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THE WASHINGTON GAZETTE.
JAS. A. WRIGHT, AGENT.
THE WASHINGTON GAZETTE.
Tauts—Three Dollars a year, ta advance.
JEFFERSON DAVIS IN PRISON.
The Prison Life of Jefferson Da
vis—By Lieut. Col. John J. Craven,
M. D, late Surgeon -U. S. Volunteers,
and Physician of the Prisoner, Carle
ton : New York.
The story of the imprisonment of the
illustrious personage whose name and fame
are linked inseparably with the fortunes of
the Confederate cause, possesses peculiar
interest, sspecially when written by one
evidently moved by manly impulses, and
a respect for the truth of history. We
cannot at this time attempt any critical
_ notice of tbs work, or give more than one
of two extracts, but promise to return to it
from time to time, until we have given our
readers a fair chance to judge of the in
terest and value of the work. Wo begin
with
HR. DAVIS USHERED INTO PRISON.
Jftiy 21, 1865—The procession into the
fort was under the immediate inspection of
Major-General llalleck and Charles A.
Dana, then Assistant Secretary of War;
Colonel Pritchard, of the Michigan caval
ry, who immediately effected the capture,
being the officer in command of the guard
from the vessel to the fort. First came
Major-General Miles holding the arm of
Mr. Davis, who was dressed in a suit of
plain Confederate gray, with a gray slouch
ed hat—always thin, and now looking
rnneh wasted and ,*ery haggard. Imme
diately after these came Colonel Pritchard
accompanying with a guard of
soldiers in (heir rear. Thus they passed
ehMsigh Alee of men in blue from the En
gineer’* Landing to the Water Battery
Postent; sad on arriving at the casemate
'which'had been fitted up into cells for
incarceration, Mr. Davis was shown j
sets easement Mo. two and Clay into No.
of"soldiers being stationed in
the cells numbered one, three, and five,
eipon each side of them. They ontered;
tjle heavy -doors clanged behind them, and
In that clang was rung the final knell of
the terrible, but not extinct rebellion.
Being ushered into his inner cell by
General Miles, and the two doors leading
Aheceisto from the guardroom being fasten
ed, Mr. Davis, after surveying the premises
for some moments, and looking out through
the embrasure with such thoughts passing
/Over his lined and expressive face as may
be imagined, suddeely seated himself in a
chair, placing both hands on bis kuees, and
asked one of the soldiers pacing up and
dostn within Jtis cell thia significant ques
tion: “Which way does the ombrasure
face?”
The soldier was silent
Mr. Davis, raising his voico a little, re
peated the inquiry.
But again dead silence, or only the
measured footfalls of the two pacing pa
cing sentries within, and the fainter echoes
of the four without.
Adchcsqing the other soldier, as if the
.first had been deaf and had not heard him,
the prisoner again repeated bis inquiry.'
But the second soldier remained silent,
as the first, a slight twitching of his eyes
only intimating that be had heard the ques
tion, but was forbidden to speak.
said Mr. Davis, throwing his
banda up and breaking into a bitter laugh,
“I wish raf men could have been taught
your discipline!’ and then, rising from his
chair, he commenced pacing back and
fourth before the embrasure, now looking
at the silent sentry across the moat, end
anon at the twou silently pacing soldiers
- who were his companions in the case
ment.
His sole reading-matter, a Bible and
prayer-book, his only .companions those
two silent guards, his only food the ordi
nary rations of bread and &es served out
to the soldiers of the garrison—(bus passed
the jfint day and night of the ex-I’resi
dent’s confinement.
pa the 23d day of May, the third day
of hia imprisonment, he underwent being
put in irons— ‘a trial severer,’ says, Dr.
jb raven, 'than has ever been inflicted upon
eoy one who has enjoyed such eminence.’
Captain Titlow, of the Third Pennsylva
nia Artillery, was sent to see it performed.
WASHINGTON, WILKES COUNTY, GA., FRIDAY MORNING, JULY 6,1866.
now UR. DAVIS WAS PUT IN IRONS.
‘Well 1’ said Mr. Davis as they entered,
slightly raising hU head.
‘I have an unpleasant duty to peiform,
sir,’ said Capt. Titlow, and as he spoke,
the senior blacksmith took the shackles
from his assistant.
Davis leaped instantly from his recum
bent attitude, a flush passing over his face
for a moment, and then his countenance
growing livid and rigid as death.
He gasped for breath, clutching his
throat with the thia fingers of hi* right
hand, and then recovering himself slowly,
while Ms wasted figure towered up to ijs
full height—now appearing to swell with
indignation, and men to shrink with ter
ror, as he glanced from the Captain’s face
to the shackles—be said slowly and with a
laboring chest:
•My God! you cannot have been sent to
iron me!’
“Such are my orders, sir,’ replied the
officer, beckoning the blacksmith to ap
proach, who stepped forward, unlocking
the padlock, and preparing the letter* tod*
their office. These fetter* were of heavy
iron, probably five eighths of an inoh in
thickness, and oonneoted together by a
chain of like weight. I believe they are
now in the possession of Major Gen. Miles,
and will form an interesting relic.
‘This is 100 monstrous,’ groaned the pris
oner, glaring hurriedly round the r<R>m,
as if for some weapon or moans of self
destruction. ‘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?'
‘lt could serve no purpose,’ replied Capt.
Titlow; ‘his orders are from Washington,
ns mine are from him.’
‘But he can telegraph,’ interposed Mr.
Davis, eagerly; ‘there jnust be some mis
take. No such outrage as you threaten
ms in tl»
tions. Beg Mm to telegraph* and
until he answers.”
‘My orders ate peremptory,’ said the
officer, ‘and admit of no delay. For your
own sake let me advise you to submit with
patieuce. Asa soldier, Mr. Davis, you
know I must execute orders.’
'These are not orders for a soldier,’ shout
ed the prisoner, losing all control of him
self. They are orders for a jailor—for a
hangman, which no soldier wearing a
Bwordshould accept! I tell you the world
will ring with this disgrace. The war is
over; the South is conquered ; I have no
longer any country but America, and it is
for the boner of America, as for my-own
honor and life, that I plead against, this
degradation. Kill me! kill me 1’ he cried,
passionately, throwing his arras wide open
and exposing his breast, ‘rather than in
flict on me, and on my people through me,
this insult worse than death.’
‘Do your duty, blacksmith,’ said the of
ficer, walking toward the embrasure as if
not caripg to witness the performance. ‘lt
only gives increased pain on all sides to
protraetkhis interview,’
At these words the blacksmith advanced
with the shackles, and seeing that the pris
oaer had one foot upon the chair near his
bedside, hia right hand resting on the back
of it, tbe brawny mechanic made an at
tempt to slip one'of the shackles over the
ankle so raised, but, as if with, the vehe
mence and strength which frenzy can im
part, even to the weakest invalid, Mr. Davis
suddenly seized his assailant, and hurled
him half way across the room.
On this Capt. 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
mufd be enforced at any cost. ‘Why com
pel me,’ he said, ‘to add the further indig
nity of personal violence to tho necessity
of your being ironed ?’
‘I am a prisoner of war,’ fiercely retorted
Davis; ‘I have been a soldier in the armies
of America; and know how to die. Only
kill me, and .my last breath shall bap
blessing on your bead. Bat while I have
life and strength to resist, for myself and
for my people, this thing shall not he
done.’
Hereupon Capt, Titlow called in a sjr
geant and a file of soldiers from the next
room, and the Bergeant advanoed to seize
the prisoner. Immediately Mr. Davis flew
•on him, seized his musket and attempted to
wrench it from his grasp.
Os course such a scene could have but
one issue. There was a short, passionate
souffle. In a moment Mr. Davis was
flung upon his bed, and before bis four
powerful assailants removed their hands
from him, the blacksmith and his assistant
had done their work—one securing the
rivet on the right ankle, jrhile the other
turhed the key in the padlock on the left.
This done, Mr. Davis lay for a moment
as if in stupor. Then slowly raising him
self and turning round, he dropped his
shackled feet to the floor. The harsh
clank of tbe striking chain seems first to
have recalled him to his situation, and
dropping his face into bis hands, he burst
into a passionate flood of sobbing, rocking
to and fro, and muttering at brief inter
vals ; ‘Ob, tbe shame, the ehamel’ *
THE WAYIO KEE PH IX.
“Out again to-night?” said tin. Hayes,
fretfully, u her husband rose fro* the ten
t-Hek, and donned his great ooat.
®Yes, I have an engagement with Moore,
I shall be in early; have a light in tho
library. $00(1 night." And with a oaro
lesß nod, William Hayes left the room.
“Always the way," murmured Lizzie
Hayes, sinking back upon the sofa. Out
every night. I dou’t believe be cares one
bit about me now, and yet Wve boon
married only two years. No man can
have a more orderly house lam sure, I
never go any where I am uot a bit ex
travagant ; and yet I don’t believe he loves
me any more. 0, dear, why it it? I wasn't
rioh; be did not marry me for my money,
and he must have loved liie then ; why
does he treat me with so much neg
lect?” And with her mind-filled with such
frightful queries, Lizzie fell asleep on the
sofa.
■ Bet me print W
She was a blonde, with a 11 knii.gr-aceft"..
figure and a pretty face; Tbe hair which
showed by its rich waves its natural tenden
cy to curl, was brushed smoothly back,
and gathered into a rich knot at tbe back
—it was such • bother to curl it, she said
—her oheek was pale, and the whole face
wore a discontented expression. Her dress
was a neat chintz wrapper, hot she wore
neither collars nor sleeves. ‘‘What’s the
uso of dressing up just for Wiliam ?"
Lizzie slept soundly for two hours, and
then awoke suddenly. She sat up, glanced
at the clock, and sighed drearily at the
prospect of the long interval still
spent before bedtime.
The library was just over the room in
which she sat, and down tbe furnace-flue,
through the register, a voice came to the
youug wile's ears. It was her husband’s.
“Well, Moore, what’s a man to do? I must
have pleasure somewhere. Who would
have fancied that Lizzie Jarvis, so pretty,
sprightly, and loving, could change to the
fretful dowdy she is now ? Who wants to
stay at home to bear his wife whining all
the evening about her troublesome servants,
and her hoadaeho and all sorts of bothers ?
She’s got the knack of that drawling
wliino so pat, 'pon my life I don’t believe
she can speak plesantly,"
Lizzie sat as if stunned. Was this true ?
She looked in the glass. If not exactly
dowdy, her costume was oertainly not
suitable for an evening with only William to
admire. She rose, and softly went to her
room, with bitter, sorrowful thoughts, and a
firm resolution, to win back her husband’s
heart, and then, bis love regained, to
keep him. * *
Tbe next morning William came into
the breakfast room with bis usual careless
manner, but a bright smile came on his
lips as be saw Lizzie. 'A pretty chintz,
with neat .collar and sleeves.of snow-white
muslin, with a wreath of soft full curls,
had really raeUrooipbosed her; while tbe
blush her husband's admiring glance called
up to her chaqk did not detract from her
befifity, 4t first William thought there
must be a guest, but glancing around, he
found they were alone. «
“Come, William, your coffee will soon
be cold,” said Lizzie, in acheerfuT pleasant
voice,
“It must cool till you sweeten my break
fast with a kiss,” said ber husband crossing
tbe room to her side, and Lizzie’s heart
bounded as she recognized the old lover’s
tone aDd manner.
Not one fretful speech, not one com
plaint fell upon William’s ear through the
meal. The newspaper, the usual solace
at that hour, lay untouched, asLizzie chatted
gaily ou every pleasant topic she could
think of, warming by his grateful interest
and cordial manner.
“You will be at home to dinner?” she
said, as he went out.
“Can’t to-day, Lizzie, I’ve business out
of town but I’ll be homo early to tea.
Have something substantial, for I don’t
expect to dine. Good-bye” And tbe smi
ling look, warm kiss, and lively whistle were
a mecked contrast to bis lounging careless
gait of the previous evening.
“I am in tbe right path,” said Lizzie in a
low whisper. ‘Ob, what a fool I have
been for the last two years! A fretful
dowdy.’ William, you a thall nevor say
that again.”
Lizzie loved ber husband »iih a real
wifely devotion, and ber lips would quiver
as sbo thought of the confidence to bis
friend Moore; but like a brave little woman
she stifled back tbe bitter feeling, and
tripped off to perfect ber plans. Tho grand
piano, silent for months, was opened, and
the linen covers taken from tho furniture,
Lizzie saying, “lie shan’t find any parlors
more pleasant than his own, I’m determin
ed.” .
Tea-time, and William came with it. A
little figure in a tasty, bright silk dress
smooth curls; and oh 1 such a lovely blush
andsftnile, stood ready to welcome William
as be eame iu ; and tea-time passed as the
morning meal had done. After tea there
was no movement as usual toward tbe bat
rack. William stood up beside tbs table
lingering and chatting, until Lizzie arose.
She led him to the light, warm parlor, in
tboir uretty glow of tasteful nrra%gruent,
ast*hnsy
fancy needle-work, and listerfST Id tbfc
cheerful voice be had loved so dearly two
years before.
“What are you making, Lizzie ?”
“A pair of slippers. Don’t you remem
ber how much you admired tho pair I
worked for you—oh 1 ever so long
ago f”
“I remember—black velvet, with flow
ers on them. I used to pnt my feet
on the fenders' and dream of blue eyes
and bright curls, and wished time would
move faster to the day when I could bring
my bonny wife homo to make music in
my bouse.”
Lizzie’s face saddened for a moment, as
sbe thought of tbe last two years, and how
little music sbe bad made lor bis loving
heart, gradually weaning it from its Alle
giance, and then she said :
“I wonder if you love music as you did
then ?”
“Os course I do. I very often drop into
Mrs. Smith's for nothing else thnn to bear
the music.”
“I can play and sing better than Mrs.
Smith,” said Lzzie, pouting.
But you always say you are out of
practice when I ask you.
“I had the piano tuned this morning.
Now open it and wo will see how it
sounds.”
William obeyed joyfully, and tossing
aside her sewing, Lizzie took tho piano
stool. Sbe had a very sweet voice, not
powerful, but most musical, and was a
very fair performer on the piano.”
“Ballad, Lizzie;’
‘'Oh". yee )( l know you dislike opera music
ill a parlor.’
One song after another, with a nocturne
or lively instrumental piece, occasionally,
between them, filled up another hour
pleasantly.
The little mantel clock struck eleven ?
“JJleven I I thought it was about nine.
1 ought to apologize, Lizzie, as I used to do
for staying so long; and I can truly, as I
did then,that the time has passed so pleas
antly I can scarcely believe it so late.’
The piano was closed, Lizzie’s work put
up in the basket, and William was ready
to go up staire; but glancing back, he saw
VOL. L—NO. 11.
his little wife near the fire place, her hands
; clasped, and her head bent, and large tears
falling from ber eyes. He was beside her
in an instant.
“Lizzie, darling, aie you ill ? What it,
the matter ?’
“Ob, William, I have been such a bad
wife, I heard you tell Mr. Moore lost even
ing how I had disappointed you; but
I will try to make your home pleasant.
Indeed I will, if you will forgive and love
me.’
“Lovo you! Ob, Lizzie, "you can't guess
how dearly I love you 1’
As the little wife lay down that night,
she thought—
“l have won him back again ! Better
than that, I have learned the way to keep
him I’
THE POWER OF CIPHERS.
The enlightened man may have a clear
understanding of thousands and eren mil
lions; hut much beyond that he can form no
distinct idea. A simple, example, and one
easily solved, will illustate the observation.
If all the vast bodies of water that cover
nearly three-souths of the globe were
emptied into one grand reservoir, the
whole number of drops could de written by
two words, “eighteen seetillions,” and ex
pressed in figures by annexing twenty-four
ciphers to the number eighteen(l 8,000,000,.
000,000,000,000,000,000.) Man might as
well attempt to explore tbe bounds of eter-'
nttyas to form any rational idea of the
units embodied in the expression above;
for although the aggregate of drops is in
dicated by figures in the space of only one
inch and a half in ordinary print, yet, if
each particular drop were noted by a sep
arate stoke like the figure 1, it would form
ft lino of marks sufficiently long to wind
rouud the sun six thousand billions of
times 1
Now, observe, if you please, thfmarvel
ous power or valuo which the ciphers,
insignificant by themselves, give the signifi
cant figures 18- The young reader will to
i&irs, now jttOetieed by every
schoolboy, was Itnknown to tha’stheients,
Therefore, among the Greeks and Roman*
and other tiatio: a of antiquity arithmetical
operations were txceedisgly tedious and
difficult. They h <i to reckon with pob—
les, shells, or beads, used as counters, to
transact the ordinary business of life.
Even tho great Cicero, in his oration for
ltosoiuv, tbe actor, in order to express three
hundred thousand, had to make use of tbe
very awkward and cumbrous notation,
cociooo cccioao ccciooa. How very
odd this seems: “In the year of our
Lord mdccclxvi!” (180G).— Educational
Monthly.
— —
“Logan,” who was in Loufsvillo, Ky., a
few days since, in a letter to the Standard,
thus writes of George D. Prentics, the
world-renowned editor of the Journal-.
“He is a homely and shabby lopking
specimen of humanity; had on a pair of
worn out slippers, a dirty shirt, seedy cost,
and evidently had not washed bis face in
several weeks. But such is not unfrequent
ly the garb of genius—an eccentric way
that great men often adopt for being dis
tinguished from the masses. I regret that
my curiosity'ever sought an introduction
to Geoiga D. Prentice, for, while I cansot
but admire him as a journalist, scholar, poet
and wit, tlie remenbranco of his personal
appearance must ever detract from tbe
sublimity of bis effusions.” ■-»«*
A few nights since, some young men,
going from New York to Albany in tbe
cars, were getting rather noisy and profane,
when a gentleman in a white cravat tap
ped one of them upon tbe shoulder with
the remark, “Young man, do yon know
you are on the road to perdition ?’ ‘That’s
just my luck,’ said the ’young man; ‘I
took a ticket for Albany, and I’ve got on
the wrong train.’
A bickering pair of Quakers were late
ly heard in high controversy, tho] husband
exclaiming, 'I am determined to have one
quiet week with thee!’ ‘But how wilt
thou bo side to get it ?’ said tbe taunting
spouse iu ‘reiteration,’ which married la
dies so provokingly indulge in. *1 will
keep thee a week after thou art dead,’ was
the Quaker’s rejoinder.
