decency, forbids a minute description of the scene in the inidst of which he passed those miserable days and more miserable nights. And yet his age, appearance, and charac ter had their effect even upon the wretches who surrounded him. They soon began to regard him with kindness and consideration. A fellow-prisoner thus describes Mr. Douglas's situation at this time and in this place:

"A large number of prisoners, perhaps four hundred, occupied the hay-loft, and a larger number the stables below. After having seen Captain Barlow in regard to my quarters, and securing certain privileges for myself, he remarked to me that they were having a lively time in the front stable. An old gray-haired man was in there preaching to the soldiers, and he seemed to understand his business. He added that it was a bitter shame to have that old Christian gentleman in there, but that he could not help it. He was charged with giving signal-lights to the rébels; he (Captain B.) did not beieve it, but General Morris did, and there was no use in trying to get him out. He asked me to look through the bars and see if I knew the prisoner. He was holding service. At its conclusion, I looked in and saw him seated upon a board, and when he arose and approached, I at once recognized him, and we shook hands. We had some conversation, and as we parted he said, (in a full, earnest voice,) 'They may put me in prison; they may confine my body; but they cannot imprison my spirit and my soul. I have plenty of work in here for my Master, and, by his grace, I intend to do it.' He constantly held prayer in that stable, and his fellow-prisoners, as far as I could ascertain, exercised toward him the greatest affection and reverence." Soon after, by the kindness of the Provost Marshal, Mr. Douglas was taken from the horsestable and placed in somewhat more comfortable quarters, with his young friend and other state prisoners.

The record of the imprisonment of Fort McHenry is too well known to make it necessary to add that his exposure and sufferings were still great, too great for one of his age and failing health to endure very long. While he remained with those kind gentlemen, they resolved that he should be

as their guest, and should perform none of the duties of their prison-life. His health, however, rapidly declined. His white hairs became fewer; the fire in his eye began to burn dimly, and his body to bend. Always unwell, at one time he was very ill. He attributed the beginning of his sickness to the severe cold he had caught when lying out upon the ground the several nights after his arrest. He grew weak and cold; the poor covering of a quilt and a flimsy blanket were not suffi cient to keep him warm. "He had prayers morning and evening with his room-mates. He prayed always for universal humanity, for his enemies and his friends. His conversation was mostly upon religious subjects, and thrice only he joined the little band in a war of wits." His illness increased, and at one time he thought he was dying. He said his spirit was strong enough, but his body was growing weak; yet weak as his body became, his spirit never deserted him. The ladies of Baltimore, as usual, ministered kindly unto him, and did much to assuage his sufferings. To "Father Douglas," as they called him, they brought cheerfulness and material comfort. He had nothing to offer in return but his blessings and his prayers.

Having been in confinement about six weeks, Mr. Douglas was brought before the Provost Marshal. By this gentleman he was treated with much courtesy, and he ascertained, after having undergone an examination, that there was no evidence against him, and that no written charges had ever been preferred. He had been arrested and imprisoned on suspicion, prejudice, and the vaguest rumors. Feeble and sick, but the shadow of his former self, he was released and graciously permitted to return to his home.

But imprisonment had done its fatal work. The seeds of discase had taken deep root, and they continued to grow. He resumed his parochial duties, but he appeared among his people as one stepping along the confines of the grave; and that deep-toned voice which they knew so well, and which had often thrilled them with its power, was weakened and unsteady. The succeeding years of war, bringing with them new trials and difficulties, aggravated his ailment. His sons

were wounded in battle, and false rumors of their death reached his ears time and again. On one occasion, when he went to Hagerstown to seek for news of his eldest son, whose obituary he had read in the papers, he was not permitted to alight from his buggy, his horse was seized and turned toward home, and he was ordered to leave the town. These wrongs were too much for his proud soul and his failing health, and he fast grew wan and weary. A few years had done the usual work of a score. Mr. Douglas was spared to the ministry for a few years longer, but nothing could arrest the fatal disease which had taken hold of him in Fort McHenry. He seemed to know that his end was approaching, but he continued his labors. His family entreated him to retire, and leave his unfinished work to others, but he replied that he woul die at his post. He still hesitated in strange unwillingness to cease his ministerial labors; but, on the next Sunday, started to take leave of his people. At Mount Moriah he preached a morning sermon, which his devoted parishioners still speak of as full of truth, humility, and resignation. At Keedysville, on the same day, his congregation looked with surprise on his feeble frame, and listened attentively to the words which impressed them with more than usual solemnity. The venerable man seemed to be conscious that he was speaking to them for the last time, and while they were silent, his earnestness rose for a time above his bodily weakness, and triumphed. The effort was toc great toward the end of his sermon his voice trembled and his sight grew dim, and at its close he sank exhausted into his seat. It was a solemn scene. He had spoken as Elijah might have spoken just as he was raised from earth to heaven. The people dispersed, and their aged pastor was taken to the house of a friend, where he lay for several days, attended by his wife and physicians. He was then removed to his home, where, after lingering a few days longer, he, on the 20th of August, 1867, passed to God, under whose banner he had fought for more than thirty years, and faithfully even unto the end.

A sentinel on the watch-tower of Zion, he fell at his post.

CAP

CAPTAIN H. L. SHIELDS.

APTAIN H. L. SHIELDS graduated at the United States Military Academy at West Point, in 1845, about the commencement of the Mexican War. He served through that war, was present in seven or eight battles, and was twice brevetted for gallant conduct. After the close of the war, he was attached for several years to Sherman's battery of light artillery, in the 3d Regiment. He afterward served under General Wool, as an aide-de-camp, and acting Judge Advocate of the Eastern Division of the United States Army. He resigned from the army in 1854, and in a few years thereafter took possession of, and has occupied since then, a stock raising farm, near Bennington, Vermont.

One rainy morning in October, 1861, while Captain Shields was engaged with his men in some out-of-door farm-work, a boy rode up from Bennington, (two miles distant,) and in formed him that some friends, who proposed going off in the cars in an hour, were anxious to see him before leaving. He immediately ordered his wagon, and, without waiting to change the rough dress he wore, drove rapidly to the village. On reaching the hotel he was shown into the parlor, where a man introduced himself as the United States Marshal for Vermont, at the same time informing the Captain that he had an order to arrest him, and take him to Fort Lafayette. Captain S. was greatly astonished, and inquired who issued the order. The Marshal replied, "The Secretary of State." The order was signed by the Assistant Secretary of State. After a few moments' reflection, the Captain expressed his willingness to accompany the Marshal, but requested him to go with him to his residence, that he might get some cloth iug. This he refused to do, remarking that he had no time

to lose. The Marshal escorted him to the cars, while a posse with the Sheriff of the county proceeded to his house, and demanded of his wife his letters and papers. They entertained themselves for an hour, in examining private papers and letters, hoping, no doubt, to find "treasonable correspondence," but in this they were disappointed. The Marshal in the mean time took the Captain to Fort Hamilton, where he was turned over to Colonel Martin Burke, United States Army, who had been his commander in Mexico.

Thence he was taken to Fort Lafayette, and placed in a casemate in which there were numerous heavy guns. This casemate was occupied by some twenty or thirty "prisoners of state." The greater portion of these were prominent members of the Legislature of the State of Maryland. They comprised the entire Democratic representation from that body.

Sick and well were alike crowded together in these damp, illy ventilated and unhealthy casemates. The listless ennui of prison-life, the grating and heavy iron doors, the bars and chains, the poor fare, the tyranny of the officers, the brutality of the ignorant guards, and the longing for home and friends contributed much to sow the seeds of disease in many of the prisoners. On entering the Fort, Captain S. (like all who were its inmates) was divested of his money, arms, and valuables. He was permitted to join a mess of other prisoners, who had two meals served each day, for which they paid one dollar each per diem. The prisoner who had no money fared badly. "The food," says Captain Shields, "which, if well cooked, would have been wholesome and sufficient, was wretchedly served up by the same inexperienced recruits who guarded the Fort." About the first of November an order came to remove the state prisoners to Fort Warren, in Boston Harbor. Many rejoiced at the change, as that Fort was known to be larger, the accommodations for quarters better, and because Colonel Justin Dimick, an old officer, was known to be a Christian and a gentleman, as well as a thorough soldier.

We again quote from Captain S.: "We bade adieu to Fort