others are perishing. Our noble rivers are enlivened with commerce; and the tide of emigration flows in upon us with a force and steadiness which should announce to the old states that the power of this continent is gravitating to the borders of the Mississippi. Look back to what we were thirty years ago; see what we are to-day; tell what we must be in 1830. From that day the West will give the law to the Republic; and those who have views beyond that period should plant themselves betimes on the waters of the West. But I did not begin this letter to make a political essay, but to renew to you and Mrs. Preston the assurance of my never dying friendship.

JEFFERSON DAVIS TO PRESIDENT FRANKLIN PIERCE

[From The Davis Memorial Volume,' by J. William Jones. Copyright, 1890, B. F. Johnson Publishing Company, Richmond, Va. Used here by permission.]

WASHINGTON, D.C., January 20, 1861.

MY DEAR FRIEND: I have often and sadly turned my thoughts to you during the troublous times through which we have been passing, and now I come to the hard task of announcing to you that the hour is at hand which closes my connection with the United States, for the independence and union of which my father toiled and in the service of which I sought to emulate the example he set for my guidance. Mississippi, not as a matter of choice, but of necessity, has resolved to enter on the field of secession. Those who have driven her to this alternative threaten to deprive her of the right to require that her government shall rest on the consent of the governed, to substitute foreign force for domestic support, to reduce a State to the condition from which the colony rose. In the attempt to avoid the issue which had been joined by the country, the present administration has complicated and precipitated the question. Even now, if the duty to "preserve the public property" was rationally regarded, the probable collision at Charleston would be avoided. Security far better than any which the Federal troops can give might be obtained in consideration of the little garrison of Fort Sumter. If the disavowal of any purpose to coerce South Carolina be sincere, the possession of a work to command the harbor is worse than useless.

When Lincoln comes in he will have but to continue in the path of his predecessor to inaugurate a civil war, and leave a soi-disant Democratic administration responsible for the fact. General Cushing was here last week, and when he parted it seemed like taking a last leave of a brother.

I leave immediately for Mississippi, and know not what may devolve upon me after my return. Civil war has only horror for me, but whatever circumstances may demand shall be met as a duty, and I trust be so discharged that you will not be ashamed of our former connection or cease to be my friend.

Mrs. Davis joins me in kind remembrance to Mrs. Pierce, and the expression of the hope that we may yet have you both at our country home. Do me the favor to write to me often. Address Hurricane P. O., Warren County, Miss.

May God bless you, is ever the prayer of your friend,

JEFF'N DAVIS.

LAFCADIO HEARN TO ELIZABETH BISLAND

[From 'Life and Letters of Lafcadio Hearn,' by Elizabeth Bisland. Copyright, 1906, Houghton, Mifflin and Company. Used here by permission.]

FORT DE FRANCE, Martinique, July, 1887.

DEAR MISS BISLAND,-Imagine yourself turned into marble, all white,-robed after the fashion of the Directory,standing forever on a marble pedestal, under an enormous azure day, encircled by a ring of tall palms, graceful as Creole women,—and gazing always, always, over the summer sea, toward emerald Trois Islets.

That is Josephine! I think she looks just like you, "Mamzelle Josephine," or Zefine, if you like.

I want to tell you a little story about her,-just a little anecdote somebody told me on the street, which I want to develop into a sketch next week.

It was after the fall of the Second Empire,-after France felt the iron heel of Germany upon her throat.

Far off in this delicious little Martinique, the Republican rage made itself felt;-the huge reaction passed over the ocean like a magnetic current. So it happened, in a little while, that the Martinique politicians resolved to do that which had al

ready been done in France,-to obliterate the memories of the Empire.

There was Mamzelle Zefine, par exemple!

They

put a rope round her beautiful white neck. They prepared to destroy the statue. Then somebody rang the Churchbell-(you ought to see the sleepy little church: it makes you want to doze the moment you pass into its cool shadow). A vast crowd gathered in the Savane.

It was a crowd of women,-mostly women who had been slaves,-quadroons, mulattoesses; the house-servants, the bonnes, the nurses and housekeepers of the old days. (You could form no possible idea of this coloured Creole element without seeing it: it does not exist in New Orleans.) They gathered to defend Mamzelle Zefine.

When the Republican officials came with their workmen at sunrise, Mamzelle Zefine was still gazing toward Trois Islets; she was white as ever; her pure cold passionate face just as lovely: she seemed totally indifferent to what was about to happen,—she was dreaming her eternal plaintive dream.

But she could well afford to feel indifferent! About her, under the circle of the palms, surged a living sea,—a tide of angry faces, above which flashed the lightning of cane-knives, axes, couteaux de boucher. “Ah! li vieu! lâches! cafa'ds! pott'ons! Vos pas cabab toucher li! Touche li-yon tete fois! Osé toucher li! Capons Républicains! Osé toucher li!"

Mamzelle Zefine still gazed plaintively toward Trois Islets. She must have seemed to that yellow population to live;-for each one she represented some young mistress, some petted child, some memory of the old colonial days. And all the love of the slave for the master-all the strange passionate senseless affection of the servant for the Creole family-was stirred to storm by the mere idea of the proposed desecration. The man who should have dared to lay an evil finger upon Josephine that day would have been torn limb from limb in the public square. The officials were frightened and foiled: they pledged their faith that the statue should not be touched.

So they took the ropes away; and they piled flowers at Mamzelle Zefine's white feet; they garlanded her; they twined the crimson jessamines of the tropics about her beautiful white throat. And she is still here,-always in the circle of the palms,

always looking to Trois Islets, always beautiful and sweet as a young Creole maiden,-dreamy, gracious, loving,—with a smile that is like some faint, sweet memory of other days.

Always,

LAFCADIO HEARN.

STONEWALL JACKSON TO MRS. JACKSON

MANASSAS, July 22d. [1861].

MY PRECIOUS PET,-Yesterday we fought a great battle and gained a great victory, for which all the glory is due to God alone. Although under a heavy fire for several continuous hours, I received only one wound, the breaking of the longest finger of my left hand; but the doctor says the finger can be saved. It was broken about midway between the hand and knuckle, the ball passing on the side next the forefinger. Had it struck the centre, I should have lost the finger. My horse was wounded, but not killed. Your coat got an ugly wound near the hip, but my servant, who is very handy, has so far repaired it that it doesn't show very much. My preservation was entirely due, as was the glorious victory, to our God, to whom be all the honor, praise, and glory. The battle was the hardest that I have ever been in, but not near so hot in its fire. I commanded the centre more particularly, though one of my regiments extended to the right for some distance. There were other commanders on my right and left. Whilst great credit is due to other parts of our gallant army, God made my brigade more instrumental than any other in repulsing the main attack. This is for your information only-say nothing about it. Let others speak praise, not myself.

STONEWALL JACKSON TO REV. WILLIAM S. WHITE

[A day or two after the battle of Manassas, and before the news of the victory had reached Lexington in authentic form, the postoffice was thronged with people, awaiting with intense interest the opening of the mail. Soon a letter was handed to the Rev. Dr. White, who immediately recognized the well-known superscription of his deacon soldier, and exclaimed to the eager and expectant group around him: “Now we shall know all the facts." Upon opening it the bulletin read thus.]

MY DEAR PASTOR: In my tent last night, after a fatiguing day's service, I remembered that I had failed to send you my

contribution for our colored Sunday-school. Enclosed you will find my check for that object, which please acknowledge at your earliest convenience, and oblige yours faithfully, T. J. JACKSON.

THOMAS JEFFERSON TO ROGER C. WEIGHTMAN [This letter to the mayor of Washington City was the last that Jefferson wrote.]

MONTICELLO, June 24, 1826.

RESPECTED SIR: The kind invitation received from you, on the part of the citizens of the city of Washington, to be present with them at their celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of American Independence, as one of the surviving signers of an instrument pregnant with our own, and the fate of the world, is most flattering to myself, and heightened by the honorable accompaniment proposed for the comfort of such a journey. It adds sensibly to the sufferings of sickness, to be deprived by it of a personal participation in the rejoicing of that day. But acquiescence is a duty, under circumstances not placed among those we are permitted to control. I should, indeed, with peculiar delight, have met and exchanged there congratulations personally with the small band, the remnant of that host of worthies, who joined with us on that day, in the bold and doubtful election we were to make for our country, between submission or the sword; and to have enjoyed with them the consolatory fact, that our fellow-citizens, after half a century of experience and prosperity, continue to approve the choice we made. May it be to the world, what I believe it will be (to some parts sooner, to others, later, but finally to all), the signal of arousing men to burst the chains under which monkish ignorance and superstition had persuaded them to bind themselves, and to assume the blessings and security of selfgovernment. That form which we have substituted, restores the free right to the unbounded exercise of reason and freedom of opinion. All eyes are opened, or opening, to the rights of man. The general spread of the light of science has already laid open to every view the palpable truth, that the mass of mankind has not been born with saddles on their backs, nor a favored few hooted and spurred, ready to ride them legiti