The thought came hurriedly to his mind, Can this be republican America? or are we the victims of French and Austrian despotism? When a prisoner entered the portals of this Fort, he was dead, so far, at least, as the outside world was concerned, and soon found himself subject to the unbridled caprice of a "despotism that knew no bounds."

On entering the Fort, Mr. Johnson was taken to the office of the Commandant, who, on learning his name and residence, entered them in a register, without preface or apology. He then, with the sangfroid of a highwayman, demanded his watch, money, gold pencil, studs, finger-rings, medicines, trunk-key, etc., as unnecessary to be retained by the prisoner. Mr. Johnson says, "I handed them over reluctantly to a man of whom I had formed a bad opinion." He was then taken to an anteroom, accompanied by a sergeant and two soldiers, to manage him, should he prove refractory. Here he was divested of his clothing, and searched. They were rewarded with finding in his breast-pocket two percussion-caps, which were, no doubt, laid before the eyes of the astonished Lieutenant as dangerous matter; perhaps, diminutive torpedoes by which the massive foundations of the Fort were to be blown to atoms. After this was accomplished, he was dismissed, and told that his trunk would be sent to him when examined.

He was then taken to Battery No. 6, a long room on a level with the ground, and having a brick floor. Here he was furnished with an iron stretcher, a mattress, and a blanket. This room contained five heavy cannons, mounted on carriages, ranged side by side, and each pointed through a porthole, so as to command the channel. The place was filthy, damp, and dark-the air fetid and unwholesome. He found in it some forty-seven prisoners, crammed together among the gun-çarriages, and as uncomfortable as they could be made. These persons soon instructed him in the discipline of the Fort, which consisted of every petty annoyance that could be invented to render the situation of a prisoner disagreeable, and, if possible, to break down his spirit, destroy

his manhood, and cause him to accept such terms as were prescribed by the Administration as the price of liberty.

The Bastile, like death, brings to an equality all it swallows up. The undaunted patriot, guilty of no crime but that of maintaining the rights of a freeman, and who dared to speak in opposition to the Administration, is treated with more severity than the wretch, who would betray his country for gold. Here were men wearing the insignia and uniform of an honorable service, degraded to be the tools of a despotism that has scarcely a parallel even in the Bastile of France. They were sensible of the shameful and cowardly service imposed, and sought to justify themselves as the agents of a lawful power, saying that "they simply obeyed orders." They had given themselves up as willing instruments of outrage and wrong, and felt that an ignominious punishment would be a just reward for their compliance. Had they not lost all self-respect, and submitted themselves, as mere machines to do the will of arbitrary power, they would have felt the dishonor of their work sticking as close to them as did "the poisoned shirt of Nessus to the back of Hercules." Mr. Johnson was subjected to the rigor and petty tyranny of a shoulder-strapped turnkey, who compelled the prisoners to submit to the taunts and insults of the sentinels put over them, night and day. The prisoners were reprimanded or punished if they retorted, or resented the taunts or acts of the soldiery, some of whom took every occasion to insult them. They were compelled to go to the sally-port and ask permission of the Sergeant to go to the other prisoners' quarters, or to draw a bucket of water out of the cistern at their own door. The same permission was required to get coal or wood. They were compelled, also, to stay in their apartments, or within a space of fifteen feet square in front of them, except for a few moments, morning and evening, when all the prisoners, except Soulé, Mazzaran, and Thomas, were allowed to mingle together in the open court, a space about thirty yards square, within the Fort. This was all the exercise allowed.

The wives and friends of the inmates who came to visit them, after first going to Washington, and, as a great favor, obtaining a pass from Secretary Stanton to enter, were required to hold their conversations, which were limited to an hour, in the presence of the Commandant. At the close of these interviews, a guard marched the prisoners back to their quarters, and the visitors were set on shore. The interviews were duly noted and reported to Washington, with such comments as were thought proper and necessary.

At sunset, the prisoners were compelled to "get into their holes." The doors were locked upon them, while the window on the same side, large enough to admit a man's body, was left open. They were not allowed to talk or have a light after 9 o'clock P.M.; and, as Mr. Johnson was informed, the sentinel had, a short time before he arrived, fired through this window on the prisoners for conversing, in disobedience of orders. They were not allowed conversation with the soldiers, and on one occasion, when one of the latter was arranging the window, or fire-grate, an officer with an armed sentinel stood by for hours, to prevent communication. When a ship was fired on, in order to make her return and report to the revenue-cutter, they were all locked up; and on one occasion, when the British ship "Dispatch" refused to return, but anchored under the guns of the Fort, they were kept confined for forty-eight hours. They were also locked up when those in solitary confinement were taken into the presence of the Commandant.

THE MANIAC.

"A scheming villain forged the tale
That chains me in this dreary cell:
My fate unknown, my friends bewail;
O sentry,' haste that fate to tell!
Oh, haste my 'mother's' heart to cheer;
Her heart, at once, 't will grieve and glad
To know, though chained and captive here,

I am not mad! I am not mad!"

There was confined in one of the cells of Fort Lafayette,

a poor prisoner from Baltimore. He was a "political prisoner," and manifested symptoms of insanity. His friends, and some of the physicians who were among the prisoners, called Lieutenant Wood's attention to the case. He treated 'the

statement with contemptuous indifference at the time; but a few days afterward, the prisoner was sent to the guard-house. Instead of being sent instantly to the asylum, he was kept in the guard-house, and in double irons.

His cell was darkened, a sentry marched night and day before his prison-door; and he was permitted no intercourse, not even to see the other prisoners or friends. Surrounded by strange soldiers, he was, at times, apparently in an agony of dread. His shrieks were fearful, and one dark night, when he imagined he was about to be murdered, his screams were painfully startling to hear. In some of these paroxysms, he was actually gagged by the soldiers. So strict was his confinement, that when an aged and widowed mother, who for months had been seeking to obtain an interview with her son, at last, having obtained it, came one Sabbathday to visit him, he was taken from his dungeon to the Commandant's room, in which she was permitted to see him, by a file of soldiers detailed to guard him from his cell; but not before all the other prisoners were locked in their rooms, and a double guard placed in the sally-port. A letter written by one of the prisoners to the counsel of the unfortunate man, in Baltimore, urging the exercise of his influence with the Government, on behalf of the sufferer, was not allowed to reach its destination, although directed to the care of Lieutenant-General Scott. He was detained in the Fort until he became a raving maniac. In this condition, Mr. Stanton's oath of loyalty was administered to him, and he placed on shore as helpless as a child. He would doubtless have perished, had he not been picked up and cared for by strangers. In this instance, a kind Providence threw in his way Mr. Hopkins and Mrs. Gelston, who cared for him until his friends could come to their relief, and bear him home to an early grave.

It may be asked, could it be possible, that these things

should occur in a Christian community, and not arouse every instinct of our natures to right the wrong? We forget, when we ask that question, that a prisoner within the walls of Fort Lafayette was beyond the reach of the process of the courts. A brass six-pounder, derisively called the "habeas corpus," stood loaded, to guard the sally-port of the Fort, and sweep out of existence the Sheriff and his posse, should he attempt to execute a writ of habeas corpus on the commander. A prisoner could have no communication with his friends, except by permission, and thus every right of a freeman being outraged, he could have no means of making known his complaints, or of publicly exposing the crimes committed by those in authority.

Mr. Johnson says: "Here you would see men from almost all the States, the largest portion of whom were in the vigor of manhood. You would find men who had ably represented our Government at foreign courts, had adorned the United States Senate, been Governors of States, Judges of Courts, members of Congress, State legislators, doctors, lawyers, farmers, and indeed almost all departments of business were here represented, not one of whom was tainted with any crime."

At reveille the doors were unlocked, and light and air admitted to the prisoners. Shortly after, breakfast would be announced, when they were marched under guard, a few yards, to Battery No. 1. Here was set a long table, made by placing rough pine boards on trestles, so as to raise it about the height of a man's breast, when standing. On this table, assigned to each prisoner, was a dirty tin plate, with a piece of bread, and a tincup of what was called coffee, made and sweetened in a large iron vessel. This was the breakfast. Supper was the same, with the addition of a raw onion occasionally, as an antiscorbutic. Dinner, which was the chief meal, consisted of a cup of water, a piece of boiled fat pork, cold, and a piece of bread. When the scurvy made its appearance among some of the prisoners, fresh meat and vegetables were sometimes allowed. The cutlery consisted of a pocket-knife, if