Marshal. One was loaded with a blank again. The troops were witnessing the cartridge, according to the usual custom, whole of these proceedings with the intensso that neither of the men could positively est interest. Then the Marshal and the state that the shot from his rifle killed the chaplains began to prepare the culprit for unfortunate man. The coffin, which was his death. He was too weak to stand. of pine wood stained, and without any in- He sat down on the foot of the coffin. scription, came next, in a one-horse wagon. Captain Boyd then bandaged his eyes with Immediately behind followed the doomed a white handkerchief. A few minutes of man, in an open wagon. About five feet painful suspense intervened while the six inches in height, with light hair and Catholic clergymen were having their final whiskers, his eyebrows joining each other, interview with the unfortunate man. All Johnson indeed presented a most forlorn being ready, the Marshal waved his handappearance. He was dressed in cavalry kerchief as the signal, and the firing party uniform, with the regulation overcoat and discharged the volley. Johnson did not black gloves. He was supported by move, remaining in a sitting posture for Father McAtee, who was in constant con- several seconds after the rifles were disversation with him, while Father Willett charged. Then he quivered a little, and rode behind on horseback. The rear was brought up by Company C, of the Lincoln Cavalry, forming the escort.

fell over beside his coffin. He was still alive, however, and the four reserves were called to complete the work. It was Arriving on the ground at half-past three found that two of the firing party, Gero'clock, the musicians and the escort took a mans, had not discharged their pieces, and position a little to the left, while the crim- they were immediately put in irons. inal descended from the wagon. The coffin Johnson was shot several times in the was placed on the ground, and he took his heart by the first volley. Each of the position beside it. The firing party was four shots fired by the reserves took effect marched up to within six paces of the in his head, and he died instantly. One prisoner, who stood between the clergy-penetrated his chin, another his left cheek, men. The final order of execution was while two entered the brain just above then read to the condemned. the left eyebrow.

While the order was being read, Johnson stood with his hat on, his head a little inclined to the left, and his eyes fixed in a steady gaze on the ground. Near the close of the reading, one of his spiritual attendants whispered something in his ear. Johnson had expressed a desire to say a few final words before he should leave this world to appear before his Maker. He was conducted close to the firing party, and in an almost inaudible voice, spoke as follows:

"Boys, I ask forgiveness from Almighty God and from my fellow-men for what I have done. I did not know what I was doing. May God forgive me, and may the Almighty keep all of you from all such sin."

The troops then all marched round, and each man looked on the bloody corpse of his misguided comrade.

Maternal Love and Patriotic Duty. An old lady residing in Johnstown, Cambria county, Penn., had an only son, a strapping minor, to whom she was most warmly attached. This lad, however, having some of the war fever in him, was induced to join a corps from the mountains, and, hoping to deceive the old lady, he invented a very plausible tale, and came away. The love of the mother was, however, too great to be deceived, and after a week had elapsed, the true story was revealed to her. She started upon the railroad with a bundle and a small sum

He was then placed beside the coffin of money, and walked to Harrisburg alone,

-a distance of more than one hundred looked unutterable griefs, and clung all and fifty miles. At Harrisburg she took the closer to her babe. The money was the train, and her money carried her to all right; he held it in his hand-more Downington, where she again resumed her than he had owned at once, perhaps, durtramp, and turned up, much to the lad's ing all his lifetime. Said heastonishment, at Camp Coleman, near Frankford. There the old lady, utterly wearied out, fell sick, and the men, hearing of the case, made up a collection, and provided her a bed and attendance in the neighborhood. But her strength revived with her anxiety, and she proceeded to the railroad with her boy, and kissed him a good-bye at the cars, with the tears falling free and warm upon her cheeks.

"God bless you, wife and children; we must now part, perhaps forever. This money, wife, is yours-but let me give some to each; it will gratify me, and will go to you whenever you are in want of it. Here, wife, is one hundred dollars for you; may heaven bless it and you! Here, Billy, is one hundred dollars for you; be good and true to your mother, and, as you are the oldest, watch faithfully over your brothers and sisters. James, here is one Distribution of his Bounty. hundred dollars for you; give it to your The better part of man's nature as well mother whenever she wants it. Mary, as its worst features, could be seen very take this one hundred dollars, be a good palpably in the volunteering room, as the girl, and in your prayers remember following among many kindred instances your father. Come here, my pet Alice, will show. A whole family, mother and here is one hundred dollars for you to keep five children, led by their stalwart head, until good mamma requires it. And now, the husband and father, presented them- my little toad without a name—yes, let us selves one day to Supervisor Blunt, in call him Hope; do you say so, wife?" It New York city, for the six hundred dol- was assented to. "Then here, you little lars bounty, he, the husband, having just crowing cock,-bless the little fellow! I been examined and mustered in as a recruit. may never see him again. Kiss me, boy. It was a large family and a sorrowful Here, put this hundred dollars in your one-all except the little tow-headed fel- little hand, and don't eat it, but pass it low in its mother's arms, who was leaping over to your mother as soon as possible.” and crowing as though he really thought The noble-hearted fellow's heavy frame it was excellent fun, a capital joke. The seemed to quiver all over as he finished family appeared like a respectable one, his distribution and knew that his time had though the hand of poverty evidently come. He embraced each and all separested heavily upon it, and this, most likely, rately, and declared himself ready to go. was the last resort, the last hope, the throwing of one overboard to save the rest. As Mr. Blunt counted the money-one, two, three, four, five, six hundred dollars, and presented it, a kind of sickly, faint smile was visible through the unbidden tears which were coursing down the volunteer's cheeks; for his time, he knew, with his family-its joys and hopes-was "Bless me, is it so? Wife, put that now about up. His children were cling- one hundred dollars into the savings bank ing to his legs, begging him not to for Hope, and never touch it if you can leave them; his wife, too full to speak, help it—if you can help it, mind--until

"But," says Mr. Blunt, "there is another hundred dollars coming to you—the hand money. Who brought you here!"

"That wee bit of a babe, your honor; I'd never come in the world had it not been for that dear babe."

"Well, then, the hand money or prernium belongs to him!"

he comes of age.
God bless the little fel-
low! He starts well in the world, after
all, and may yet be President.

The man stepped upon the platform of the turnstile, and was whirled in out of sight of the world and all he loved.

Tenderness of the President toward the

Lowly.

A woman in a faded shawl and hood, somewhat advanced in life, was admitted one day, in her turn, to see President Lincoln, in his office.

much affected by her appearance and story, and said,

"I know what you wish me to do now, and I shall do it without your asking; I shall release to you your second son."

Upon this he took up his pen and commenced, writing the order. While he was writing the poor woman stood by his side, the tears running down her face, and passed her hand softly over his head, stroking tenderly his rough hair as a fond mother will do to a son. By the Her husband and three sons, all she had time he had finished writing, his own heart in the world, had enlisted in the war. and eyes were full. He handed her the But her husband having lost his life in. the paper, saying, "Now you have one and I service, she had come to ask the President one of the other two left; that is no more to release to her the oldest son. Being than right." She took the paper, and satisfied of the truthfulness of her story, reverently placing her hand again upon he said, "Certainly, if her prop was taken his head, the tears still upon her cheeks, away she was justly entitled to one of her boys." He immediately wrote an order for the discharge of the young man. The poor woman thanked him very gratefully, and went away. On reaching the army she found that this son had been in a recent engagement, was wounded and taken to a hospital. She found the hospital, but

said,

"The Lord bless you, Mr. President. May you live a thousand years, and may you always be the head of this great na

tion."

It was the Baby that did It.

A touching incident of President Lincoln's kindness of heart is the following, as told by one of the servants attached to the presidential mansion. A poor woman from Philadelphia had been waiting, with a baby in her arms, for three days, to see the President. Her husband had furnished a substitute for the army, but some time afterward was one day made intoxicated by some companions, and in this state induced to enlist. Soon after he reached the army he deserted, thinking that as he had provided a substitute, the Government was not entitled to his services. Returning home, he was, of course, arrested, tried, convicted, and sentenced to be shot. The sentence was to be executed on a the boy was dead, or died while she was Saturday. On Monday, preceding, his there. The surgeon in charge made a wife left her home with her baby to enmemorandum of the facts upon the back deavor to see the President. Said old of the President's order, and, almost bro- Daniel: "She had been waiting here three ken-hearted, the poor woman found her days, and there was no chance for her to way again into his presence. He was get in. Late in the afternoon of the third

manner in which a substitute broker could be victimized-done for!--by his intended victim. It seems that broker became ac

day the President was going through the back passage to his private rooms, to get a cup of tea or take some rest. On his way through this passage-way, (which quainted with a countryman who had some shuts the person passing entirely out of view of the occupants of the ante-room,) he heard the little baby cry. He instantly went back to the office and rang the bell. 'Daniel,' said he, 'is there a woman with a baby in the ante-room?' I said there was, and, if he would allow me to say it, I thought it a case he ought to see; for it was a matter of life and death. Said he, 'Send her to me at once.' She went in, told her story, and the President pardoned her husband. As the woman came out from his presence, her eyes were lifted and her lips moving in prayer, the tears streaming down her cheeks." Daniel added: "I went up to her and pulling her shawl said, 'Madam, it was the baby that did it!""

Sold by his intended Victim.

The employes and habitues of the Provost-Marshal's office in the city of Troy, New York, were one day considerably amused by a little episode, showing the

notion about enlistment. "Oh, you're my man-I can pocket two or three hundred dollars on you," muttered the joyous broker, at the same time inviting Greeny to "take a walk and see the town." Greeny accepted, and off the two started. They not long after imbibed freely-in fact, very freely. Broker was anxious to have Greeny drink often, while his plan was to keep sober. Broker had plenty of money, and would not permit "his friend from the country" to spend a single dime. Finally, Broker-contrary altogether to his original plan-became weak in the knees, while Greeny was growing sober. Result: Greeny marched Mr. Broker to the Marshal's office, had him examined, was accepted and sworn in as a substitute. Greeny pocketed the profits, and started for the country. Mr. Broker became a sojourner on Hart's Island, in company with several of his victims. Verdictserved him right.