confinement during the months of December and January, hope every day growing more and more faint. They had no fire, very scanty food, and scarcely any clothing. It seemed to be the endeavor of the barbarian rebels to kill them by the lingering tortures of starvation and freezing. In view of the sufferings inflicted upon them one of their jailers was overheard to say, influenced by a spark of humanity which still re had not been executed. And soon they re- "Don't take one of the villains alive. Shoot them down, and let them lie in the woods for the birds and hogs to eat." Eight of the heroes escaped. J. A. Wilson and Mark Wood, both from Ohio, after adventures as marvelous as were ever detailed in the dreams of romance, pushing south directly through the densest throngs of rebeldom, at last reached the Gulf of Mexico, where they succeeded in getting beneath the protection of the Stars and Stripes, on a United States gun-boat. J. R. Porter and John Wollam, also from Ohio, ran in a westerly direction. Traveling by night and hiding by day, after a month of hunger, toil, and peril which no pen can describe, they reached Corinth, where the national banner received them under its protecting folds. M. J. Hawkins and D. A. Dorsey, both also from Ohio, after wandering through the woods for three weeks, traveling only by starlight, living upon roots and raw sweet-potatoes, finally aided by Union men, whom they found scattered through the mountains, reached Somerset, Kentucky, from which place they were transported to their regiments, where they were received as from the dead. Two, W. W. Brown and William Knight, also from Ohio, were never afterward heard from. They probably perished of hunger and exposure in the woods. All the rest, six in number, were recaptured. "If you want to kill the men, and I know the rascals deserve it, do it at once. But don't keep them there to die by inches, for it will disgrace us all over the world." In March it was announced that arrangements had been made for a general exchange. The joy this excited no tongue can tell. On the 17th of March an officer entered the prison in the evening, and stated that our captives, with several others, were to leave the next morning in a flag-of-truce boat, to be conveyed to the American lines. "The evening," writes Mr. Pittenger, "was one of wild excitement. Nearly all acted like men bereft of reason. Their joyousness found vent in vociferous cheers, in dancing and bounding over the floor, in embracing each other and pledging kind remembrances." Early the next morning they took the cars, and at City Point were received into a flag-oftruce boat-the State of Maine-over which the Star-Spangled Banner was gloriously floating. Down the James and up the Potomac they went, their hearts throbbing with joyous excitement. Here they met with that honorable reception which they so richly merited. Each one received a beautiful medal in commemoration of his heroic though unfortunate adventure. All their arrearages were paid, the money taken from them and other property of which they had been robbed were refunded, and a purse of a hundred dollars placed in each one's hand. They then received a furlough to visit their friends. Before they left Washington they were received by the President, who greeted them with his Sev-characteristic fatherly affection. The names of these young men should be handed down to posterity with honor. We give them as we find them recorded in the very in It was now October. As the jail was not deemed a safe place for their confinement they were removed to the city barracks, where their situation was much less uncomfortable. eral Union Tennesseeans were imprisoned with them. Weeks of the dreary monotony of prison-life rolled on. One day, when in the lowest depths of despondency, they were roused to al-teresting personal narrative of William Pittenmost a frenzy of joy by the tidings that they were exchanged, and were immediately to be sent to the Union lines. On the 3d day of December, a bitter cold, wintry day, our captives, in only summer clothing, and those ragged and threadbare, were placed in a box-car, and, almost perishing with cold, were borne over the frozen roads toward Virginia. After a long ride, in which they suffered excessively from hunger as well as cold, they reached Richmond. It was the 7th of December, 1862. To their infinite disappointment they found that they had been deceived. Instead of being exchanged they were placed in Castle Thunder, the Bastile of the South. Here they remained in bitter ger. Eight of them were executed. Their names were J. J. Andrews, Kentucky, and William Campbell, George D. Wilson, Marioǹ A. Ross, Perry G. Shadrack, Samuel Slavens, Samuel Robinson, and John Scott, all from Ohio. The following, eight in number, who were also from Ohio, escaped in October, though the first two mentioned probably perished in the woods, as they were never heard from. They were W. W. Brown, William Knight, J. B. Porter, Mark Wood, J. A. Wilson, M. J. Hawkins, John Wollam, and D. A. Dorsey. The following six were finally exchanged: Jacob Parrott, Robert Buffum, William Bensinger, William Reddick, E. H. Mason, and William Pittenger. THE INTRODUCTIONS. you envy the position, social and physical, of St. Simon Stylites as one precluding introducHERE is one subject concerning which the tions except through a speaking-trumpet. If American people labor under a most griev- you be of a nervous temperament, you are forced ous error. I allude to their general and indis- to shun public promenades and other "busy criminate passion for introductions. Not intro- haunts of men" by the momentary fear that ductions to books, which are very good things in some "yesterdated" acquaintance may grapple their way, provided they be not too long; but in- with you, and parade his arm-in-arm vulgarity troductions to persons-forcible abductions, so to in odious companionship for dreary hours; or speak, of a human being out from the jurisdic--horrible idea!-even thrust upon you still tion of his or her rational inclinations without others of his cognizance and kidney. the preliminary form of an extradition treaty. If there be one inherent right of man which should be respected under any and every form of government-imperial, constitutional monarchic, patriarchal, or elective-it is the undoubted prerogative of each individual to have a voice in the selection of his acquaintances. An old Spanish proverb says, "Tell me who your associates are, and I will tell you what you are;" and yet, in the face of the universal credence attached to this saying, a man's character and reputation are, in our great republic, entirely at the mercy of every ruthless monomaniac of whom he may have the slightest possible knowledge. This is the most appalling phase of the epidemic in question; but there are other forms of the disease less grave as to their effects upon the reputation of the sufferer, but involving an even more acute pang at the time of infliction. Prominent among these is what may be termed "Ballroom Borgianism”—a sacrificial ceremony wherein the lady of the house officiates as high-priestess, and immolates defenseless male youth upon the altars of unresponsive Wall-Floras. You find upon your library table a crested missive, through whose copper-plated medium Mrs. Hautevoléc requests the pleasure of your company on Monday theth instant, at 9 o'clock. Dancing, R. S. V. P. Knowing that the adorable Euphrasia will be there, you have, veraciously and conventionally, "great pleasure in accepting Mrs. Hautevolée's polite invitation for Monday evening next, and Bridget receives particular directions about "doing up" your white cravat with the embroidered ends, and the elaborate shirtbosom you brought from Paris. A week passes, filled with entrancing visions of Euphrasia and Fairyland; murmured rapture in the mazy waltz; delicious intercourse of souls in the conservatory's leafiest nook; sweet sounds and floating perfumes; and at last Monday evening comes. Who that sees you enter those resplendent rooms can realize the anxious care bestowed upon that dégagé costume-the ars celare artem adroitly manifested in the easy tie of the white cravat with the embroidered ends? Who among that throng of worldly votaries can know that beneath the elaborate shirt-bosom a swelling heart crinkles the superjacent starch with palpitating tremor? The saloons swarm with lovely girls; a vanishing perspective of gauzy robes and flashing jewels is indefinitely reflected in opposing mirrors; soft, languid music steals through the air, rising and falling in the hum of conver The worst feature of this great social evil is that it increases in a geometrical progression with x for a ratio. The common but surprising problem relating to a barter, founded on the number of nails in a horse's shoes, is a trivial impertinence compared with the stupendous proportions soon assumed by one's range of acquaintances in a large city under the hideous system that prevails. For instance-you have the ill luck to meet one John Smith some day at one of your usual resorts. Smith was, perhaps, a college classmate, or a fellow-clerk in a counting-house (before you rose to your present commercial eminence); or, peradventure, he is a client, or a patient (if a learned profession claim you). At all events, Smith is a fact; a disagreeable one, it may be, but none the less a fact. Smith is, of course, delighted to see you, and, after a few anxious inquiries touching your health and "your folks," avails himself of the opportunity to “make you acquainted" with Messrs. Brown, Jones, and Robinson, three friends of his, who happen to be with him on that occasion. If you should be residents of the same city, the chances are that you will meet Smith nearly every day, and that, at each meet-sation; the "world" is there with its hopes and ing, he will present you to a fresh batch of "friends;" for such fellows as he are popular men, and seldom go abroad without picking up a few desultory companions. This is bad enough; but it is only a beginning to your catalogue of undesired introductions. Each of Smith's friends has as large a circle of acquaintances as the original poisoner of your social existence; and, go where you will-to a hotel, to a reading-room, in cars, steamboats, banking-houses, restaurants -in town or country-you are sure to meet some one of Brown, Jones, Robinson, and Company, and as sure to be presented to some half dozen more of their friends, until your brain reels, and fears, its intrigues and enmities; but what are all these to you? Your eyes, your ears, your thoughts are centred in Euphrasia; Euphrasia, who sits yonder, more bewitching than ever, being terribly bored (you feel sure) by that stupid, conceited puppy, Bliffins, whom you remember when his father kept a small shop in the "threadneedle" line of business, and whose intelligence, education, and fortune you are confident are very much overrated. Being a man of the world, you are, of course, too diplomatic to address the object of your devotion at once; your policy (worldly schemer that you are) is to wait until the earlier crowd shall have dispersed; to be dutifully polite to ladies present who have invited you to their parties, and ingratiatingly attentive to those who may invite you hereafter; and then, when supper-time arrives, to offer her your arm; to minister to her wants; to struggle fiercely for her refection; and afterward to thrill through three blissful hours of "German cotillion" with her as partner. You pass her, therefore, with a bow and an expressive glance, and enter upon your routine of "business," artfully contriving, as midnight draws near, to remain unencumbered by confining your civilities to such fair beings as are certain to be claimed by other admiring swains. 66 vised for the relief of such cases of distress? Is there no law to prevent such flagrant breaches of the peace of mind? The minor miscreant who robs you of your purse, or he who illegally restricts your personal liberty in the outer world is condignly punished by the laws of the land; but what are their crimes compared with the offense against the nobler inner man, involved in these fashionable garrotings? This Many people consider it a point of good-breeding to present each of their visitors to all the rest; and, consequently, every new-comer on their "reception days" is formally retailed out to some dozen or fifteen previous arrivals. Finally, the supper-room doors swing open, may occasionally produce some awkward comand the reward of all your toil seems close at plications. Cardovan and I fell out some ten hand; your are hastening to where Euphrasia's years or more ago. (Oh, Sophronia! there are delicate kid glove awaits your protecting broad-scars which never, never fade.) From that time cloth, when the hostess arrests your progress, to this a mortal enmity has been between us. and, like a civil highwaywoman, robs you of We glare defiance at each other in the streets, your birth-right of free agency, and remorselessly and each is to the other gall and wormwood; snatches from your grasp the prize for which and yet scarce a month passes wherein we are you have waited and served so long. She not introduced by some well-meaning person at wants to introduce you to a very sweet girl whose house we chance to meet. To me the who doesn't know many gentlemen, and who oft-repeated form has lost its bitterness; but I has no partner for the 'German.' Would you can see his coarser nature wince under the chillkindly see that she gets some supper?" Re- ing courtesy with which I recognize his presence. sistance is futile. You know that there is no By continued practice I have succeeded in imescape; so, with a gulp of resignation, you suf-parting to my "delighted to make your acquaintfer yourself to be handed over to the custody of an immature seraph with pronounced collarbones and a freckled complexion, whose vocabulary consists mainly of monosyllables, and whose comprehension has never soared higher than the level of a school history. She feeds voraciously at supper (how different from the delicate daintiness of Euphrasia!), and when the "German" commences you discover that she dances execrably, and puts water on her hair. To add to your anguish, Euphrasia (doubt-resign the sphere of lovely woman's inspiring inless reserving herself for you) is for some time without a partner, but finally dances with the brutal Bliffins, whom you watch, eight couples away, grinning and basking in the light of her smile, while you, the legitimate heir to that happiness, are exiled to the arid promontories and sterile plains of the seraph's mind and body. ance, Sir," a barb which I can see rankle in his plebeian soul; and my adolescent anguish is amply revenged. A trustful mind, unlearned in the world's vile ways, might innocently imagine that by refraining from the outer intercourse of society, and adopting an eremitical course of life, these persecutions could be avoided. Vain delusion! You may forego the privilege of breathing the free air of heaven; you may shun your fellow-men, and fluence; you may forget old acquaintances, but you can not escape new ones. Popular solicitude will be aroused by your absence from your wonted resorts, and objectionable interlopers will "just drop in to see how you are," each one "taking the liberty to present a friend who happened to be passing with him." Should you be so utterly unfortunate as to possess a tastefully furnished house, a valuable picture, a fine group of statuary, a cabinet of coins or conchology, or any other attraction to public curiosity, your fate is sealed. "Not at home" is an entirely ineffective barrier against inroads. Every one who has ever had the most distant intercourse with you will bring scores of country connections to examine the interesting features of your domicile, and they troop from garret to cellar, hunt、 But if an "arbitrary arrest," such as the foregoing, be reprehensible, even when made by the high official authority of the hostess, what language can adequately anathematize the still more aggravated instances of kidnapping constantly perpetrated in "society" by brothers, cousins, uncles, and guardians of unattractive debutantes? The hand that traces these lines has scores of times been clasped with hypocritical fervor by felonious men who sought a vic-ing you down in any place of concealment you tim to whom they might transfer the incubus of some forlorn female relative, and whom, once lodged within her desperate clutch, they would leave to his fate throughout the weary night, pursuing the pleasures of their own emancipation in heartless indifference to the languishing captive. may have resorted to, and forcing upon your hospitality a crowd of prying inquisitors, each of whom will probably within the week presume upon this formality to act as cicerone to a party of his own selection. At your club you are pursued by the same relentless ill-fortune. A visitor from another city, Can no species of social habeas corpus be de- perhaps, brings a letter of introduction to you, and as the simplest mode of disposing of him, you inscribe his name upon the list of club guests. Now, one would suppose that to the most ordinary comprehension it would be self-evident that the fact of your neglecting to avail yourself of the facilities offered by club life to form the acquaintance of some of your fellow-members of long standing, must necessarily arise from disinclination on one side or the other; but the very first demonstration of gratitude on the part of your invited guest is to introduce you to the man whom, of all others, you have most sedulously striven not to know. Illustrations of the nuisance under consideration could be multiplied ad infinitum; but I trust that enough has already been said to impress upon my kind readers the importance of speedy and thorough reform; not precluding the inauguration of an intercourse between persons likely to prove mutually agreeable, but branding the want of tact which imagines it necessary to inflict an abominable formality upon even the worst assorted members of the human family. SEALED PROPOSALS. "Then, if your father is willing, I don't know what's to hinder," was the answer he made, God bless him! I spoke to father and mother that same night. Father was the first to answer me, and he only put me off. He said and I can see at this moment how afraid he was to speak for fear that whatever he said on such a business would be the wrong thing, not the right "There's your mother-what does she say about that?" I turned at that to mother. She was looking at me with a kind of surprise she couldn't get the better of. She didn't want to say it outright, but father's words seemed to make it necessary she should, and so she said: "I was in hopes, Benjamin, that it would be put into your heart some day to be a preacher." That was all. She wouldn't have said any more if she had thought that my mind would be changed by her talk. That was the SPIRIr's work, not hers. She would take upon herself none of His rights and powers, not even to bring about the thing on which her heart was set. She had never spoken about this wish before; but I found, after a minute or two, when I could NE day I was in a carver's shop doing a lit- collect myself, that it did not very much surprise he knew my father, and where he belonged, and so he always made me welcome there) when I overheard Mr. Price talking with somebody about his boy-I don't mean his son, for Mr. Price was an old bachelor, but the boy who worked in his shop-about his having gone away unexpectedly, and how much he missed him, when it flashed upon me that here was the place I ought to be, and not playing at toy-making for Miss Amelia any longer, but getting a good trade, and one that would be agreeable to me, like this of carving. Oh, such a vision of Work as rose up before my mind when this thought took possession of me! I seemed to leap into manhood and labor at once, and buildings which never have been built, and shops full of toys which have since been filled, rose up before me, and made me as happy as I suppose any fellow ever was. He was I stood there fussing with the lathe, pretending to work, until the men had done talking, and the man who didn't belong there had gone away, and Mr. Price was left alone. looking down at his work over his spectacles, carving a rose from a block of wood, all as if the thing was alive, and he got the fragrance of its breath. It was a good thing he wasn't looking at me, for I had time to recover myself, and think again; and when I had thought again I saw no reason for changing my mind, and so spoke out. a familiar sound, as if I had heard her speak them before, but I never had. That made me slow about saying, "Mother, I don't feel called that way; and I do feel called into Mr. Price's shop. You want me to be upright and honest before God and man- that's what you've taught me; and I know I have more fitness for carving than for preaching. Don't there seem to be a leading?" "Yes," said my mother, "I can see it, Benjamin ;" and there she dropped the business. It was a disappointment, but I could bear to think of it, feeling sure it saved her from a greater; and she met this in a way she met all the advances of Providence, with a gentleness, not of resignation (I should hate the word if it thrust itself for use in here), a gentleness of trust, that made the Lord love her for it, I am sure. After a while my father said, "Is it all settled between you two?" 'Benjamin will go to Mr. Price." I couldn't say one word. Then said he, "Be sure, Ben, you know what you're about now. If you are going to be a carver, be one. Stick to the business. Learn it all-every thing you can about it. Be a thorough-going carver, instead of a thorough"Mr. Price, is there any other boy coming going gardener, for that's what I expected you here to take John Tresham's place?" "I don't know, Benjamin," said he. "Take me, Sir," said I. "You, Ben-what for? Do you want to learn carving and starving, eh?" "I've got to be a carver,” said I; "my mind is made up to that.” to be." So you see I had three pretty good jobs on my hands when I went with Mr. Price. I had to satisfy my mother, my father, and myself, that my choice was the right one. I must preach the gospel of Beauty better than I could have preached the gospel of Providence or of |