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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.