ted to earnest pathos, "or if they have been sent, their letters to me have been suppressed. Won't you see whether there are any letters for me at the Provost Marshal's office?"

As likely as not, the Superintendent would reply

"There are several letters for you at the office of the Provost Marshal, but they are not examinedsome of the Miss Nancy clerks up there have got to be so important in their own estimation since they have got into the position of examining letters, that they take on airs and do as they please. I cannot help it if your letters are not forwarded, or if letters to you do not reach you."

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"We know that, Mr. Wood," several voices would exclaim in concert. But," one would continue, "it is hard to be deprived of the privilege of hearing from one's home before one is convicted of any crime and it is equally an outrage to one's family to be deprived of the privilege of hearing from him in a place like this."

"I know it is hard," would be the admission of Mr. Wood, "but you fellows had no business to be loco-focos."

This of course would be a jest so far as the Superintendent was concerned, but it was no joke for the prisoners. Their crime was truly that they were what the Superintendent called loco-focosand for that they were kidnapped and imprisoned, and deprived of the privilege of hearing from their families, except at the caprice of "Miss Nancy" clerks in the office of the Provost Marshal at Washington.

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Wood, here is a letter-a very short one-containing nothing but to say that I am well; cannot this be sent to my wife without its being subjected to the risk of being destroyed in the office of the Provost Marshal "

Such would be the appeal of a prisoner. Mr. Wood's reply would be much as follows

"I cannot send any letters for you except through the Provost Marshal, or Judge Advocate Turner but I will do my best to have your letter examined and passed."

"Here is a business letter, Wood," another of the prisoners would urge. "It is of the most vital importance to me and to my family that it should reach its address as soon as possible; why cannot it be sent immediately?"

"That I cannot answer," would be the reply of the Superintendent. "I am here to carry out the orders of the Government, and not to do my own will. The Government, or rather the officers of the Government, have their own way of doing things, and I must either obey their orders or give up my place."

"We would all be sorry that you did that," would be the sincere intimation of the prisoners."If you were not here, Wood, we should not receive one in ten of our letters, nor would our friends know whether we were dead or alive."

The very first letter sent out by one of the prisoners called forth the following decree:

1862.

HEADQUARTERS PROVOST MARSHAL'S OFFICE, WASHINGTON, D. C. Nothing but family and business letters are allowed to pass.

W. V. C. MURPHY.

This signature had something affixed to it. which no one could make any sense of, but it was proba bly designed to show that this Murphy was a person of authority. Whether he was or not, it is very certain that he assumed a good deal of it in opening papers and letters, and in throwing them aside or

destroying them if they contained anything which he deemed to be objectionable to his tyrant masters. Shortly after this, the same prisoner was served with a decree to the effect that if his wife did not write her name in full, her letters would be suppressed. What thinks the reader of this petty tyranny, instituted at Washington by Lincoln's Administration. The same Murphy, whose name was signed to the foregoing, was the author of this decree also, though probably he was only the tool of some one else who owned him as a master.

Scenes similar to that described above between the Superintendent and the prisoners, were of daily Occurrence. No one knows who did not experience it, what it is to be expecting a letter from home in the Old Capitol, knowing that it must first pass through the office of the Provost Marshal, or the inspection and approval of Judge Advocate Turner, before it reaches him. Meditating upon this phase of tyranny, one of the prisoners thus soliloquised:

How wretched is that man who hangs on prince's favors, but how much more wretched he whose mind swings 'twixt despair and hope while trusting to a tyrant's heartless rule.

Oh! did we Americans ever think 'twould come to this-that one man's will, and he the people's servant, should set all other rules at naught, and arrogate to his selfwill supremacy over people, Government and law.

What despot, what usurper, tyrant, did ever more than this? Cæsar, a noble despot, who gave to Rome, his country, immortality, and entwined her glory with his own ambition, lost his life for less of usurpation than our rulers have presumed. So did the kingly Charles lose his head for a far less transgression on the liberties of England. And shall it be borne now that citizen born freemen, men made free by law, shall be subjected to a worse than kingly

or Imperial despotism, by a mere creature of their will and power. It shall not be, by heaven and by the blood of our ancestral sires, shed to secure our freedom's heritage; no man, much less our public servants, shall with impunity make serfs of us.

Our tyrant rulers did not hear this soliloquy, although they read something like it in some of the letters from the prisoners, written more for their eye than with any expectation that these letters would ever reach their destination, which, of course, they never did.

The tyranny which prevented the Old Capitol Prisoners from sending and of receiving letters resulted, as might be supposed, in driving them_to have recourse to other means than through the Superintendent to forward their letters. It is needless to say how this was done; for although every effort to send out letters surreptitiously was not successful, several such efforts were so that, despite the Secretary of War, his Provost Marshals, and his detective spies, the Old Capital Prisoners of State did communicate with their wives and children. O! how one's blood warms with indignation at the outrages to which he was subjected by that infamous man, Stanton, and by his villainous Assistant, Watson and his tool L. C. Turner. Were it not that vengeance belonged to the Lord God, not one of those tyrants would die a natural death. If they should do so, it will be by the mercy and favor of God, and not of that of their fellow American citizens whom they have so grossly outraged, so tyranically subjected to indignity, so heartlessly robbed of every personal right of man and of American freemen.

NELLIE GREY CAME NEAR GETTING US IN TROUBLE.

One day in September, à regiment, which we' learned was the 19th Connecticut, was drawn up in line before the west side of the Old Capitol. The prisoners in No. 16, as was usual when a regiment made its appearance in the vicinity, crowded to the large window which fronted that side of the prison. The regimental band came to the front and discoursed some of the popular airs so eloquently that the prisoners were sensibly affected; and presuming that it was as much for their gratification as it was for anything else that this musical concert was given in such a place and on such an occasion, the prisoners, at the suggestion of Dr. Brown, who was par excellence the leader of the choir of No. 16, it was determined to return the compliment, as we took it, of the regiment. So after consulting a minute as to what it were better to sing, the popular melody "Nellie Gray " was adopted, and Dr. Brown leading off, some twenty prisoners joined him in giving it the best effect. Scarcely, however, was the song commenced before the regiment appeared in considerable agitation and disorder. Orders seemed to have been given it to do something or other, as the men who had till then been at rest were handling their arms preparatory to some movement. Surely, thought we, they are not going to present arms to us. But we were soon undeceived as to the cause of their commotion. Superintendent Wood came rushing up to No. 16 almost breathless with haste, excitement and displeasure, vociferating as loud as he could find breath to do," For God's sake come away from that window; they will shoot you." Sure enough, by that time we had perceived sufficient of the movements of the ruffians to be satisfied