enthusiastic fanatic, a dangerous element in any circle. Moody inclines more to the latter class. Such men at the head of churches, with the entre of the family circle, create much mischief, causing irreligion in the former, and contaminating the latter. Moody, from ignorance, rather than indisposition, is not as dangerous as others of his class, but would be just the man to march down the streets of Marseilles, with about an American dollar's worth of hair, (in shape,) cut from his head, surmounted by a chapeau, and chanting some unearthly strain, particularly if a verse, could be brought in, anathamatising Dixie and Secesh generally. Moody would rob a church, maltreat a captive, (which he has done time and again.) To sum up, Moody is a long-eared individual, whose name is not allowed to sully these pages, and much taste has been sacrificed in introducing Moody.

Last evening, about 9 o'clock, a member of one of the messes left his room, to go after a bucket of water. He was a German, and did not know that two and two made four in English, and, of course, was hardly responsible for any act, that did not conform with the letter of the law of our prison rules, which forbade, under the severe regime at Johnson's island: going out after retreat, (as mentioned in scrap relating to the killing of Lieutenant Gibson,) he deliberately took his bucket, walked to the well, some forty or fifty steps from the building, and commenced pumping. It certainly did not look like an attempt to escape, but afforded a splendid opportunity, to a dozen warriors on the fence, who were ambitious for distinction, and burning with a desire to murder a rebel, thus placing themselves in the line of promotion. "Halt! halt!" was heard over the campus, but our Teutonic veteran did not understand, and walked quietly back to his quarters. Bang! bang! went the missiles, fired with a will, by a dozen sentinels, but without effect, as, most fortunately for the health of our comrade, it was dark, and the aim of our custodians erring. After passing through unscathed, the shower of buck and ball, that ricochetted, (much to the annoyance of the prisoners, who were protected only by half-inch plank,) over the campus. Germany was

triumphant, drank his water, and tumbled into his bunk. In a few moments, the officer of the day came in, and was directed to the room in which the author of the alarm was quietly reposing, and on entering, inquired if any one was hurt.

"Ask the Dutchman.”

"Well, sir, are you hurt?"

"Mein Gott! no, I vants vater, and den I vants sleep, you pe tam."

It was a narrow escape, and the poor fellow, who was one of the few private soldiers, who had not been transferred to another prison, barely escaped, having his name recorded in this book, as one of the prisoners at Johnson's island, who "are so well treated.' What reason our custodians can present, to clear their skirts of this cruelty, is beyond my comprehension.

An aged mother comes one thousand miles, to see her darling boy, a mere youth, who will be exchanged in a few days, and it is, possibly, the last opportunity he may have on earth, of receiving a mother's blessing. The mother prays to the relentless fiend in charge of us, to see her son but for one moment, but it is denied. Cut-throats of

every character, and the vilest of criminals have had the boon granted them, of seeing loved ones pending trial, or prior to execution. In the Netherlands, criminals condemned to solitary confinement for life, are brought out once a year, and placed upon a platform, where relatives can see them, and they can breathe the free air of Heaven. It seems to be reserved for the United States government, through their instruments, to out-Herod Herod in acts of cruelty. The mother did not see her son, and returned home sick at heart, and disconsolate. The gallant boy loved his mother with a devotion, known only to the good and brave, but sacrificed the sweetest feeling of his heart, rather than take the "oath," and thus turn his back upon the glorious colors, he had sworn to defend. This is but another link to Pierson's endless chain of cruelties.

Fearing that the one tin pan business, to a mess of fifty men might, possibly breed contagion, which it has in some of the messes, as many of my comrades are aware, who

have the singular disease, unnecessary to mention on this page, and which, I am confident, is from the effects of proper ablutions not being indulged in, in consideration of which, our dispenser of indulgences, has concluded to allow us the bath, not a "Turkish one, with its experience of "tepidarium," "calidarium," "lavotorium," "spray douche," and "plunge," but a "Sandusky bay" one, giving each pore an opportunity of expressing its delight in a moisture of health. "Cleanliness is akin to Godliness," and there is a woful lack of the former in our prison, where "it is water, water everywhere, but not a drop to wash." But the great chief of our custodians is to let a few of us out this afternoon, provided that Colonel Battel, and a few other officers of regular habits, will guarantee that we will not attempt to swim out, and seize the little boat and twelve-pound howitzer, capture Hoffman's battallion, or do any of those desperate deeds, that have made rebels so famous. Colonel Battel has vouched for us, and six hundred of us, unarmed, are splashing, dashing, diving, and ducking, and a few disciples of old Isaac Walton, are fishing, and it is a piscatorial fact, that fish were caught by Confederates, in spite of the antics and noise incidental to the bathing of six hundred prisoners. A line of bayonets bristled at intervals on the beach, and now and then one would be lowered, and a bead drawn on some unwary prisoner, who had swam a little beyond the limits allowed. But bathing, as well as all material things, must have an end, and one by one the prisoners come out of the once limpid bay, arrange their toilet, and prepare for the inner walls.

Now the harpooning commences, the fun being strictly on the side of the guards. After all are in, as supposed, the sentinels, with their bayonets, walk leisurely along the edge of the water, and like the whaler, who longs for blubber, with harpoon in rest, launches it out at the mighty leviathan of old ocean, so do these harpooners of rebels, dash their bayonets into the weeds and brush that line the shore, certain to pin a poor fellow, should he be indiscreet enough to imagine he could escape in that

way.

"Ah, I have you, you d-d rebel," says one of the Plutonic excresences of the island, as he barely misses pinning to the bottom of the lake the form of an officer, who vainly attempted to escape in such manner, "get up and get, you are booked for the blackhole, d-m you."

I don't think any more of the officers will risk the bayonet of these military fishermen. This is the last of August; I have been out twice, but a thousand pores express their gratitude for that much indulgence. "Thou shalt be a Bishop," Pierson, aye, a Pope, Leo, if it please thee, for thy many indulgences, for the many horns thou hast stolen from us, will enable thee to issue as many bulls, as the energetic pontiff aforesaid.

In a former chapter, I reached from 1793 to 1812, in my chronicle. The want of connection, that I discovered, after reviewing it, did not dissatisfy me, because, as a prisoner of war, I have a consciousness, that could I have made the proper connections, and had my time-table been regulated, I would not have been in durance. But, as in the opening of this work, we have compiled a synopsis of the political history of the country, we deem our failure to connect, from 1812 to the present, a matter of no moment, as all deficiencies are supplied by the synopsis aforesaid.

Yet, to please my fellow prisoners, I will give a few private political histories, as lessons, for those who seek the "bubble reputation," in the whirlpool of politics. In the long line of distinguished men, who have filled the position of chief executive of the nation, General Jackson was one of the most prominent. His star appeared in 1828. He was Adamized and canonized, ran his course, yet left much for the future to war over, and work out. There is a bust of the General on Court Square, in the city of Memphis, an intense seceding corporation, with the magical letters: "The Federal Union must and shall be preserved." This bust was there, March the 1st, 1862, nine months from the vote, unanimously, save five, of the city for secession, as unterrified, and seeming as ready to swear, "By the Eternal, Tennessee shall not secede." Jackson's spirit still lives in his bust, proving the influence

of his mind, over matter, as explained in the theory of forces.

The animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms, are the elements, that all our physical draughts are made upon, and into which we resolve, after we have "shuffled off this mortal coil." Man, in the flesh, is the acme of these three powerful forces. Having attempted to show, that the mind's forces have a chain of sympathy, uniting them, I will now ask, if there are not sympathetic influences, controlling the material universe? What is the impulse, that gives a being an irresistible desire to plunge over some precipice, that curiosity has invited him to its brink, and makes him shudder, while contemplating the dizzy depth, that seem to attract him, to take the fearful leap? This is the power of one force, too gigantic for the weakness of its miniature counterpart, in its fleshly tabernacle. Look at some mighty leviathan, of the deep, or some huge monster, upon the land, and you are startled, by an animal strength, that shows you so plainly your own pigmyism. Go into the regal woods, aud hear the tempest howl, through the branches of the majestic oak, gaze out, upon the mighty ocean, wonder at the grandeur of all you see, and feel your utter insignificance.

It is rarely, that an excursion of pleasure, in which many healthy bodies partake, either by railroad or steamer, developing the hydrogen in man, expressed in an exuberance of feeling, but what some accident, too frequently happens. A public edifice is erected, some one is killed, or injured, during process of its erection. He, who habitually carries a pistol, is so influenced by its force, that he will draw it involuntarily. He, who constantly carries a knife, will, instinctively, clutch it in the same manner. Men, from infancy, prefer masculine toys, in opposition to the tamer selections of women, because they are more akin to their stronger natures. Men love the battle-field, the roar of artillery, the rattle of musketry, and the clash of swords, they are controlled by such forces, and yield to their irresistible influence, thus man meets his brother in mortal combat, and, it may be, that the force of "Old Hickory" has influenced his bust, that now stands frown