ings. I knew by the stars that it must be about two o'clock, (I knew what time certain stars used to rise) when I heard something like this. You can't tell what it was, coming up out of the gloom. The tree that I was in stood in a kind of ravine, down which in the spring a stream must run. The cry was, mind you, not loud, nor sharp, nor long, nor deep, but a nerve cry, wrung right out of the chords of life. You could hear the fiber untwist and break, in the cry, 'Oh, water! water! oh for one drop of water! water! give me a little, just a little. Mother, bring me some water.' There was stillness then; the man seemed to be lying just under the tree where I was; suddenly it came again in the words, 'I'm dying, I'm 'most dead,' and then a wail such as condensed all the prayers I have ever heard in my life into one: 'O God! please give me water.'

"Off on the fields the men of both armies were overlooking their dead, binding up their wounds, putting to parched lips the cooling tin of the canteen, more delicious than the silver of the cups of childhood; and this poor fellow no one came to find. I forgot in that minute, Mr. Chester, the country and myself; I went down the tree, and crawled on my hands and knees in the darkness to find the man from whom the call had come. Won't you send that child away a minute," Isaac asked; "I don't want her to hear." At the words, Ailee, whom every one had forgotten in their interest, sobbed out so violently that it was some time before she was soothed and sent away, and Isaac resumed his story.

"There was not a ray of light in the ravine, and I dared not call. You see, the guard was not far away, so I crawled on and on, through the dead leaves of many years, until my hands lost a good part of their skin on the branches and briers. By-and-by I thought I heard breathing; I waited, and was certain of it-I crawled nearer, put out my hand, thinking to touch the man; it makes me shudder now; it went down into a pool of blood; it spattered up on my face, touched my lips, until I came near doing

that which the poor fellow was doing. God had, in a measure, heard his prayer; he was drinking his own blood. I forced away the arm to which his lips were clinging, and put my canteen in its place. I had taken care to fill it before leaving the field. The murmur of deep content, as he felt the water cooling down his throat, was the very extract of gratitude; I know it is just such sounds that go up the highest.

"Once or twice I took, or attempted to take, the canteen away; but he clung to it so, I had no heart to do it. The poor fellow might never drink again. I sat down close to where he lay and tried to whisper a few words into his ears, to tell him that a friend was near. I asked him if he had any message to send to any one, and all the answer he gave was- Tell them you brought me water.'

"I could know nothing of the nature of his hurts. He lay quite motionless; I reckoned he slept until the day began to break. The sounds from the camps stirred the air; I fixed my eyes on the figure I knew must be lying close by me, and every moment could discern a bit more and more through the gloom, until I saw a soldier wearing the Confederate uniform; then a bucketful more light was poured into the day, and I saw that this man, this Confederate soldier, was my Double. I knew his name, I knew that I had lived for a time in the same city with him, I knew that I might pass almost anywhere for him. Here he was, dying in the ravine that lay, as I climbed the tree to look, scarcely half a mile from the battle-field of the day before.

"When I went back to see if I could help the man, his eyes were open, his mouth was fixed in that last, unalterable expression of death. Life was over with him. I had no time to think; the war-calls were sounding faster, clearer, all about. I went down deep into the ravine and looked about. There was an old log that had been soaked into the ground by rains and dampness until it was more than half buried. I tugged away until I got it out of the bed. The place underneath it then was dry as

summer's dust, and just about long enough for a grave. It was heavy work carrying that dead man down to the place, but I was urged on by the impulse to save my own life. I parted the tangled vines and drew the body into the shelter. Mr. Chester, it was a solemn sort of a room to dress in, hung all around with leafy curtains, through which the clang of arms came.

"I took off the uniform of my Double, put that of the chaplain upon him, and put myself into the blood-stained clothes he had worn; then buried him in the bed where the log had lain.

"There were some papers in his pockets, a picture of a face he had loved, I hoped, and one of the papers, as I sat down, my work done, to look them over, made my heart leap with joy. It was his appointment to an office in connection with the very prison to which I ached to get. That was my place now. The chaplain, I had buried up under the mosses, and branches, and leaves, knowing full well, as I did so, that had he not been buried, he could never get safely out of the Confederate lines; for, even then, he must be known in all the camp as a spy. The Union army won that battle-field, through the services of a chaplain in Confederate gray.

"I went up from the ravine a man named John Paul. There was a small diary in John Paul's pocket, which promised to be of especial use, for it contained many statements of facts existent in his life, that it was essential the new man should know. It was the duty of this John Paul to take control of and conduct prisoners taken on the day before, to the prison. He reported before the battle was well in progress on the second day, and did his duty with all honesty of purpose; the United States and the chaplain were taken off his mind and shoulders, so that he moved on easier; beside, the weight on his heart was somehow growing lighter as he thought he was getting nearer to it: weights are so heavy when we have to carry them at arms' length.

"I had to look more than once at the little diary in my pocket as we went

slowly onward; 800 and more of my own countrymen bound to all the horrors of a prison life. Finally, I got lost and bewildered; so I feigned illness, and appointed some one else to take the advance. The second day we reached the place of horrors. Do you know that no man ever longed to see the little roof that bent above his home more than I did to see the ugly inclosure, inside of which something told me I should find Mr. Chester.

"When we reached the prison great handbills were there, printed in letters one couldn't fail to read, offering $5,000 Confederate money for one Isaac Griffin, late a chaplain in

- regiment, and behold,

my own face, on the bill, that all men finding might know me, was over the prison bars. The illness which I had feigned on the march did me excellent service that night. I lay wide awake, listening to every word, watching every movement, until before midnight I had caught the names of the officers in that ward, and knew pretty much all their duties. When the lights were turned down, (the officers had gone off to bed exulting over the pile of prisoners that had been brought in) I managed to read the diary, and to put its contents into my mind as thoroughly as I once had the sermon. I knew just how long John Paul had been in the service, what prisons he had been in, who their commandants were, and at last, when at daybreak I fell asleep, it was to wake up thoroughly imbued with the spirit of the man I had buried in the ravine but fortyeight hours before.

"I arose and went about my duties, putting on a weary, listless air that I was far from feeling; but you see I had to feign utter indifference to cruelties that tore into my very heart. Two or three times I arrested a scream of horror, as some face, that I had known in the happy days of peace, looked out at me under the form of a prisoner, too wretched to know himself if a looking-glass had been set before him.

"It was one of John Paul's duties to call the prison-roll. He had been busy many hours in making out the roll of the new

prisoners, and was still at it when reminded of the time.

was still as death after the call. Again it was read. 'Ill in cot No. 5, seventh

"As usual, sir, all that can be made to get up; more than half of 'em are mere shams.'

"Very well, go on, I want you,' I said, not even knowing the direction I ought to take. I followed on. The prisoners were gathered in a kind of square yard; there was just standing room, arranged so that as the men stood they were tier above tier, that, as each one made answer to the call, his head could be seen. The ground had been terraced to suit the purpose.

"If I could get out of my mind the picture of all those wretched men as they stood before me that day, I should be glad. It was a picture-gallery such as the world never looked into. I sometimes think I shall be forced to paint it, to get it out of my head.

"The long roll-call was set before me. Now John Paul had been used to run those names over as glibly as a schoolboy the multiplication table. What made him stumble so, and give such odd accents to some of the names? It was thought it was the headache under which he had been suffering all day. The names were old names, some of them the very earliest that I had heard, good old New York and New England names: why, I knew just where their fathers' houses were standing then, and my eyes blinded so with tears that I gave the roll over to another, and sat with my face crowded into my hands, waiting for the names. There was a long list of C's that I had taken note of.

"It came at last, the name that set every pulse in me leaping: 'David Chester.' The man read it out loud and clear. It

on, but I scarcely gave heed to a name.

"It was John Paul's duty to walk through the prison at certain hours of the night—at nine o'clock that night he went. 'He is growing humane, getting a bit human,' a voice whispered as I stopped by each cot, making some simple inquiry into the case, preparatory to a longer pause in ward seven.

"It was a low, dismal place. The cots were not spread with snowy linen; they were not spread at all. On the sacking the men lay, looking only less dismal than the terrace of heads I had seen at rollcall.

"No. Five, that must be near the door, I thought, but no! It was in the farthest, most dismal corner of the most dismal place. John Paul tottered up to the cot, half holding fast to the side of it. There was no gentle nurse near-not one in the whole prison.

David Chester, are you able to be moved?' John Paul asked. 'Some of the prisoners are to go further on, to make room for the new ones.'

"You can judge,' was the reply, and he showed me cause why he could not 'move on.' I took the roll out of my pocket and made a mark, indicating that that prisoner was to stay. He asked to look at it. I gave him the roll. He looked up in my face and pointed to the writing. I looked at him? no! John Paul looked across the ward instead, and shouted out an order, that left echoes ringing all about the place, while, with his lips, he formed the words, 'I am Isaac—I'll save you.'

"We came home; how, Mr. Chester can tell better than I."

(To be continued.)

power of his voice, all indicated that it would have been no difficult thing for him, had circumstances rendered it necessary, to resume his place upon the war-horse, and again lead forth his troops to the deadly combat. His lectures I had heard represented as intensely interesting. Such I can well conceive that they were, for, besides possessing a memory of remarkable tenacity, and an unsually ready utterance, he had means, such as perhaps no other living man, certainly none in this country possessed, of knowing the men and things whereof he spoke. His acquaintance with Bonaparte commenced on his first entering the army, when he found himself a private soldier under that distinguished man as his captain. For twenty-three years he served with him in stations of trust, which rendered the most intimate relations necessary, and it was only when Napoleon was confined on the Island of Elba that Colonel Lehmanousky retired from the service.

I have touched on the life of this remarkable man for the purpose of introducing to the reader a narrative, which he was kind enough to furnish me, of the destruction of the Spanish Inquisition, near Madrid, in which transaction he was the chief agent.

"In the year 1809," said Colonel Lehmanousky, "being then at Madrid, my attention was directed to the Inquisition, in the neighborhood of that city. Napoleon had previously issued a decree for the suppression of this institution, whenever his victorious troops should extend their arms to its vicinity. I reminded Marshal Soult, then governor of Madrid, of this decree, and he directed me to proceed to destroy it. I informed him that my regiment, the 9th Polish Lancers, was insufficient for such a service, but that if he would give me two additional regiments, I would undertake the work. He accordingly gave me the two required regiments, one of which, the 117th, was under the command of Colonel De Lile, who is now, like myself, a minister of the gospel. He is pastor of one of the Evangelical churches in Marseilles, France.

"With these troops I proceeded forthwith to the Inquisition, which was situated about five miles from the city. It was surrounded by a wall of great strength, and defended by about 400 soldiers. When we arrived at the walls, I addressed one of the sentinels, and summoned the inquisitors to surrender to the imperial army, and open the gates of the Inquisition.

"The sentinel, who was standing on the wall, appeared to enter into conversation, for a few moments, with some one within, at the close of which he presented his musket and shot one of my men. This was the signal for attack, and I ordered my troops to fire upon those who appeared upon the walls.

"It was soon obvious that it was an unequal warfare. The walls were covered with the soldiers of the holy office. There was also a breastwork upon the wall, behind which they kept, except as they partially exposed themselves in order to discharge their muskets. Our troops were in the open plain, and exposed to a destructive fire. We had no cannon, nor could we scale the walls, and the gates successfully resisted all attempts at forcing them. I saw that it was necessary to change the mode of attack, and directed some trees to be cut down and trimmed and brought on the ground, to be used as battering-rams. Two of these were taken up by detachments of men, as numerous as could work to advantage, and brought to bear upon the walls with all the power which they could exert, regardless of the deadly fire which was poured upon them. Presently the walls began to tremble, and finally a breach was made, and the Imperial troops rushed into the Inquisition. Here we met with an incident full of rarest effrontery. The Inquisitor-General, followed by the confessors, all came out of their rooms, as we were making our way to the interior of the Inquisition, and with long faces and their arms crossed over their breasts, and their fingers resting on their shoulders, as though they had been deaf to all the noise of the attack and defense, and had but just learned