodies and sleeve buttons, silver
knives, china ware, toilette vessels, a
silver card case, worsted lamp mats, a
tete-a-tete for tea, gold thimbles, Ink
stands, a large picture of the Bishop on
porcelain, a carved book rack, twolarge
easy chairs, and many other articles ot
comfortable furniture, aud a large
family Bible—one of the chef d'amvres
of the English press, costing $lOO. My
attention wus particularly attracted by
a chain, made from the Bishop s hair,
for Mrs. Hopkins. It was white as
sliver. And I fancy that what the
mothor will value quite as much ns any
otlior of the treasures given her, Is a
necklace of all her children’s hair, beau
tifully braided and studded with gold.
Refreshments were served during the
evening, and in social converse and the
exehuege of oougratulatlonsapproprlate
to the occasion, the hours wore away.
At about 10 o’clock the whole company
sang the Evening Hymn, the Bishop
pronounced the benediction, and the
company began to disperse. Probably
many who read this article have seen
the Bishop pronounce the blessing in
church, and will remember his appear
ance as he stands in his robes, with up
lifted bauds, the softened sunbeams
streaming through the richly-stained
glass of the great window, and falling
upon fils head—a blessing from Heaven
upon the blessor. Those who have will
little wonder that among the other
Bishops he is called “ the Apostle,” for
certainly there was never on earth, in
human form, a nearer approach to the
ideal Apostolic appearance. But never
even when surrounded with all the ac
cessories of office have I heard the bene
diction so affectiugly spoken as by that
white haired Priestof God, in the bosom
ofhlsown family, his children, hlsgrand
children, his great grandchildren, the
members of his parish, and
friends among whom so many years of
his life aud labors have been passed,
standing around him as he implored for
all present “ the peace of God which
passeth all understanding.” And by
his side stood the partner of so many
years of joy—for looking upon the
placid contented countenances of both
it is impossible to realize that either has
known sorrows —still able to sing and
play Upon organ, harp and piano. To
day the family united in a dinner at the
Bißhop’s house, on which occasion the
Bishop presented each member with
ilia Autobiography in verse —100 copies
of which were printed for the family
only. Thirty or forty sat down to din
ner. To-morrow they all partake of the
Holy Communion together—and so will
end the most interesting and impressive
family re-union ever I witnessed, or in
all probability ever shall see.
A lesson for Dad.
An old gentleman farmer, who had
two or three very pretty daughters, was
so very anxious of his charge that he
would not permit them to keep the
company of young men. However,
they adopted the following expedient
to enjoy the society of their lovers,
without the knowledge of their father :
After the old man had retired to rest,
the girls would hang a sheet out of the
window, which was quite a distance
from the ground, and the beau would
seize hold of it, and with the assistance
of his lady-love, who tugged lustily at
the end above, would thus gain entrance.
But it so happened that one evening the
girls hung out the sheet rather early ;
for the old gentleman, by some ili
wind, was blown around the corner,
and spying the bed-covering, could not
conjecture, the meaning of its being
there. He took hold and endeavored to
pull it down. The girls, supposing it to
be one of their beaux, began to hoist,
and did not discover their mistake until
the head of the old man was level witli
the window-sill, when one of them ex
claimed, “Oh! Lord, it’s dad!” and
letting go their hold, Bouse came the old
man on the hard stones and ground
below, dislocating one of his shoulders,
which convinced him that his efforts to
make old maids of his daughters was
not a matter so easily accomplished,
and, withdrawing all opposition to their
keeping company, he was soon a father
in-law.
Soda Water—-Its History.
We will venture to say that very few
of our readers who frequent the soda
fountains know the manner in which
the beverage is made. Soda water is
simply pure water impregnated with
carbonic acid gas. It is known by its
agreeable pungent taste, by its slightly
exhilarating qualities, and its bubbling
and sointillation. The water to be im
pregnated with the gas is placed in a
strong vessel, made of iron or copper,
called a fountain. The gas, after being
passed through the water to purify it,
is conducted to the fountain, and, after
sufficient agitation in contact with the
gas, at a high pressure, the'water be
comes impregnable, and is then what is
known as soda water. The first exper
iments were made by Venal, in France,
1751), and publishedin 1776; by Priestly,
in 1798; and, later, by Bergman, Black,
Van Helmot, and others. The first
manufactory in the world was estab
lished at Geneva, by Goss, an apothe
cary of that city, whose annual sales
amounted to 40,000 bottles of ‘‘Eau de
Belts.” In lt9o, his partner, Mr. Paul,
founded an establishment in Paris,
where were compounded not only the
principal mineral waters of France, but
even those of foreign countries. From
this time onward, laboratories multi
plied all over Europe, and the maufae
ture of simple agrated water is now-con
ducted on so large a scale ih all civilized 1 '
i countries, that a very large amount of
inventive talent has been, successfullv
i employed in improving the necessary
1 1 apparatus, '
The European War,
Strength of the Ooofcemlli** Powers.
I.—PBUSBIA.
The area of Prussia is at present 108,-
212 English square miles, or about equal
to the combined territory of Georgia
and Florida. The population, accord
ing to the census of 1864, was 19,304,843,
falling but little below that of the North
ern States of the Union. The great
majority of the population are Germans;
the total number of persons belonging
to non-German nationalities being 2,-
504,179. A considerable portion of the
latter are feeble remnants of small
tribes which are rapidly beingabsorbed
by the German nationality. Within
the last few years the Government of
Prussia made several important addi
tions to the former dominions, acquiring
first the two Principalities of Hohen
zollem, the next the importaqtseacoast
district of Yahde, which it purchased
from Oldenburg, and more recently the
Duohy of Lauenburg which was ceded
to it by Austriu for a pecuniary consid
eration. It holds, moreover, possession
of Schleswig, and avows its intention to
permanently annex to Prussia both
this Duchy and that of Holstein. In
point of administration, Prussia is not
inferior to any other country of the
world. Its finances, unlike those of
Aaatria and Italy, are in a sound con
dition ; its army discipline has long
been the admiration of the entire civi
lized world. The army, on a war foot
ing, numbers 700,000, and its fleet con
sisted, in 1860, of 37 steamers, 8 sailing
vessels, 40 rowing vessels; total, 85war
vessels. The reigning King is William
I, born in 1797, who succeeded his
brother Frederic William IV, in Janu
ary, 1861.
lI.—AUSTRIA,
The Austrian Empire, as at present
constituted, is divided into nineteen
Provinces, the area of which is 236,811
English square miles, with a total
population, according to computation,
of 30,795,000 souls. This population is
divided, with respect to race and lan
guage, into no fewer than twelve dif
ferent nationalities, namely:
Germans, 8,200,000 Servians,
Bohemians,) Bulgarians,
Moravians, !• 3,000,000 Magyars,
Hlovacks, J Italians ilnelU'
Poles. 2,200,000 slveofLatlus
Rnsslans, 2.800,000 AFrlaulsJ 8,059,000
Slavonians, 1,210,000 Eastern Ho-
Croats, 1,360,000 mans, 2,700,000
Members of
other races 1,430,000
Austria Is one of the great military
powers of Europe, her army on the war
footing being over half a million of men.
The (navy, however, is comparatively
small, consisting, In August, 18G4, of 31)
steamers with 0311 guns, 11,730 horse
power, and 20 sailing vessels with 145
guns. Great efl'orts have been made
within the last few years tq raise the
Imperial navy to a state of high elll
ciency by the substitution of steam for
sailing vessels, and the gradual forma
tion of an Iron olad fleet of war. Austria
has become a constitutional monarchy
since 1849, the main features of the con
stitution consisting, first, of the Provin
cial Piets, representing the various
States of the monarchy; secondly, a
Central Diet, or Council of the Empire;
and thirdly, a reduced form of the lat
ter, or Partial Council of the Empire, as
it is called. Tne public debtof the Em-
pire, which at the commencement__ol
the French revolution in 1789 was $175,-
500,000, had grown in 1863 to $1,210,222,-
085. From 1789 to the present time there
has not been a single year in which the
revenue of the State has come up to the
expenditure. The present Emperor,
Francis Joseph 1., was born August,
1830, and was proclaimed Emperor and
King in consequence of the aodication
of his uncle Ferdinand 1., and the re
nunciation of his father, Francis Charles,
December2,lB4B. He was Commander
in-Chief of the Austrain army in the
Italian campaign of 1859.
111. —ITALY.
The Kingdom of Italy has an area of
98,784 English square mines, with a
population according to the last census, |
taken in the Spring of 1864, of 21,703,719
souls,being on an average22o inhabitants
to the square mile ; a figure higher than
that of France and Germany, but lower
than that of England. There has been
in some of the Provinces a rapid increase
of population of late years ; but the in
crease of wealth has been much more
rapid within the last century than the
increase of population. The great mass
of the people are devoted to agricultural
pursuits, and the town population is
comparatively small. It has a seafaring
population of 158,692 individuals, nearly
all of whom are liable to the maritime
conscription. The military organization
of the Kingdom is based on conscription,
and the standing army consists of more
than 200,000-men on the peace footing,
and more than 400,000 on a war establish
ment. The navy of the Kingdom con
sisted in 1865 of 98 steamers and 20,760
horse power, with 2,160 guns, and 17
sailing vessels, with 279 guns; altogether
115 men of war with 2,439 guns. Italy
hasa publiedebt of nearly eight millions
of dollars. The expenditure is largely
in excess of the annual revenue. The
reigning Sovereign, Victor Emanuel 11,
was born March 14,1820, and is the eldest
son of King Charles Albert of Sardinia,
and Archduchess Theresa of Austria.
He succeeded to the throne on the ab
dication of his father, March 23, 1849,
and was proclaimed King of Italy by a
vote of the Italian Parliament, March
17, 1861.
IV.—THE OERMAN CONFEDERATION.
The German Confederation was organ
ized in 1815, upon the ruinß of the Ger
man Empire which had been dissolved
in 1806. The object of the Confederacy,
according to the first article of the Fed
eral Constitution, is “the preservation
of the internal and external security of
Germany, and the independence and
inviolability of the various German
States.” The organ and representative
of the Confederation is theFederalDiet,
consisting of Plenipotentiaries of the
several German States, and permanently
located in the free city of Frankfort.
The administrative Government of the
Federal Diet is constituted in two forms:
Ist. As a General Assembly of Plenum ,
in which every member of the Confed
eration has at least one vote, and the
larger States have two, three and four
votes each; and second, the Minor
Council, or Committee of Confederation,
in which the eleven largest States cast
one vote each, while six votes are given
to the smaller States, a number of them
combined having a joint vote. The pres
idency is permanently vested in Austria.
The General Assembly decides on war
and peace, on the admission of new mem
bers, on any changes in the fundamen
tal laws or organic institutions: but in
all other cases the Minor Council is com
petent to act both as legislativeand execu
tive.
At the time of its establishment the
Confederacy embraced 39 members, but
of these four (Saxe-Gotlia, Anhalt-Ber
gen, Anhalt-Goethen and Hesse-Hom
burg,) have become extinct, and two
(Hohenzollern-Hechingen and Honen
zollern-Sigmaringen) have been incor
porated with Prussia, leaving at present
33 sovereign States. They have together
an area of 242,867 square miles, and in
1864, a population of over 46,000,000 peo
ple, exceeding the aggregate population
of British America, the United States,
Mexico and Central America, and being
in Europe inferior to that of no county
except Russia. The federal army num
bers about 700,000.
Austria and Prussiabelong, with only
a part of their several dominions, to this
Confederation ; Austria, with a popula
tion of 12,802,944, Prussia, with a pop
ulation of 14,714,042. Prussia, there
fore, and not* Austria, is in point of
population the first German State, and
this priority is still more prominent if
we take into account the provinces of
both powers not belonging to this Con
federation.
Deducting the population of the two
great Gerrqan powers a population is
left for the other States of about 19,000,-
000, with a federal army of about 300,-
000. As the record of the votes of the
Federal Diet during the last year
shows the great majority of the minor
States side with or at least lean toward
Austria, and it is still commonly be
■lieved, that soon after an outbreak of
war between Austria and Prussia,' the
Diet will declare a Federal war against
I Prussia.
> All parties in Germany, Austria,
LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, JUNE 27, 1866.
Prussia, the minor governments, and
all the political parties among the peo
ple, are in favor of establishing a Cen
tral National Parliament, as a step
towards the ultimate establishment of
one German Empire. This point is
therefore likely to be one of the results
of the impending war.
Gazettes and the Printing Press.
‘Tnese mark the every-day affairs of life.”
The early newspapers are by no means
such miscellaneous and amusing things
as our modern use of them might lead
us to conceive. They are very tame,
and the news, which is generally for
eign, is told in very dull prose; very
little like jest or mirth appears in any
of them. Fruitful as Franklin was in
amusing writings, it is really surprising
how very devoid of Spectator-Mia arti
cles his paper is; but very little has
been furnished by his pen. He must
have deemed itoutof place for his paper,
and therefore confined his essays to his
“ Poor Richard's Almanac,” which was
so favorably received as to call for three
editions in the Bame year. Reflections
on men and manners of that day, to
which he was so very competent, would
have been very interesting and judici
ous ; but I have found nothing. Proba
bly the “ even tenor of their way,” in
the days of his chief residence among
hr, excitcd m” cause of remarks, and
thatdtf’tvas chiefly since the Revolution
that we began, to deserve remarks on
the changing character of thetimesand
the people.
But after every omission and neglect
in such editors, old newspapers are still
unavoidably a kind of mirror of their
age, for they bring up the very age with
all Its bustle and every-day occurrence,
and mark its genius and spirit more
than the most labored description of the
historian. Sometimes a single adver
tisement lnddently “prolongs the du
bious tale.” An old paper makes us
thoughtful, for we also shall make our
exit; there every name we read of in
print is ulready cut upon tombstones.
The names of doctors have followed their
patients' ; the merchants have gone
after their perished ships, and the cele
brated actor furnishes his own skull for
for his successor in Hamlet.
The American Weekly Mercury was
begun by Andrew Bradford, sou of
William, in Philadelphia, 1719, in com
pany with John Copson. This was the
tlrst gazette ever published in our city.
It wus begun the 22dof December, 1719,
at ten shillings per annum. The gen
eral object of the paper Is suld to be “ to
encourage trade.” It does not seem to
be the spirit of the paper to give the
local news, or, rather, they did not seem
to deem it worthy their mention. It
might have been but “ a tale twice
tolu,” for which they were unwilling
to pay, while they thought every man
could know his domestlo. nows without
an advertiser. Foreign news and cus
tom-house entries, Inwurds and out
wards, including equally the ports of
New York and Boston, constituted the
general contents of every Mercury.
In November, 1742, the publisher
Andrew Bradford died, and the paper
was set In mourning columns, &c., for
six weeks. After this it was continued
by the widow until 1746. when it was
discontinued, probably from the cause
of William Bradford, the former part
ner of Andrew, having soon after his
death, set up a new paper called the
Pennsylvania Journal.
In 1727 Benjamin Franklin projected
the scheme of a second or
rival paper ; but his project being ex
posed to Keimer, he supplanted Frank
lin by hastily publishing his prospectus
—a strange vaporing composition —and
fell to getting subscribers. By this
means he was enabled to start, and even
to continue for nine short months, The
Pennsylvania Gazette. He had gotonly
ninety subscribers, when Franklin and
Joseph Brientnal, under the title of the
“Busy Body,” contributed to write him
down In Bradford’s Mercury. Thus
won by conquest, Franklin soon man
aged to buy it for a trifle as his own.
In 1727, the Gazette says: “ We have
} been these three days expecting the
New York post, as usual, but he is not
yet arrived,”— although three days over
his time 1
In 1727, the mail to Annapolis is
opened this year, to go once a fortnight
in Bummer, and once a month in winter,
via New Castle, &c., to the Western
Shore, and back to the Eastern Shore ;
managed by William Bradford in
Philadelphia, and by William Parks in
Annapolis.
In. December, 1729, the Gazette an
nounces that “while the New York post
continues his fortnight stage, we shall
publish but ouce a week as in former
times.” In the summer it went once a
week.
In 1738, Henry Pratt is made riding
postmaster for all the stages between
Philadelphia and Newport, in Virginia;
tosetoutinthebeginnlngoieach month,
and to return in twenty-four days. To
him, all merchants, &c., may confide
their letters and other business, he
having given security to the postmaster
general. In this day we can have but
little conception of his lonely rideß over
imperfect roads ; of his laying out at
times all night, and giving his horse a
range of rope to browse, while he should
make his letter-pack ills pillow on the
ground.
In 1747. it is announced in the Gazette
that the “northern post begins his fort
night stages on Tuesday next for the
winter season.”
In 1745, John Dailey, surveyor, states
that he has j ust made survey of the road
from Trenton to Amboy and had|set up
marks at every two miles, to guide the
traveller. It was done by private sub
scriptions, and he proposes to do the
whole road from Philadelphia to New
York in the same way, if a sum be made
up.— Watson’s Annals of Philadelphia.
Stage Nonsense.
We were speaking to a friend the
other day, respecting the merits of a
“celebrated tragedian,” when he had
occasion to comment on tho rant of the
stage —the loud mouthing, the outrage
ous gestures, the furious rolling of the
eye, the stride, swords that rattle in the
hilt, and all the “pomp and circum
stances” of the modern drama.
Fancy this style carried into real life.
On being introduced to a lady you would
say, throwing yourself into a splendid
attitude:
“ Most gracious madam, on my knees
I greet you,” impressively placing your
right hand on your heart.
To a creditor who would not pay:
“Fraudulent knave! payest thou me
not? By yonder Bun that blazes in the
zenith, thee will I sue, and thou sbalt
see thy impious name flaming the
streets on posters huge.”
At dinner: “Now, by my soul, and
all my highest hopes, those beans are
royal. Were I Jupiter, beans should
grace each kingly banquet. What, ho!
waiter, bring hither more beans!”
To your wife: " Madam, beware thou
dost excite me not; else being too hot
with wrath Ido myself some harm. A
needle here—a button on that shirt—
and see it instantly performed. Do it!
Not leave the task to me."
Toyour butcher: “ Thou ensanguined
destroyer of bovines, send me some mut
ton and some beef; and mark you! let
it be tenderer than love, and sweeter
than the bee’s rare burden. I would
dine to-day.”
To a friend: “ Excuse a rash intru
sion on your grace, but hast thou in thy
box a portion of that plant ranked by
the botanist among the genus nico
tiani V ’ Or, “ Most noble friend, wilt
thou partake with me some strong liba
tion? Thou lookest dull to-day; ’twill
cheer thy sinking heart.”
Reply: “Oh, noble soul! alas, not
all the wine of Bacchanalian revels
could ease the sorrow here —here! here!
(Left arm struck several times.) Oh,
what a fool and arrant knave am I, the
very sport of fortune.”
This is scarcely more ridiculous than
three-quarters of the stage nonsense)
“ You labor too hard on your com
position, doctor,” said a flippant clergy
man to a venerable divine ; “ I write a
sermonln two hours, and think nothing
of it.”
. 11 So do your congregation,” quoth
thedootor.
JEFFERSON DAYIB IN PRISON.
Extracts firoin (te; Dtaryo^p*>Craven,
Surgeon at F'ortms Monroe,
The story or the imprisonment of Jeffer
son Davis, written by the surgeon of the
post, who for the first seven months of that
imprisonment professionally attended the
fallen President of the Confederate States,
and dedicated to the Secretary of the Treas
ury, appeals in no ordinary fashion to the
attention of all Americana. Without at
tempting to review the work, and content
iogj-ourselves with this simple statement of
itsv anthorship and of the circumstances
under which it appears—a statement which
games with it ample demonstration to every
capable and candid person of its authenticity
and impartiality—we proceed to lay before
our readers such copious extracts from its
pages as will enable them to judge of its
grave interest and value.
THE PRISON I.IFE OF JEFFERSON DAVIS
The procession into the fort was under
the immediate inspection of Major General
Halleck and Charles A. Dana, then Assist
ant Secretary of War; Colonel Pritchard,
of the Michigan cavalry, who immediately
effected the capture,beingtbeofficer in com
mand of the guard from the vessel to the
fort. First came Major General Miles hold
ing the arm of Mr. Davis who was dressed
in a suit of Confederate gray, with a gray
slouched hat—always thin, and now look
ing much wusted and very haggard. Im
mediately after these came Col. Pritchard
accompariylng Mr. Clay, with a guard of
soldiers in their rear. Thus they passed
through files of man iu blue fromthe Engi
neer’s Landing to fche Water Battery Pos
tern; and on arriving at thecusemate which
had been fitted up Into cells for their incarce
ration, Mr. Davis was shown into casement
No. H and Clay into No. 4. guards of soldier
being stationed in the colls numbered 1, 3
and 5. upon each sideofthem. They enter*
ed; tue heavy doors clanged behind them,
aud in thnt clang was rung the final knell
of the terrible, but now extinct rebellion.
Being ushered into his inner cell by Gen
eral Miles, and the two doors leading there
into from the guard-room being fastened,
Mr. Davis, oiler surveying the premises
for some moments, and looking out through
the embrasure with such thoughts passing
over his lined and expressive Taco as may
bo imagined, suddenly seated himself in a
chair, placing both hands on hisknees, and
uakmi one of the soldiers pacing up and
down, within his cell this significant ques
tion : “Which way does the embrasure
lace?”
The Holdior whs silent
Mr. Davis, raising bis-voice ti little, re
peated the Inquiry.
But again dead silence, or only the meas
ured Iboti'alls of the two pacing sentries
within, and the fainter echoes of the four
without.
Addresslug the other soldier, us if the tlrst
had been deuf and had not hoard him, the
prisoner again repeated his inquiry.
But tho second soldier remained silent as
the first, a slight twitching of his eyes only
Intimating thut he had heard tho question,
but was forbidden to speak.
“Well,” said Mr. Davis, throwing his
hands up and breaking into a bitter laugh,
“ I wish my mon coulu have been taught
your discipline!” and then, rising from his
chair, he commenced pacing back and forth
before tho embrasure, now looking at tho
silent sentry across the moat, and anon at
tho two silently pacing soldiers who were
bis companions in the casement.
His solo reading matter, a Bible und
prayer-book, his only companions those
two silent guards, his only food the ordinary
rations of bread and beef served ouLtotho
soldiers of the garrison—thus passed the
first day and night of the ex-Presidont’s
confinement.
On tho morning of the 23d ot May, a yet
bitterer trial was in store for the proud
spirit—a trial severer, probably, than has
ever in modern times d;een indicted upon
anv one who had enjoyed such eminence.
This morn i ng Jefferson Davis was shackled.
It was while all the swarming carnps of
the armies of the Potomao, the Tennessee
and Georgia—over two hundred thousand
bronzed and laurelled veterans—were pre
paring for the Grand Review of the next
morning, in which, passing iu endless suc
cession before the mansion of the President,
tho conquering military power of the nation
was to lay down its arms at the feet of the
Civil Authority thut the following scene
was enacted at Fort Monroe.
Captain Jerome E. Tltlow, of the Third
Pennsylvania Artilfery, entered the prison
er’s cell, followed by the blacksmith of the
fort and his assistant, the latter carrying in
his hands some heavy and harshly-rattling
shackles. As they entered Mr. Davis was
reclining on his bed, feverish and weary
after a sleepless night, the food placed near
to him the preceding day still lying un
touched on its tin plate near bis bedside.
“Well!” said Mr. Davis as they entered,
slightly raising his head.
“ I have an unpleasant duty to perform,
sir,” said Captain Titlow; and us he spoke
the senior blacksmith took the shackles
from his assistant.
Davis leaped instantly from his recum
bent attitude, a flush passing ov. r his face
for a moment, and then his couutenunce
growing livid and rigid ns death.
Hegnsped.for breuth, clutching his throat
with the thiu fingers of his right hand, and
then recovering himself slowly while his
wasted figure towered up to its full height
—now appearing to swell with indignation
and then to shrink with terror, as he glanced
from the captain’s faoo to the shackles—he
said slowly and with a laboring chest:
“My God! You cannot havo been sent
to iron mo?”
“Such are my orders, sir,” replied the
officer, beckoning the blacksmith to ap
proach, who stepped forward, unlockingthe
padlock and preparing the fetters to do their
office. These fetters wore of heavy iron,
probably five-eighths of an inch in thickness
and connected together by a chain of like
1 weight. I believe they are now in the posses
' sion of Major General Miles, and will form
an interesting relic.
“This is too monstrous,” groaned the
prisoner, glaring hurriedly round the room,
as if for some weapon, or means of self-de
struction. “ I demand. Captain, that you
let me see the commanding officer. Can he
pretend that such shackles are required to
secure the safe custody of a weak old man,
so guarded and in such a fort as this ?”
“ It could serve no purpose,” replied Cap
tain Titlow; “his orders are from Wash
ington, as mine are from him.”
“But he can telegraph,” interposed Mr.
Davis, eagerly; “ there must be some mis
take. No such outrage as you threaten me
with is on record in the history of nutions.
Beg him to telegraph, und delay until he
answers.”
“My orders are peremptory,” said tho
officer, “ and admit of no delay. For your
own sake, let me advise you to submit with
patience. As a soldier, Mr. Davis, you
know I must execute orders.”
“These are not orders for a soldier,”
shouted the prisoner, losing all control of
himself. “ They are orders for a jailor—for
a hangman, which no soldier wearing a
sword should accept! I tell you the world
will ring with this disgrace. Tho war is
over; the South is conquered; I have no
longer any country but America, as for my
own honor and life, that I plead against
this degradation. Kill me ! kill me!” he
cried, passionately, throwing his arms wide
open and exposing his breast, “rather than
inflict on me, and on my people through
me, this insult worse than death.”
“Do your duty, blacksmith,” said the of
ficer, walking towards the embrasure as if
not caring to witness the performance. “It
only gives increased pain on all sides to
protract this interview.
At these words the blacksmith advanced
with theshackles, and seeing that the pris
oner had one foot upon the chair near his
bedside, his right band resting on the back
of it, the brawny mechanic made an attempt
to slip one of the shackles over the ankle so
raised; but, as if with the vehemence and
strength which frenzy can impart, even to
the weakest invalid, Mr. Davis suddenly
seized his assailant and hurled him half
way across the room.
On this Captain Titlow turned, and seeing
that Davis had backed against the wall for
further resistance, began to remonstrate,
pointing out in brief, clear language, that
this course was madness, and that orders
must be enforced at any cost. “Why com
pel me,” he said, “to acid the further indig*
i nity of personal violence to the necessity of
l your being ironed ?”
“I am a prisoner of war,” fiercely re
torted Davis; “ I have been a soldier in the
armies of America, and know howto die.
Only kill me, and my last breath shall be a
blessing on your head. But while I have
life ana strength to resist, for myself and
for my people, this thing shall not he done.”
Hereupon Capt. Titlow called in asergeant
and file of soldiers from the next room, and
the sergeant advanced to seize the prisoner.
Immediately Mr. Davis flew on him, seized
his musket and attempted to wrench it from
his grasp.
Of course such a scene could have but one
issue. There was ashort, passionate scuffle.
In a moment Davis was flung upon his bed,
and before his four powerful assailants re
moved their hands from him, the black
smith and his assistant had done their work
—one securing the rivet on the right ankle,
while the other urnedthe key on the pad
lock on the left.
This done, Mr. Daviß lay for a moment
as if in a stupor. Then slowly raising him
self and ttiimng round, be dropped his
: shackled feet to the floor. .The harsh clank
of the striking chain seems first to have re
called him to his situation, and dropping
his feee into his hands, he burst into a pas
sionate flood of sobbing, rocking to und fro,
and muttering at brief intervals: “ Oh, the
shame, the shame!”
It may here be stated, though out of its
due order—that we may get rid in haste ot
an unpleasant subject —that Mr. Davis some
two months jater, when frequent visits had
made him more free of converse, gave me
a curious explanation of the last feature of
this incident.
He had been speaking of suicide, and de
nouncing it as the worst form of cowardice
and folly. “ Life is not like a commission
that we can resign when disgusted with the
service. Taking it by your own hand is a
confession of judgment to all that your
worst enemies can allege. It has often
flashed across me as a tempting remedy for
neuralgic torture; but thank (rod! I never
sought my own death but once, and then
when completely frenzied and not master
of mv actions. When they came to iron
me that day, as a la9t resource of despera
tion, I seized a soldier’s musket and at
tempted to wrench it from his grasp, hoping
that in the scuffle and surprise, some one of
his comrades would shoot or bayonet me.”
On the morning of May 24th, I was sent
for about half-past 8 a. m., by Major Gen
eral Miles; was told that State prisoner I
Davis complained of being ill, ana that I I
had been assigned as his uiedicalattendant. I
Calling upon the prisoner—the tirst time I
I had ever seen him closely—he presented I
a very miserable and afflicting aspect.
Stretched upon his pallet and very much
emaciated, Mr. Davis appeared a mere fas
cine of raw and tremulous nerves—his eyes
restless and fevered, bis head' ifentinually
shifting from side to side for a eagl sfcot on
the pillow, und his case cltMirly^n?,in which
intense cerebal excitement was tHe first
thing needing attention. Ho wasextreidely
despondent, his pulso full and at ninety,
tongue thickly couted, extremities cold,
andhis head troubled with a long establish
ed neuralgic disorder. Complained of his
thin eutnp mattress aud pillow stuffed with
hair, adding, that he was so emaciated that
his skin chafed easily against the slats;
and, as those complaints wore well founded.
I ordered an uddilioiml hospital mattress und
softer pillow, fur which he thanked me
courteously.
“ Hut I tear,” he said, as, having prescri
bed, X was about taking my leave, accom
panied by Captain Evans, r rhird Pennsyl
ninia Artillery, who was officer of the dav ;
“ I fear, Doctor, you will have a trouble
some and unsatisfactory pulient. One whoso
case can reflect on you little credit. There
are circumstances at work outside your art
to counteract your art; and 1 suppose there
must bo a conflict betweeti your feelings
us a soldier of the Union anti your duties
us a healer of the Hick.”
May 21, 1860.
This lust wus said with a faint smile, and
I tried to cheer him, assuring him, il ho
would only keep quiet and endeavor to get
some rest and sleep, which uiy prescription
was mainly addressed to obtain, that bo
would be well In a few days. For the rest,
of course a physician could have no feeling
nor recognize any duties but towards his
patient,
Mr. Davis turned to the officer of the day,
and demanded whether he lmd been shacK
led by special order of the Sepetary of
War, or whether General Mlloffhad cnnsld
ed this violent course essential to his
safo-kooping? Thu Cuptuin repllod that ho
know nothing of the mutter; and so our
first Interview ended.
On quilting Mr. Davis, at once wrote to
Major Church, Assistant Adjutant General,
advising that tho prisoner be allowed tobac
co—to the want 01 which, after a lifetime of
use, he hud referred as one of the probable
partial causes ol his illness—though not
complaininglv, nor with any request tbut
it be given. 'This recommendation was ap
proved iu the course of tho day; and on
culling in the evening brought tobacco with
me, and Mr. Davis tilled bis, pipe, which
wus the sole article he had carried with him
from the Clyde, except the clothes he then
wore.
“This is a noble medicine,” he said, with
something as near a smile as was possible
for his haggard and shrunken features. “I
hardly expected it; did not ask for it,
though the deprivation has been severe.
During my confinement here I shall ask
for nothing.”
He wus now much calmer, feverishsymp-
toms steadily decreasing, pulse nlreudy
down to seventy-live, lus brain less excita
ble, and his mind becoming more resigned
to his condition. Complained that the foot
falls of the two sentries within his chamber
made it difficult for him to collect his
thoughts; but added cheerfully thnt, with
this—touching his pipe—he hoped to become
tranquil.
This pipe, by tho way, was a lurge and
handsome one,, made of meerschaum, with
an amber mouth-piece, showing by its color
that it had seen “uctive service” for some
time—as indeed was the case, having been
his companion during the stormiest years
of his late titular Presidency. It is now in
the writer's possession, having been given
to him by Mr. Davis, and its acceptance in
sisted upon as the only thing he had left to
offer
THE TORTURE OF THE PRISONER.
Happening to notice that his coffee stood
cold apparently untastod beside his bed in
its tin cup, I remarked that here wus a con
tradiction of the assertion implied in the
old army question, “ Who ever saw cold
coffee in a tin cup ?” referring to the eager
ness with which soldiers of all classes, when
campaigning, seek for und use the beverage.
“I cannot drink it,” ho remarked
“though fond of coffee ull iny life. It is
the poorest article Af the sort I have over
tasted; and if your government pays for
such stuff as coffee, tho purchasingquarter
master must bo getting rich. It surprises
me, too, for I thought your soldiers must
have the best—many of my Generals oom
linlnlng of tho difficulties they encountered
n seeking to prevent our people from mak
ing volunteer truces with your soldiers
whenever the lines ran near each other, for
tho purpose of exchanging the tobncoo we
hud in abundunce against your coffee and
sugar.”
Told him to spend as little time in bed as
he could ; that exercise was the best medi
cine for dyspeptic patients. To this lie an
swered by uncovering the blankets from
his feet anil showing me his shackled
ankles.
** It is impossible for ino, Doctor; 1 cun not
even stand erect. These shackles are very
heavy; I know not, with the chain, how
many pounds. If I try to move they trip
me, and have already abraded broad patches
of sKin from the parts they toucji. Can you
►devise no means to pad or cushion them,
so that when I try to drag them along they
may not chafe me‘so intolerably? My
limbs have so little flesh on them, und that
so weak us lobe easily lacerated.”
At sight of this I turned away, promising
to see what could be done, as exercise was
the chief medical necessity in his case;
and at this moment the first thrill of sym
pathy for my patient was experienced.
That afternoon, at an interview sought
with Major General Miles, my opinion was
given that the physical concilium of State
prisoner Davis required tho removal of his
shackles, until such time as his health
should be established on some firmer basis.
Exercise ho absolutely needed, and also
some alleviation of his abnormal nervous
excitement. No drugs could aid a digestion
naturally weak and so impaired, without
exercise; nor could anything in tho phar
macopcea quiet nerves so overwrought and
shattered, while the continual irritation of
the fetters was counterpoising whatever
medicines might be given.
“You believe it, then, a medical necessi
ty ?” queried Gen. Miles.
“1 do most earnestly.”
“Then I will give the matter attention ;”
and at this point for the present the affair
ended.
May 20<A.~Called with the officer of the
day, Captain James B. King, at 1 P. M.
Found Mr. Davis in bed, complaining of
intense debility, but could not point to any
particular complaint. The pain in his head
had left him last night, but had been brought
back this forenoon and aggravated by the
noise of mechanics employed in taking
down the wooden doors between his cell ana
the exterior guard room and replacing these
with Iron gratings, so that he could at all j
times be seen by the sentries in the outside I
room as well as by the two “silent friends,”
who were the unspeaking companions of
his solitude.
Noticed that the prisoner’s dinner lay un
‘touched on its tin plate near his bedside, his
meals being brought in by a silent soldier,
who placed food on its table and then with
drew. Had remarked before thathe scarcely
touched the food served to him, his appetite
being feeble at best, and his digestion out of
ordei. I
Quitting him, called on General Miles,
and recommended that I be allowed to place
the prisoner on a diet corresponding with
his condition, which required light and
nutritious food. Consent was immediately
given, and I had prepared and sent over
from my quarters some tea and toast for his
evening’s meal.
Ceiling about 7 p. m., found Mr. Davis
greatly improved, the tea and toast having
given nim, he said, new life. Though he
had not complained of the fare, he was very
thankful for the change.
He then commenced talking, and let me
here say that I encouraged him in this, be
lieving conversation and some human sym
pathy the bestmedlcines that could be given
to one in bis state—on the subject of the
weather.
How has the weather been—rough or fair ?
In this huge casement, and unable to'orawl
to the embrasure, he oould not tell whether
the weather was rough or smooth, nor how
the wind "was blowing,
NUMBER 25.
* All my family are at sea, you are aware,
on their way to Savannah; and I know the
dangers of going down the coast at this sea
son of the year too well to be without intense
alarm. My wife and four children, with
other relatives, are on board the Clyde, and
these propellers roll dreadfully and are poor
sea-boats in rough weather.”
He then explained with great clearness or
detail, and evidently having studied the
subject, why the dangers of going down the
coast in rough weather were so much great
er than coming North. Going down, ships
bad to hug the shore—often running dan
gerously near the treaoherous horrors of
Cape Hatteras; while in running North they
stood out from land to catch the favoring
gulf stream, to avoid which they had to run
in shore as close as they could when steering
South.
He appeared intensely anxious on this
subject, recurring to it frequently and spec
ulating on the probable position of tho
Clyde at this time. “Should she be lost,”
he remarked, “it will be ' all my pretty
chickens and their dam at one fell swoop.’
It will be the obliteration of my name and
house.”
“Mrs. Davis, too,” he continued, “has
much to contend with. Her sister has beeu
very ill, and her two nurses left her while
here, and-she could procure no others. My
only consolation is, that some of my paroled
people are on board, and soldiers make ex
cellent nurses. Soldiers are fond of child
ren. Perhaps the roughness of their camp
life makes the contrasted playfulness of
infancy so pleasant. Charles of Sweden,
Frederick tne Great, and Napoleon, were
illustrations of this peculiarity. ✓The Duke
of Wellington is the ouly eminent com
mander or whom no trait of the sort Is re
corded.”
Talking of propellers, and how badly
they rolled In rough sea, I spoke of one
called the Burnside, formerly stationed at
Port Royal, of which tho common remark
was, that in every three roils she went clean
round.
“Once ” I added, “when her captain was
asked what was her draught of water, he
replied that he did not know to an inch tho
height of her smoke-stack, but it was from
the top of that to her keel.
This, and other anecdotes, amused tho
patient for some quarter of an hour ; and
whatever could give his mind a moment’s
repose was in the line of his cure.
As I was leaving, he asked had I been
able to do nothing to pad or cushion his
shackles? He could take no exercise, or
but the feeblest, and with great pain, while
they were on.
To this gave au evasive answer, not ,
knowing what might bo tho action of Gen
eral Miles, and fearing to excite false hopes.
No such naif-way measures as padatng
would suffice to meet tho necessities of his
case; while tbelr adoption, or suggestion,
might defer tho broader remedy that was
needed. On leaving, he requested me In
tho morning to note how the wind blow,
and tho prospocts of tho weather, before
paying him my visit. Until ho heard of
nls family's arrival in Savannah ho could
know no poaco.
I May 27w.—Called In the morning with
j thoomcoroftbeday,CaptainTitlow, Found
I Mr. Davis in bed, very weak and dospond-
I ing. He had not slept. Had been kept
I awake by the heavy surging of the wind
through the big trees on the other side of
I the moat. Appeared much relieved when
| I fold him tho breeze was nothing like a
| storm, though it blow north easterly, which
was favorable to the ship containing his
family.
Ho expressed groat concern lest his wifo
should hear through newspapers of the
scene in his cell when he was ironed. Would
It be published, did I think? And on my
remaining silent—for I knew it had been
sent to the newspapers on the afternoon of
its transpiring—he interlaced his Ungers
across his eyes, and ejaculated: “Oh, my
Eoor wife, my poor, poor girl! How the
eart-rending narrative will afflict her!”
He. remained silent ior some moments as
I sat beside his bed; and then continued,
extending his hand that I might feel his
pulse:
“ I wish she could have been spared this
knowledge. There was no necessity for the
act. My physical condition rendered it ob
vious that there could be no idea thnt let
ters wore needful to the security of my im-
prisonment. It was clear, therefore, that
the object was to offer an indignity both to
myself and the cause I represented—not
the less sacred to me because covered with
the pall of military disaster. It was for
this reason I courted death from the
muskets of the guard. The officer of the
day prevented that result, and, indeed.”—
bowing to CaptaLn Titlow—“ behaved like
a man of good feeling. But, ray poor wife!
I can see the hideous announcement with
its flaming capitals, and cannot but antici-
Eate how much her pride and love will both
e shocked. For myself I am resigned,
and now only say, ‘The Lord reprove
them!’ The physical inconvenience of
these things I still ieel (clanking his ankles
together under the bed-clothes)/but their
sense of humiliation is gone. Patriots in
all ages, to whose memories shrines are now
built, have suffered as bad or worso indig
nities.”
He took my remark in a wrong sense, as
f I had been hurt at his saying anything
:hat might cast a reflection on the Justice
that would be dealt to him by my govern
ment, or upon the style of journalism in
Northern newspapers. But I explained
that nothing could be fariher from my
thoughts: that my counsel was purely
medical, and to divert him from a theme
that must re-arouso the cerebral excito-
aent we were seeking to allay.
Called again at BP. M. same day. Mr.
Davis still very weak, and hau been
troubled with several faint, not exactly
fainting spells, his pulse indicating extreme
debility. He said the nights were very te
dious and haggard. During the day he
could And employment reading (tho Bible
or prayer-book being seldom out of bis
hand while alone), but during the night his
anxieties about his family returned; and
the foot-falls of the sentries in the room
with him—their verybreathlngor coughing
—continually called back his thoughts,
when otherwise and for a moment more
pleasantly wandering, to his present situa
tion. He had watched the weather all day
with intense interest; and bad been cheered
to observe from the slant of the rain that
the wind appeared to continue north-east,
so that he hoped his family were by this
time in Savannah. ■
Then went on to say that he Teared, after
he had been removed from the Clyde, his
wife must have suffered the annoyance of
having her trunks searched—an unneces
sary act, it seemed to him, as, of course, if
she had anything to conceal, she could have
got rid of it on the passage up.
On my remarking, to soothe him, that no
such search was probable, he said it could
hardly be otherwise. He had received a
suit of heavy clothes from tho propeller;
and General Miles, when informing nim of
the fact, had mentioned that there were
quite a number of suits there.
“And so, Doctor,” he went on,
think all the miserable details of my iron
ing have been placed before the public? It
is not only for the hurt feelings of my wife
and children, but for the honor of Ameri
cans that I regret it. My efforts to conceal
from my wife the knowledge of my suffer
ings are unavailing; and it were perhaps
better that she should know the whole
truth, as probably less distressing to her
than what may be the impressions of her
fears. Should I write such a letter to her,
however, she would never get it.”
He thanked me for the breakfast that had
been sent him, expressing the hope that I
would not let my wife be put to too much
trouble making broth and toast for one ho
helpless and utterly wretched.
“I wish, Doctor,” said he, “I could com
pensate you by getting well; but my cose
is most unpromising. Your newspapers.”
he went on—this with a grim smile—“should
pray for the success of your skill. If you
fail, where will their extra editions fie—
their startling head-lines? My death would
only give them iood for one or two days at
most; while my trial—for I suppose I shall
be given some kind of trial—would fatten
for them a month’s crop of incrative excite
ment.”
Finding the conversation, or rather his
monologue, running into a channel more
likely to excite than to soothe him—the lat
ter being the object for which I was always
willing to listen during the fifteen or twenty
minutes these interviews usually lasted
while he was seriously ill—l now rose to
| take my leave, gently hinting that he should
I avoid such thoughts and tonics as much as
I possible.
Sunday, May 28.—At eloveu A. M., this
morning was sitting on the porch in front
of my quarters when Captain Frederick
Korte, Third Pennsylvania Artillery, who
was officer of the day, passod toward the
coll of the prisoner, followed by the black
smith. This told the'stoiw, and sent a’ pleas-
I ant professional thrill of pride through my
veins
Did not lot Mr. Davis see me then, butre
tired, thinking it better the prisoner should
be left alono in tbo first moments of regain
ing so much of his personal freedom.
Culled again at 2 p. m. with the officer of
the day. Immediately on entering, Mr.
Davis rose from his seat, both bands extend
ed, and his eyes filled with tears. He was
evidently about to say something, but
checked himself; or was checked by a rush
of emotions, and sat down upon his bed,
I congratulated him on the change, ob
serving that my promise of his Boon feeling
better was being fulfilled; and he must
now take all the exercise that was possible
for him, for on this his future health would
depend. Captain Korte, too, Joined In my
«atk» of
traotlona of ft year. -
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congratulations very kindly, and spoke with
the Crank courtesy of a gontleman and sol
dier.
Recurring to the subject of his family.
Mr. Davis asked me hud I not been called
upon to attend Miss Howell, hla wife's
sister, who had been very ill at the time of
►bis quitting the Clyde, Replied that QoL
James, Chief Quartermaster, had called at
my quarters, and requested me to visit a
sick lady on board that vessel; believed it
was the lady he referred to, but could not
be sure of tno name. Had mentiouod the
matter to General Miles, asking a paas to
visit; but he objected, saying the orders
were to allow no communication with the
ship.
Mr. Davis exclaimed this was inhuman.
The ladies had certainly committed no
crime, and there were no longer any prison
ers on board the ship when the request was
made, he and Mr. Clay having noen the
last removed. The lady was very seriously
ill, and no officer, uo gentleman, no man of
Christian or oven human feeling, would
have so acted. General Miles was from
Massachusetts, ho had beard, and his action
both iu this and other matters appeared in
harmony with his origin. It was much for
Massachusetts to boast that one of her sons
had been appointed his Jailor; and it was
becoming such a jailor to oppress helpless
women and children. * * 9 *
Knfee and Spade.
Those who know say the cool weather
is just what is wanted to keepbaok fruit
buds and tender vegetution, whiohhave
a human fondness for throwingoff their
winter clothing as quick as the sun be
gins to produce the slightest cutaneous
irritation. Inasmuch as the buds look
so well, we are glad so much can be said
of this raw stretch of weather by way
of compensation. But every new fork
and rake and spade that has been car
ried out of town by amateurs and en
thusiasts, will now And work enough
to do. It is high time the scratching
and digging and preparation for plant
ing was well begun. Home soils permit
much earlier operation than othors,and
good gardeners do not forget it. The
crying fault, however, is from begin
ning too soon, and pushing ahead too
zealously. When a man nogs with his
garden work, it has lost its enticement
for him for that season at least; it la
much as it is with trout-flshlug, when
the angler feels that he would rather
eat his luncheon than cast his fly, he
might as well Joint his rod again and
wind hiß " leaders” aroundlilb hat.
Gardening is an old business, although
to those who love it a freßh and now in
vention every year. Tho llteraturo of
the garden la as fragrant os tho blos-
Boms that blow in our own Now Eng
land orchards. The Roman farmers
used to stylo their gardens, as compared
with agricultural labors, their “ dessert;”
and Cicero makes pleasant mention of
it in his matchless disquisition on Old
Age. Tho Middle Ago monks—sly
and shrewd dogs that they wore—look
ed out for nice garden spots close by
their keeps of learning; thoy knew
what luscious fruit was on the covetous
palate, and had a relish for it which
their solitary way of life only heighten
ed. The pleasantest portion of New
England literature Is that which con
tains allusions to the practice of garden
ing,—one of the quietest, most human
izing, and contentment breeding of
all pursuits. Cowly wanted nothing
more os the sum of his happiness,
than ” a small house and a large
garden.” Bacon’s stately and scien
tific treatment of the gardening busi
ness will always be admired as Bacon’s,
although it does not quite apply here
in New England: bpt we treasure it as
a worthy memorial to so delightful a
calling. Tennyson makes his verses,
many of them, sing like nightingales in
gardens. though the latter are rather
the product of Persian and Italian sug
gestions; but he admits the faot after
all, that they form an essential part of
domestic life in the country, by alluding
to one in description as “'half-house,
half-garden.” And there he has touched
the secret spring of ail the charm ; the
garden gate should open hard by the
kitchen door. Hence life simply over
flows andfllls the gardens too.
A good many of our suburban friends
make nonsense of their gardening
efforts, by having professional workers
do what they should perform them
selves. It is In the same spirit—or laok
of it —that some people get upholsterers
to furnish their houses, and cabinet
makers to build them libraries of
wooden books. Ornamentation has its
place and needs, certainly; but when
we speak of gardening, in the true and
homely sense, we refer to work such as
man may do with his own hands. For
six weeks to come, this work will be as
entloing as any that it falls to tho lot of
man to perform. The morning and
evening hours attract one to his seques
tered garden Bpot; there are plants to
be setout. earth is to bo dug over, weeds
are to be kept down, caterpillars are to
be exterminated, vines are to be trained,
grafting is to bo done, hoeing is to be
kept up unremittingly. The singing
birds will make the heaviest and sourest
heart cheerful and sweet, the dews scat
tered over the grasß will carry one back
in . thought to his boyhood, when he
drove the cows home—barefoot, whist
ling and alone, and every healthy senti
ment is nurtured and made strong by
the undisturbed influences that take up
their abode on so inviting a spot.
A garden is better than the best of
physicians, for very different reasons
from the cost only. Before the day’s
business in town, it quickens and invig
orates ; after tho wearisome hours are
over at evening, it soothes and solaces
and refreshes. It is as good for the spirit
as for the body, and that is more than
half there is to be said. Professional
men make it In a measure their place of
study, and literary workers meditate
their choicest fancies within its limited
confines. Men of business rub off the
cankering influences of the day’s con
tracts, while passing up and down its
cool alleys, and realize to their joy that
the world still leaves them themselves.
But with one’s own hands must the
garden tasks be performed. That is
the condition on which they become so
dear flb us. There are certain things
whicn cannot be done by proxy, and
these are among them. Hiring and
ordering is not gardening; we would
see the owner of a rural spot hoe his
own weeds, plant his own cabbages and
tomatoes, graft his own fruit trees, train
his own vines, and grow brown and
happy, healthy and contented by the
work that daily soils his own hands.
A neighborhood of gardens thus person
ally cultivated by their owners would
make a rural society of the most charm
ing character, because it would be after
a truly primitive simplicity.— Boston
Post,
No Balm.
Elder T having occasion to preach
in the town of Gilead, chose, what he
fancied, the appropriate text, “ Is there
no balm in Gilead ? Is there no physi
cian there ?" He tells the result:
It happened that among my hearers
was an old negro who had lived a great
many years in the family of the village
doctor, and nothing could rile the old
fellow so quick as the mere suggestion
that the doctor didn’t know any thing.
Every time that I repeated the text I
noticed the old darkey whioh I attribu
ted to the peculiar fervency of the Afri
can temperament; but, warming with
the subject, I repeated the text with un
usual pathos. “Is there no balm in
Gilead, and is there no physician there? 1 ’
Old Pomp could stand it no longer, and,
springing to his feet, he said : “ Don't
know noffln 'bout de balm, massa, but
dere’s jeß’ good doctor here as dere is In
de world.”
“ I Know He’s There.” '
The Syracuse (N. Y.) Courier tells
this story:
"How <V> you like Seward's Auburn
speech ?” said a Democrat to Gardner,
recently. “Oh, very well,” said Gard
ner. “ But,”said the Democrat, “don’t
you see that he commenced by an as
sault on our party!” “ Yes,” returned
Gardner, " but I am like the boy Who
tired himself out digging for a wood
chuck, when he put In his hand to find
the direction of the hole, and thd wood
chuck bit it badly. ‘Are you.. hurt,'
said the boy’s companion to him. ‘ Yes,’
said he, ‘ but I’m a—d glad he' bit me,
1 for how I know he’s there I’ ”