The Man Without a Country, and Other Tales Read online

  Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci, JoshuaHutchinson and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.

  THE

  MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY

  AND

  OTHER TALES.

  BY

  EDWARD E. HALE,

  AUTHOR OF "IN HIS NAME," "TEN TIMES ONE IS TEN," "HOW TO DO IT," "WHATCAREER," ETC., ETC.

  BOSTON:

  ROBERTS BROTHERS.

  1891.

  Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by

  TICKNOR AND FIELDS,

  In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District ofMassachusetts.

  CONTENTS.

  THE MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY

  THE LAST OF THE FLORIDA

  A PIECE OF POSSIBLE HISTORY

  THE SOUTH AMERICAN EDITOR

  THE OLD AND THE NEW, FACE TO FACE

  THE DOT AND LINE ALPHABET

  THE LAST VOYAGE OF THE RESOLUTE

  MY DOUBLE, AND HOW HE UNDID ME

  THE CHILDREN OF THE PUBLIC

  THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET

  CHRISTMAS WAITS IN BOSTON

  THE MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY.

  FROM THE INGHAM PAPERS.

  This story was written in the summer of 1863, as a contribution, howeverhumble, towards the formation of a just and true national sentiment, orsentiment of love to the nation. It was at the time when Mr.Vallandigham had been sent across the border. It was my wish, indeed,that the story might be printed before the autumn elections of thatyear,--as my "testimony" regarding the principles involved in them,--butcircumstances delayed its publication till the December number of theAtlantic appeared.

  It is wholly a fiction, "founded on fact." The facts on which it isfounded are these,--that Aaron Burr sailed down the Mississippi River in1805, again in 1806, and was tried for treason in 1807. The rest, withone exception to be noticed, is all fictitious.

  It was my intention that the story should have been published with noauthor's name, other than that of Captain Frederic Ingham, U.S.N.Whether writing under his name or my own, I have taken no liberties withhistory other than such as every writer of fiction is privileged totake,--indeed, must take, if fiction is to be written at all.

  The story having been once published, it passed out of my hands. Fromthat moment it has gradually acquired different accessories, for which Iam not responsible. Thus I have heard it said, that at one bureau of theNavy Department they say that Nolan was pardoned, in fact, and returnedhome to die. At another bureau, I am told, the answer to questions is,that, though it is true that an officer was kept abroad all his life,his name was not Nolan. A venerable friend of mine in Boston, whodiscredits all tradition, still recollects this "Nolan court-martial."One of the most accurate of my younger friends had noticed Nolan's deathin the newspaper, but recollected "that it was in September, and not inAugust." A lady in Baltimore writes me, I believe in good faith, thatNolan has two widowed sisters residing in that neighborhood. Acorrespondent of the Philadelphia Despatch believed "the article untrue,as the United States corvette 'Levant' was lost at sea nearly threeyears since, between San Francisco and San Juan." I may remark that thisuncertainty as to the place of her loss rather adds to the probabilityof her turning up after three years in Lat. 2 deg. 11' S., Long. 131 deg. W. Awriter in the New Orleans Picayune, in a careful historical paper,explained at length that I had been mistaken all through; that PhilipNolan never went to sea, but to Texas; that there he was shot in battle,March 21, 1801, and by orders from Spain every fifth man of his partywas to be shot, had they not died in prison. Fortunately, however, heleft his papers and maps, which fell into the hands of a friend of thePicayune's correspondent. This friend proposes to publish them,--and thepublic will then have, it is to be hoped, the true history of PhilipNolan, the man without a country.

  With all these continuations, however, I have nothing to do. I can onlyrepeat that my Philip Nolan is pure fiction. I cannot send hisscrap-book to my friend who asks for it, because I have it not to send.

  I remembered, when I was collecting material for my story, that inGeneral Wilkinson's galimatias, which he calls his "Memoirs," isfrequent reference to a business partner of his, of the name of Nolan,who, in the very beginning of this century, was killed in Texas.Whenever Wilkinson found himself in rather a deeper bog than usual, heused to justify himself by saying that he could not explain such or sucha charge because "the papers referring to it were lost when _Mr. Nolan_was imprisoned in Texas." Finding this mythical character in themythical legends of a mythical time, I took the liberty to give him acousin, rather more mythical, whose adventures should be on the seas. Ihad the impression that Wilkinson's friend was named Stephen,--and assuch I spoke of him in the early editions of this story. But long afterthis was printed, I found that the New Orleans paper was right in sayingthat the Texan hero was named Philip Nolan.

  If I had forgotten him and his name, I can only say that Mr. Jefferson,who did not forget him, abandoned him and his,--when the SpanishGovernment murdered him and imprisoned his associates for life. I havedone my best to repair my fault, and to recall to memory a brave man, bytelling the story of his fate, in a book called "Philip Nolan'sFriends." To the historical statements in that book the reader isreferred. That the Texan Philip Nolan played an important, thoughforgotten, part in our national history, the reader willunderstand,--when I say that the terror of the Spanish Government,excited by his adventures, governed all their policy regarding Texas andLouisiana also, till the last territory was no longer their own.

  If any reader considers the invention of a cousin too great a liberty totake in fiction, I venture to remind him that "'Tis sixty years since";and that I should have the highest authority in literature even for muchgreater liberties taken with annals so far removed from our time.

  A Boston paper, in noticing the story of "My Double," contained inanother part of this collection, said it was highly _improbable_. I havealways agreed with that critic. I confess I have the same opinion ofthis story of Philip Nolan. It passes on ships which had no existence,is vouched for by officers who never lived. Its hero is in two or threeplaces at the same time, under a process wholly impossible under anyconceivable administration of affairs. When my friend, Mr. W.H. Reed,sent me from City Point, in Virginia, the record of the death of PHILIPNOLAN, a negro from Louisiana, who died in the cause of his country inservice in a colored regiment, I felt that he had done something toatone for the imagined guilt of the imagined namesake of his unfortunategod-father.

  E.E.H.

  ROXBURY, MASS., March 20, 1886.

  * * * * *

  I supposed that very few casual readers of the New York Herald of August18th observed, in an obscure corner, among the "Deaths," theannouncement,--

  "NOLAN. Died, on board U.S. Corvette Levant, Lat. 2 deg. 11' S., Long. 131 deg. W., on the 11th of May, PHILIP NOLAN."

  I happened to observe it, because I was stranded at the oldMission-House in Mackinaw, waiting for a Lake Superior steamer which didnot choose to come, and I was devouring to the very stubble all thecurrent literature I could get hold of, even down to the deaths andmarriages in the Herald. My memory for names and people is good, and thereader will see, as he goes on, that I had reason enough to rememberPhilip Nolan. There are hundreds of readers who would have paused atthat announcement, if the officer of the Levant who reported it hadchosen to make it thus:--"Died, May 11th, THE MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY."For it was as "The Man without a Country" that poor Philip Nolan hadgenerally been known by the officers who had him in charge during somefifty years, as, indeed, by all the men who sailed under them. I daresay there is many a
man who has taken wine with him once a fortnight, ina three years' cruise, who never knew that his name was "Nolan," orwhether the poor wretch had any name at all.

  There can now be no possible harm in telling this poor creature's story.Reason enough there has been till now, ever since Madison'sadministration went out in 1817, for very strict secrecy, the secrecy ofhonor itself, among the gentlemen of the navy who have had Nolan insuccessive charge. And certainly it speaks well for the _esprit decorps_ of the profession, and the personal honor of its members, that tothe press this man's story has been wholly unknown,--and, I think, tothe country at large also. I have reason to think, from someinvestigations I made in the Naval Archives when I was attached to theBureau of Construction, that every official report relating to him wasburned when Ross burned the public buildings at Washington. One of theTuckers, or possibly one of the Watsons, had Nolan in charge at the endof the war; and when, on returning from his cruise, he reported atWashington to one of the Crowninshields,--who was in the Navy Departmentwhen he came home,--he found that the Department ignored the wholebusiness. Whether they really knew nothing about it or whether it was a"_Non mi ricordo_," determined on as a piece of policy, I do not know.But this I do know, that since 1817, and possibly before, no navalofficer has mentioned Nolan in his report of a cruise.

  But, as I say, there is no need for secrecy any longer. And now the poorcreature is dead, it seems to me worth while to tell a little of hisstory, by way of showing young Americans of to-day what it is to be AMAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY.

  * * * * *

  Philip Nolan was as fine a young officer as there was in the "Legion ofthe West," as the Western division of our army was then called. WhenAaron Burr made his first dashing expedition down to New Orleans in1805, at Fort Massac, or somewhere above on the river, he met, as theDevil would have it, this gay, dashing, bright young fellow, at somedinner-party, I think. Burr marked him, talked to him, walked with him,took him a day or two's voyage in his flat-boat, and, in short,fascinated him. For the next year, barrack-life was very tame to poorNolan. He occasionally availed himself of the permission the great manhad given him to write to him. Long, high-worded, stilted letters thepoor boy wrote and rewrote and copied. But never a line did he have inreply from the gay deceiver. The other boys in the garrison sneered athim, because he sacrificed in this unrequited affection for a politicianthe time which they devoted to Monongahela, hazard, and high-low-jack.Bourbon, euchre, and poker were still unknown. But one day Nolan had hisrevenge. This time Burr came down the river, not as an attorney seekinga place for his office, but as a disguised conqueror. He had defeated Iknow not how many district-attorneys; he had dined at I know not howmany public dinners; he had been heralded in I know not how many WeeklyArguses, and it was rumored that he had an army behind him and an empirebefore him. It was a great day--his arrival--to poor Nolan. Burr had notbeen at the fort an hour before he sent for him. That evening he askedNolan to take him out in his skiff, to show him a canebrake or acotton-wood tree, as he said,--really to seduce him; and by the time thesail was over, Nolan was enlisted body and soul. From that time, thoughhe did not yet know it, he lived as A MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY.

  What Burr meant to do I know no more than you, dear reader. It is noneof our business just now. Only, when the grand catastrophe came, andJefferson and the House of Virginia of that day undertook to break onthe wheel all the possible Clarences of the then House of York, by thegreat treason-trial at Richmond, some of the lesser fry in that distantMississippi Valley, which was farther from us than Puget's Sound isto-day, introduced the like novelty on their provincial stage, and, towhile away the monotony of the summer at Fort Adams, got up, for_spectacles_, a string of court-martials on the officers there. One andanother of the colonels and majors were tried, and, to fill out thelist, little Nolan, against whom, Heaven knows, there was evidenceenough,--that he was sick of the service, had been willing to be falseto it, and would have obeyed any order to march any-whither with anyone who would follow him had the order been signed, "By command of HisExc. A. Burr." The courts dragged on. The big flies escaped,--rightlyfor all I know. Nolan was proved guilty enough, as I say; yet you and Iwould never have heard of him, reader, but that, when the president ofthe court asked him at the close, whether he wished to say anything toshow that he had always been faithful to the United States, he criedout, in a fit of frenzy,--

  "D----n the United States! I wish I may never hear of the United Statesagain!"

  I suppose he did not know how the words shocked old Colonel Morgan, whowas holding the court. Half the officers who sat in it had servedthrough the Revolution, and their lives, not to say their necks, hadbeen risked for the very idea which he so cavalierly cursed in hismadness. He, on his part, had grown up in the West of those days, in themidst of "Spanish plot," "Orleans plot," and all the rest. He had beeneducated on a plantation where the finest company was a Spanish officeror a French merchant from Orleans. His education, such as it was, hadbeen perfected in commercial expeditions to Vera Cruz, and I think hetold me his father once hired an Englishman to be a private tutor for awinter on the plantation. He had spent half his youth with an olderbrother, hunting horses in Texas; and, in a word, to him "United States"was scarcely a reality. Yet he had been fed by "United States" for allthe years since he had been in the army. He had sworn on his faith as aChristian to be true to "United States." It was "United States" whichgave him the uniform he wore, and the sword by his side. Nay, my poorNolan, it was only because "United States" had picked you out first asone of her own confidential men of honor that "A. Burr" cared for you astraw more than for the flat-boat men who sailed his ark for him. I donot excuse Nolan; I only explain to the reader why he damned hiscountry, and wished he might never hear her name again.

  He never did hear her name but once again. From that moment, September23, 1807, till the day he died, May 11, 1863, he never heard her nameagain. For that half-century and more he was a man without a country.

  Old Morgan, as I said, was terribly shocked. If Nolan had comparedGeorge Washington to Benedict Arnold, or had cried, "God save KingGeorge," Morgan would not have felt worse. He called the court into hisprivate room, and returned in fifteen minutes, with a face like a sheet,to say,--

  "Prisoner, hear the sentence of the Court! The Court decides, subject tothe approval of the President, that you never hear the name of theUnited States again."

  Nolan laughed. But nobody else laughed. Old Morgan was too solemn, andthe whole room was hushed dead as night for a minute. Even Nolan losthis swagger in a moment. Then Morgan added,--

  "Mr. Marshal, take the prisoner to Orleans in an armed boat, and deliverhim to the naval commander there."

  The Marshal gave his orders and the prisoner was taken out of court.

  "Mr. Marshal," continued old Morgan, "see that no one mentions theUnited States to the prisoner. Mr. Marshal, make my respects toLieutenant Mitchell at Orleans, and request him to order that no oneshall mention the United States to the prisoner while he is on boardship. You will receive your written orders from the officer on duty herethis evening. The court is adjourned without day."

  I have always supposed that Colonel Morgan himself took the proceedingsof the court to Washington City, and explained them to Mr. Jefferson.Certain it is that the President approved them,--certain, that is, if Imay believe the men who say they have seen his signature. Before theNautilus got round from New Orleans to the Northern Atlantic coast withthe prisoner on board the sentence had been approved, and he was a manwithout a country.

  The plan then adopted was substantially the same which was necessarilyfollowed ever after. Perhaps it was suggested by the necessity ofsending him by water from Fort Adams and Orleans. The Secretary of theNavy--it must have been the first Crowninshield, though he is a man I donot remember--was requested to put Nolan on board a government vesselbound on a long cruise, and to direct that he should be only so farconfined there as to make it certain that he never saw or hea
rd of thecountry. We had few long cruises then, and the navy was very much out offavor; and as almost all of this story is traditional, as I haveexplained, I do not know certainly what his first cruise was. But thecommander to whom he was intrusted,--perhaps it was Tingey or Shaw,though I think it was one of the younger men,--we are all old enoughnow,--regulated the etiquette and the precautions of the affair, andaccording to his scheme they were carried out, I suppose, till Nolandied.

  When I was second officer of the "Intrepid," some thirty years after, Isaw the original paper of instructions. I have been sorry ever sincethat I did not copy the whole of it. It ran, however, much in thisway:--

  "WASHINGTON (with a date, which have been late in 1807).

  "SIR,--You will receive from Lieutenant Neale the person of Philip Nolan, late a Lieutenant in the United States Army.

  "This person on his trial by court-martial expressed with an oath the wish that he might 'never hear of the United States again.'

  "The Court sentenced him to have his wish fulfilled.

  "For the present, the execution of the order is intrusted by the President to this Department.

  "You will take the prisoner on board your ship, and keep him there with such precautions as shall prevent his escape.

  "You will provide him with such quarters, rations, and clothing as would be proper for an officer of his late rank, if he were a passenger on your vessel on the business of his Government.

  "The gentlemen on board will make any arrangements agreeable to themselves regarding his society. He is to be exposed to no indignity of any kind, nor is he ever unnecessarily to be reminded that he is a prisoner.

  "But under no circumstances is he ever to hear of his country or to see any information regarding it, and you will specially caution all the officers under your command to take care, that, in the various indulgences which may be granted, this rule, in which his punishment is involved, shall not be broken.

  "It is the intention of the Government that he shall never again see the country which he has disowned. Before the end of your cruise you will receive orders which will give effect to this intention.

  "Respectfully yours,

  "W. SOUTHARD, for the Secretary of the Navy."

  If I had only preserved the whole of this paper, there would be no breakin the beginning of my sketch of this story. For Captain Shaw, if itwere he, handed it to his successor in the charge, and he to his, and Isuppose the commander of the Levant has it to-day as his authority forkeeping this man in this mild custody.

  The rule adopted on board the ships on which I have met "the man withouta country" was, I think, transmitted from the beginning. No mess likedto have him permanently, because his presence cut off all talk of homeor of the prospect of return, of politics or letters, of peace or ofwar,--cut off more than half the talk men liked to have at sea. But itwas always thought too hard that he should never meet the rest of us,except to touch hats, and we finally sank into one system. He was notpermitted to talk with the men, unless an officer was by. With officershe had unrestrained intercourse, as far as they and he chose. But hegrew shy, though he had favorites: I was one. Then the captain alwaysasked him to dinner on Monday. Every mess in succession took up theinvitation in its turn. According to the size of the ship, you had himat your mess more or less often at dinner. His breakfast he ate in hisown state-room,--he always had a state-room,--which was where a sentinelor somebody on the watch could see the door. And whatever else he ate ordrank, he ate or drank alone. Sometimes, when the marines or sailors hadany special jollification, they were permitted to invite"Plain-Buttons," as they called him. Then Nolan was sent with someofficer, and the men were forbidden to speak of home while he wasthere. I believe the theory that the sight of his punishment did themgood. They called him "Plain-Buttons," because, while he always chose towear a regulation army-uniform, he was not permitted to wear thearmy-button, for the reason that it bore either the initials or theinsignia of the country he had disowned.

  I remember, soon after I joined the navy, I was on shore with some ofthe older officers from our ship and from the Brandywine, which we hadmet at Alexandria. We had leave to make a party and go up to Cairo andthe Pyramids. As we jogged along (you went on donkeys then), some of thegentlemen (we boys called them "Dons," but the phrase was long sincechanged) fell to talking about Nolan, and some one told the system whichwas adopted from the first about his books and other reading. As he wasalmost never permitted to go on shore, even though the vessel lay inport for months, his time at the best hung heavy; and everybody waspermitted to lend him books, if they were not published in America andmade no allusion to it. These were common enough in the old days, whenpeople in the other hemisphere talked of the United States as little aswe do of Paraguay. He had almost all the foreign papers that came intothe ship, sooner or later; only somebody must go over them first, andcut out any advertisement or stray paragraph that alluded to America.This was a little cruel sometimes, when the back of what was cut outmight be as innocent as Hesiod. Right in the midst of one of Napoleon'sbattles, or one of Canning's speeches, poor Nolan would find a greathole, because on the back of the page of that paper there had been anadvertisement of a packet for New York, or a scrap from the President'smessage. I say this was the first time I ever heard of this plan, whichafterwards I had enough and more than enough to do with. I remember it,because poor Phillips, who was of the party, as soon as the allusion toreading was made, told a story of something which happened at the Capeof Good Hope on Nolan's first voyage; and it is the only thing I everknew of that voyage. They had touched at the Cape, and had done thecivil thing with the English Admiral and the fleet, and then, leavingfor a long cruise up the Indian Ocean, Phillips had borrowed a lot ofEnglish books from an officer, which, in those days, as indeed in these,was quite a windfall. Among them, as the Devil would order, was the "Layof the Last Minstrel," which they had all of them heard of, but whichmost of them had never seen. I think it could not have been publishedlong. Well, nobody thought there could be any risk of anything nationalin that, though Phillips swore old Shaw had cut out the "Tempest" fromShakespeare before he let Nolan have it, because he said "the Bermudasought to be ours, and, by Jove, should be one day." So Nolan waspermitted to join the circle one afternoon when a lot of them sat ondeck smoking and reading aloud. People do not do such things so oftennow, but when I was young we got rid of a great deal of time so. Well,so it happened that in his turn Nolan took the book and read to theothers; and he read very well, as I know. Nobody in the circle knew aline of the poem, only it was all magic and Border chivalry, and was tenthousand years ago. Poor Nolan read steadily through the fifth canto,stopped a minute and drank something, and then began, without a thoughtof what was coming,--

  "Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said,"--

  It seems impossible to us that anybody ever heard this for the firsttime; but all these fellows did then, and poor Nolan himself went on,still unconsciously or mechanically,--

  "This is my own, my native land!"

  Then they all saw something was to pay; but he expected to get through,I suppose, turned a little pale, but plunged on,--

  "Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand?-- If such there breathe, go, mark him well,"--

  By this time the men were all beside themselves, wishing there was anyway to make him turn over two pages; but he had not quite presence ofmind for that; he gagged a little, colored crimson, and staggered on,--

  "For him no minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim, Despite these titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self,"--

  and here the poor fellow choked, could not go on, but started up, swungthe book into the sea, vanished into his state-room, "And by Jove," saidPhillips
, "we did not see him for two months again. And I had to make upsome beggarly story to that English surgeon why I did not return hisWalter Scott to him."

  That story shows about the time when Nolan's braggadocio must havebroken down. At first, they said, he took a very high tone, consideredhis imprisonment a mere farce, affected to enjoy the voyage, and allthat; but Phillips said that after he came out of his state-room henever was the same man again. He never read aloud again, unless it wasthe Bible or Shakespeare, or something else he was sure of. But it wasnot that merely. He never entered in with the other young men exactly asa companion again. He was always shy afterwards, when I knew him,--veryseldom spoke, unless he was spoken to, except to a very few friends. Helighted up occasionally,--I remember late in his life hearing him fairlyeloquent on something which had been suggested to him by one ofFlechier's sermons,--but generally he had the nervous, tired look of aheart-wounded man.

  When Captain Shaw was coming home,--if, as I say, it was Shaw,--ratherto the surprise of every body they made one of the Windward Islands,and lay off and on for nearly a week. The boys said the officers weresick of salt-junk, and meant to have turtle-soup before they came home.But after several days the Warren came to the same rendezvous; theyexchanged signals; she sent to Phillips and these homeward-bound menletters and papers, and told them she was outward-bound, perhaps to theMediterranean, and took poor Nolan and his traps on the boat back to tryhis second cruise. He looked very blank when he was told to get ready tojoin her. He had known enough of the signs of the sky to know that tillthat moment he was going "home." But this was a distinct evidence ofsomething he had not thought of, perhaps,--that there was no going homefor him, even to a prison. And this was the first of some twenty suchtransfers, which brought him sooner or later into half our best vessels,but which kept him all his life at least some hundred miles from thecountry he had hoped he might never hear of again.

  It may have been on that second cruise,--it was once when he was up theMediterranean,--that Mrs. Graff, the celebrated Southern beauty of thosedays, danced with him. They had been lying a long time in the Bay ofNaples, and the officers were very intimate in the English fleet, andthere had been great festivities, and our men thought they must give agreat ball on board the ship. How they ever did it on board the "Warren"I am sure I do not know. Perhaps it was not the "Warren," or perhapsladies did not take up so much room as they do now. They wanted to useNolan's state-room for something, and they hated to do it without askinghim to the ball; so the captain said they might ask him, if they wouldbe responsible that he did not talk with the wrong people, "who wouldgive him intelligence." So the dance went on, the finest party that hadever been known, I dare say; for I never heard of a man-of-war ball thatwas not. For ladies they had the family of the American consul, one ortwo travellers who had adventured so far, and a nice bevy of Englishgirls and matrons, perhaps Lady Hamilton herself.

  Well, different officers relieved each other in standing and talkingwith Nolan in a friendly way, so as to be sure that nobody else spoke tohim. The dancing went on with spirit, and after a while even the fellowswho took this honorary guard of Nolan ceased to fear any _contretemps_.Only when some English lady--Lady Hamilton, as I said, perhaps--calledfor a set of "American dances," an odd thing happened. Everybody thendanced contra-dances. The black band, nothing loath, conferred as towhat "American dances" were, and started off with a "Virginia Reel,"which they followed with "Money-Musk," which, in its turn in those days,should have been followed by "The Old Thirteen." But just as Dick, theleader, tapped for his fiddles to begin, and bent forward, about to say,in true negro state, "'The Old Thirteen, gentlemen and ladies!" as hehad said "'Virginny Reel,' if you please!" and "'Money-Musk,' if youplease!" the captain's boy tapped him on the shoulder, whispered to him,and he did not announce the name of the dance; he merely bowed, began onthe air, and they all fell to,--the officers teaching the English girlsthe figure, but not telling them why it had no name.

  But that is not the story I started to tell.--As the dancing went on,Nolan and our fellows all got at ease, as I said,--so much so, that itseemed quite natural for him to bow to that splendid Mrs. Graff, andsay,--

  "I hope you have not forgotten me, Miss Rutledge. Shall I have the honorof dancing?"

  He did it so quickly, that Fellows, who was by him, could not hinderhim. She laughed and said,--

  "I am not Miss Rutledge any longer, Mr. Nolan; but I will dance all thesame," just nodded to Fellows, as if to say he must leave Mr. Nolan toher, and led him off to the place where the dance was forming.

  Nolan thought he had got his chance. He had known her at Philadelphia,and at other places had met her, and this was a Godsend. You could nottalk in contra-dances, as you do in cotillons, or even in the pauses ofwaltzing; but there were chances for tongues and sounds, as well as foreyes and blushes. He began with her travels, and Europe, and Vesuvius,and the French; and then, when they had worked down, and had that longtalking-time at the bottom of the set, he said, boldly,--a little pale,she said, as she told me the story, years after,--

  "And what do you hear from home, Mrs. Graff?"

  And that splendid creature looked through him. Jove! how she must havelooked through him!

  "Home!! Mr. Nolan!!! I thought you were the man who never wanted to hearof home again!"--and she walked directly up the deck to her husband, andleft poor Nolan alone, as he always was.--He did not dance again.

  I cannot give any history of him in order; nobody can now; and, indeed,I am not trying to. These are the traditions, which I sort out, as Ibelieve them, from the myths which have been told about this man forforty years. The lies that have been told about him are legion. Thefellows used to say he was the "Iron Mask"; and poor George Pons went tohis grave in the belief that this was the author of "Junius," who wasbeing punished for his celebrated libel on Thomas Jefferson. Pons wasnot very strong in the historical line. A happier story than either ofthese I have told is of the War. That came along soon after. I haveheard this affair told in three or four ways,--and, indeed, it may havehappened more than once. But which ship it was on I cannot tell.However, in one, at least, of the great frigate-duels with the English,in which the navy was really baptized, it happened that a round-shotfrom the enemy entered one of our ports square, and took right down theofficer of the gun himself, and almost every man of the gun's crew. Nowyou may say what you choose about courage, but that is not a nice thingto see. But, as the men who were not killed picked themselves up, and asthey and the surgeon's people were carrying off the bodies, thereappeared Nolan, in his shirt-sleeves, with the rammer in his hand, and,just as if he had been the officer, told them off with authority,--whoshould go to the cockpit with the wounded men, who should stay withhim,--perfectly cheery, and with that way which makes men feel sure allis right and is going to be right. And he finished loading the gun withhis own hands, aimed it, and bade the men fire. And there he stayed,captain of that gun, keeping those fellows in spirits, till the enemystruck,--sitting on the carriage while the gun was cooling, though hewas exposed all the time,--showing them easier ways to handle heavyshot,--making the raw hands laugh at their own blunders,--and when thegun cooled again, getting it loaded and fired twice as often as anyother gun on the ship. The captain walked forward by way of encouragingthe men, and Nolan touched his hat and said,--

  "I am showing them how we do this in the artillery, sir."

  And this is the part of the story where all the legends agree; and theCommodore said,--

  "I see you do, and I thank you, sir; and I shall never forget this day,sir, and you never shall, sir."

  And after the whole thing was over, and he had the Englishman's sword,in the midst of the state and ceremony of the quarter-deck, he said,--

  "Where is Mr. Nolan? Ask Mr. Nolan to come here."

  And when Nolan came, the captain said,--

  "Mr. Nolan, we are all very grateful to you to-day; you are one of usto-day; you will be named in the despatches."

  And then the
old man took off his own sword of ceremony, and gave it toNolan, and made him put it on. The man told me this who saw it. Nolancried like a baby, and well he might. He had not worn a sword since thatinfernal day at Fort Adams. But always afterwards on occasions ofceremony, he wore that quaint old French sword of the Commodore's.

  The captain did mention him in the despatches. It was always said heasked that he might be pardoned. He wrote a special letter to theSecretary of War. But nothing ever came of it. As I said, that was aboutthe time when they began to ignore the whole transaction at Washington,and when Nolan's imprisonment began to carry itself on because there wasnobody to stop it without any new orders from home.

  I have heard it said that he was with Porter when he took possession ofthe Nukahiwa Islands. Not this Porter, you know, but old Porter, hisfather, Essex Porter,--that is, the old Essex Porter, not this Essex. Asan artillery officer, who had seen service in the West, Nolan knew moreabout fortifications, embrasures, ravelins, stockades, and all that,than any of them did; and he worked with a right good-will in fixingthat battery all right. I have always thought it was a pity Porter didnot leave him in command there with Gamble. That would have settled allthe question about his punishment. We should have kept the islands, andat this moment we should have one station in the Pacific Ocean. OurFrench friends, too, when they wanted this little watering-place, wouldhave found it was preoccupied. But Madison and the Virginians, ofcourse, flung all that away.

  All that was near fifty year ago. If Nolan was thirty then, he must havebeen near eighty when he died. He looked sixty when he was forty. But henever seemed to me to change a hair afterwards. As I imagine his life,from what I have seen and heard of it, he must have been in every sea,and yet almost never on land. He must have known, in a formal way, moreofficers in our service than any man living knows. He told me once, witha grave smile, that no man in the world lived so methodical a life ashe. "You know the boys say I am the Iron Mask, and you know how busy hewas." He said it did not do for any one to try to read all the time,more than to do anything else all the time; but that he read just fivehours a day. "Then," he said, "I keep up my note-books, writing in themat such and such hours from what I have been reading; and I include inthese my scrap-books." These were very curious indeed. He had six oreight, of different subjects. There was one of History, one of NaturalScience, one which he called "Odds and Ends." But they were not merelybooks of extracts from newspapers. They had bits of plants and ribbons,shells tied on, and carved scraps of bone and wood, which he had taughtthe men to cut for him, and they were beautifully illustrated. He drewadmirably. He had some of the funniest drawings there, and some of themost pathetic, that I have ever seen in my life. I wonder who will haveNolan's scrap-books.

  Well, he said his reading and his notes were his profession, and thatthey took five hours and two hours respectively of each day. "Then,"said he, "every man should have a diversion as well as a profession. MyNatural History is my diversion." That took two hours a day more. Themen used to bring him birds and fish, but on a long cruise he had tosatisfy himself with centipedes and cockroaches and such small game. Hewas the only naturalist I ever met who knew anything about the habits ofthe house-fly and the mosquito. All those people can tell you whetherthey are _Lepidoptera_ or _Steptopotera_; but as for telling how you canget rid of them, or how they get away from you when you strikethem,--why Linnaeus knew as little of that as John Foy the idiot did.These nine hours made Nolan's regular daily "occupation." The rest ofthe time he talked or walked. Till he grew very old, he went aloft agreat deal. He always kept up his exercise; and I never heard that hewas ill. If any other man was ill, he was the kindest nurse in theworld; and he knew more than half the surgeons do. Then if anybody wassick or died, or if the captain wanted him to, on any other occasion, hewas always ready to read prayers. I have said that he read beautifully.

  My own acquaintance with Philip Nolan began six or eight years after theWar, on my first voyage after I was appointed a midshipman. It was inthe first days after our Slave-Trade treaty, while the Reigning House,which was still the House of Virginia, had still a sort ofsentimentalism about the suppression of the horrors of the MiddlePassage, and something was sometimes done that way. We were in the SouthAtlantic on that business. From the time I joined, I believe I thoughtNolan was a sort of lay chaplain,--a chaplain with a blue coat. I neverasked about him. Everything in the ship was strange to me. I knew it wasgreen to ask questions, and I suppose I thought there was a"Plain-Buttons" on every ship. We had him to dine in our mess once aweek, and the caution was given that on that day nothing was to be saidabout home. But if they had told us not to say anything about the planetMars or the Book of Deuteronomy, I should not have asked why; there werea great many things which seemed to me to have as little reason. I firstcame to understand anything about "the man without a country" one daywhen we overhauled a dirty little schooner which had slaves on board.An officer was sent to take charge of her, and, after a few minutes, hesent back his boat to ask that some one might be sent him who couldspeak Portuguese. We were all looking over the rail when the messagecame, and we all wished we could interpret, when the captain asked Whospoke Portuguese. But none of the officers did; and just as the captainwas sending forward to ask if any of the people could, Nolan stepped outand said he should be glad to interpret, if the captain wished, as heunderstood the language. The captain thanked him, fitted out anotherboat with him, and in this boat it was my luck to go.

  When we got there, it was such a scene as you seldom see, and never wantto. Nastiness beyond account, and chaos run loose in the midst of thenastiness. There were not a great many of the negroes; but by way ofmaking what there were understand that they were free, Vaughan had hadtheir hand-cuffs and ankle-cuffs knocked off, and, for convenience'sake, was putting them upon the rascals of the schooner's crew. Thenegroes were, most of them, out of the hold, and swarming all round thedirty deck, with a central throng surrounding Vaughan and addressing himin every dialect, and _patois_ of a dialect, from the Zulu click up tothe Parisian of Beledeljereed.

  As we came on deck, Vaughan looked down from a hogshead, on which he hadmounted in desperation, and said:--

  "For God's love, is there anybody who can make these wretches understandsomething? The men gave them rum, and that did not quiet them. I knockedthat big fellow down twice, and that did not soothe him. And then Italked Choctaw to all of them together; and I'll be hanged if theyunderstood that as well as they understood the English."

  Nolan said he could speak Portuguese, and one or two fine-lookingKroomen were dragged out, who, as it had been found already, had workedfor the Portuguese on the coast at Fernando Po.

  "Tell them they are free," said Vaughan; "and tell them that theserascals are to be hanged as soon as we can get rope enough."

  Nolan "put that into Spanish,"--that is, he explained it in suchPortuguese as the Kroomen could understand, and they in turn to such ofthe negroes as could understand them. Then there was such a yell ofdelight, clinching of fists, leaping and dancing, kissing of Nolan'sfeet, and a general rush made to the hogshead by way of spontaneousworship of Vaughan, as the _deus ex machina_ of the occasion.

  "Tell them," said Vaughan, well pleased, "that I will take them all toCape Palmas."

  This did not answer so well. Cape Palmas was practically as far from thehomes of most of them as New Orleans or Rio Janeiro was; that is, theywould be eternally separated from home there. And their interpreters, aswe could understand, instantly said, "_Ah, non Palmas_" and began topropose infinite other expedients in most voluble language. Vaughan wasrather disappointed at this result of his liberality, and asked Nolaneagerly what they said. The drops stood on poor Nolan's white forehead,as he hushed the men down, and said:--

  "He says, 'Not Palmas.' He says, 'Take us home, take us to our owncountry, take us to our own house, take us to our own pickaninnies andour own women.' He says he has an old father and mother who will die ifthey do not see him. And this one says he left his pe
ople all sick, andpaddled down to Fernando to beg the white doctor to come and help them,and that these devils caught him in the bay just in sight of home, andthat he has never seen anybody from home since then. And this one says,"choked out Nolan, "that he has not heard a word from his home in sixmonths, while he has been locked up in an infernal barracoon."

  Vaughan always said he grew gray himself while Nolan struggled throughthis interpretation. I, who did not understand anything of the passioninvolved in it, saw that the very elements were melting with ferventheat, and that something was to pay somewhere. Even the negroesthemselves stopped howling, as they saw Nolan's agony, and Vaughan'salmost equal agony of sympathy. As quick as he could get words, hesaid:--

  "Tell them yes, yes, yes; tell them they shall go to the Mountains ofthe Moon, if they will. If I sail the schooner through the Great WhiteDesert, they shall go home!"

  And after some fashion Nolan said so. And then they all fell to kissinghim again, and wanted to rub his nose with theirs.

  But he could not stand it long; and getting Vaughan to say he might goback, he beckoned me down into our boat. As we lay back in thestern-sheets and the men gave way, he said to me: "Youngster, let thatshow you what it is to be without a family, without a home, and withouta country. And if you are ever tempted to say a word or to do a thingthat shall put a bar between you and your family, your home, and yourcountry, pray God in his mercy to take you that instant home to his ownheaven. Stick by your family, boy; forget you have a self, while you doeverything for them. Think of your home, boy; write and send, and talkabout it. Let it be nearer and nearer to your thought, the farther youhave to travel from it; and rush back to it, when you are free, as thatpoor black slave is doing now. And for your country, boy," and the wordsrattled in his throat, "and for that flag," and he pointed to the ship,"never dream a dream but of serving her as she bids you, though theservice carry you through a thousand hells. No matter what happens toyou, no matter who flatters you or who abuses you, never look at anotherflag, never let a night pass but you pray God to bless that flag.Remember, boy, that behind all these men you have to do with, behindofficers, and government, and people even, there is the Country Herself,your Country, and that you belong to Her as you belong to your ownmother. Stand by Her, boy, as you would stand by your mother, if thosedevils there had got hold of her to-day!"

  I was frightened to death by his calm, hard passion, but I blunderedout, that I would, by all that was holy, and that I had never thought ofdoing anything else. He hardly seemed to hear me; but he did, almost ina whisper, say: "O, if anybody had said so to me when I was of yourage!"

  I think it was this half-confidence of his, which I never abused, for Inever told this story till now, which afterward made us great friends.He was very kind to me. Often he sat up, or even got up, at night, towalk the deck with me, when it was my watch. He explained to me a greatdeal of my mathematics, and I owe to him my taste for mathematics. Helent me books, and helped me about my reading. He never alluded sodirectly to his story again; but from one and another officer I havelearned, in thirty years, what I am telling. When we parted from him inSt. Thomas harbor, at the end of our cruise, I was more sorry than I cantell. I was very glad to meet him again in 1830; and later in life, whenI thought I had some influence in Washington, I moved heaven and earthto have him discharged. But it was like getting a ghost out of prison.They pretended there was no such man, and never was such a man. Theywill say so at the Department now! Perhaps they do not know. It will notbe the first thing in the service of which the Department appears toknow nothing!

  There is a story that Nolan met Burr once on one of our vessels, when aparty of Americans came on board in the Mediterranean. But this Ibelieve to be a lie; or, rather, it is a myth, _ben trovato_, involvinga tremendous blowing-up with which he sunk Burr,--asking him how heliked to be "without a country." But it is clear from Burr's life, thatnothing of the sort could have happened; and I mention this only as anillustration of the stories which get a-going where there is the leastmystery at bottom.

  So poor Philip Nolan had his wish fulfilled. I know but one fate moredreadful; it is the fate reserved for those men who shall have one dayto exile themselves from their country because they have attempted herruin, and shall have at the same time to see the prosperity and honor towhich she rises when she has rid herself of them and their iniquities.The wish of poor Nolan, as we all learned to call him, not because hispunishment was too great, but because his repentance was so clear, wasprecisely the wish of every Bragg and Beauregard who broke a soldier'soath two years ago, and of every Maury and Barron who broke a sailor's.I do not know how often they have repented. I do know that they havedone all that in them lay that they might have no country,--that all thehonors, associations, memories, and hopes which belong to "country"might be broken up into little shreds and distributed to the winds. Iknow, too, that their punishment, as they vegetate through what is leftof life to them in wretched Boulognes and Leicester Squares, where theyare destined to upbraid each other till they die, will have all theagony of Nolan's, with the added pang that every one who sees them willsee them to despise and to execrate them. They will have their wish,like him.

  For him, poor fellow, he repented of his folly, and then, like a man,submitted to the fate he had asked for. He never intentionally added tothe difficulty or delicacy of the charge of those who had him in hold.Accidents would happen; but they never happened from his fault.Lieutenant Truxton told me, that, when Texas was annexed, there was acareful discussion among the officers, whether they should get hold ofNolan's handsome set of maps, and cut Texas out of it,--from the map ofthe world and the map of Mexico. The United States had been cut out whenthe atlas was bought for him. But it was voted, rightly enough, that todo this would be virtually to reveal to him what had happened, or, asHarry Cole said, to make him think Old Burr had succeeded. So it wasfrom no fault of Nolan's that a great botch happened at my own table,when, for a short time, I was in command of the George Washingtoncorvette, on the South American station. We were lying in the La Plata,and some of the officers, who had been on shore, and had just joinedagain, were entertaining us with accounts of their misadventures inriding the half-wild horses of Buenos Ayres. Nolan was at table, and wasin an unusually bright and talkative mood. Some story of a tumblereminded him of an adventure of his own, when he was catching wildhorses in Texas with his adventurous cousin, at a time when he must havebeen quite a boy. He told the story with a good deal of spirit,--so muchso, that the silence which often follows a good story hung over thetable for an instant, to be broken by Nolan himself. For he askedperfectly unconsciously:--

  "Pray, what has become of Texas? After the Mexicans got theirindependence, I thought that province of Texas would come forward veryfast. It is really one of the finest regions on earth; it is the Italyof this continent. But I have not seen or heard a word of Texas for neartwenty years."

  There were two Texan officers at the table. The reason he had neverheard of Texas was that Texas and her affairs had been painfully cut outof his newspapers since Austin began his settlements; so that, while heread of Honduras and Tamaulipas, and, till quite lately, ofCalifornia,--this virgin province, in which his brother had travelled sofar, and, I believe, had died, had ceased to be to him. Waters andWilliams, the two Texas men, looked grimly at each other, and tried notto laugh. Edward Morris had his attention attracted by the third link inthe chain of the captain's chandelier. Watrous was seized with aconvulsion of sneezing. Nolan himself saw that something was to pay, hedid not know what. And I, as master of the feast, had to say,--

  "Texas is out of the map, Mr. Nolan. Have you seen Captain Back'scurious account of Sir Thomas Roe's Welcome?"

  After that cruise I never saw Nolan again. I wrote to him at least twicea year, for in that voyage we became even confidentially intimate; buthe never wrote to me. The other men tell me that in those fifteen yearshe _aged_ very fast, as well he might indeed, but that he was still thesame gentle, uncomplaining, silent
sufferer that he ever was, bearing asbest he could his self-appointed punishment,--rather less social,perhaps, with new men whom he did not know, but more anxious,apparently, than ever to serve and befriend and teach the boys, some ofwhom fairly seemed to worship him. And now it seems the dear old fellowis dead. He has found a home at last, and a country.

  * * * * *

  Since writing this, and while considering whether or no I would printit, as a warning to the young Nolans and Vallandighams and Tatnalls ofto-day of what it is to throw away a country, I have received fromDanforth, who is on board the Levant, a letter which gives an accountof Nolan's last hours. It removes all my doubts about telling thisstory.

  To understand the first words of the letter, the non-professional readershould remember that after 1817, the position of every officer who hadNolan in charge was one of the greatest delicacy. The government hadfailed to renew the order of 1807 regarding him. What was a man to do?Should he let him go? What, then, if he were called to account by theDepartment for violating the order of 1807? Should he keep him? What,then, if Nolan should be liberated some day, and should bring an actionfor false imprisonment or kidnapping against every man who had had himin charge? I urged and pressed this upon Southard, and I have reason tothink that other officers did the same thing. But the Secretary alwayssaid, as they so often do at Washington, that there were no specialorders to give, and that we must act on our own judgment. That means,"If you succeed, you will be sustained; if you fail, you will bedisavowed." Well, as Danforth says, all that is over now, though I donot know but I expose myself to a criminal prosecution on the evidenceof the very revelation I am making.

  Here is the letter:--

  * * * * *

  "LEVANT, 2 deg. 2' S. @ 131 deg. W.

  "DEAR FRED:--I try to find heart and life to tell you that it is allover with dear old Nolan. I have been with him on this voyage more thanI ever was, and I can understand wholly now the way in which you usedto speak of the dear old fellow. I could see that he was not strong, butI had no idea the end was so near. The doctor has been watching him verycarefully, and yesterday morning came to me and told me that Nolan wasnot so well, and had not left his state-room,--a thing I never rememberbefore. He had let the doctor come and see him as he lay there,--thefirst time the doctor had been in the state-room,--and he said he shouldlike to see me. O dear! do you remember the mysteries we boys used toinvent about his room, in the old Intrepid days? Well, I went in, andthere, to be sure, the poor fellow lay in his berth, smiling pleasantlyas he gave me his hand, but looking very frail. I could not help aglance round, which showed me what a little shrine he had made of thebox he was lying in. The stars and stripes were triced up above andaround a picture of Washington, and he had painted a majestic eagle,with lightnings blazing from his beak and his foot just clasping thewhole globe, which his wings overshadowed. The dear old boy saw myglance, and said, with a sad smile, 'Here, you see, I have a country!'And then he pointed to the foot of his bed, where I had not seen beforea great map of the United States, as he had drawn it from memory, andwhich he had there to look upon as he lay. Quaint, queer old names wereon it, in large letters: 'Indiana Territory,' 'Mississippi Territory,'and 'Louisiana Territory,' as I suppose our fathers learned suchthings: but the old fellow had patched in Texas, too; he had carried hiswestern boundary all the way to the Pacific, but on that shore he haddefined nothing.

  "'O Danforth,' he said, 'I know I am dying. I cannot get home. Surelyyou will tell me something now?--Stop! stop! Do not speak till I saywhat I am sure you know, that there is not in this ship, that there isnot in America,--God bless her!--a more loyal man than I. There cannotbe a man who loves the old flag as I do, or prays for it as I do, orhopes for it as I do. There are thirty-four stars in it now, Danforth. Ithank God for that, though I do not know what their names are. There hasnever been one taken away: I thank God for that. I know by that thatthere has never been any successful Burr. O Danforth, Danforth,' hesighed out, 'how like a wretched night's dream a boy's idea of personalfame or of separate sovereignty seems, when one looks back on it aftersuch a life as mine! But tell me,--tell me something,--tell meeverything, Danforth, before I die!'

  "Ingham, I swear to you that I felt like a monster that I had not toldhim everything before. Danger or no danger, delicacy or no delicacy, whowas I, that I should have been acting the tyrant all this time over thisdear, sainted old man, who had years ago expiated, in his wholemanhood's life, the madness of a boy's treason? 'Mr. Nolan,' said I, 'Iwill tell you every thing you ask about. Only, where shall I begin?'

  "O the blessed smile that crept over his white face! and he pressed myhand and said, 'God bless you' 'Tell me their names,' he said, and hepointed to the stars on the flag. 'The last I know is Ohio. My fatherlived in Kentucky. But I have guessed Michigan and Indiana andMississippi,--that was where Fort Adams is,--they make twenty. But whereare your other fourteen? You have not cut up any of the old ones, Ihope?'

  "Well, that was not a bad text, and I told him the names in as goodorder as I could, and he bade me take down his beautiful map and drawthem in as I best could with my pencil. He was wild with delight aboutTexas, told me how his cousin died there; he had marked a gold crossnear where he supposed his grave was; and he had guessed at Texas. Thenhe was delighted as he saw California and Oregon;--that, he said, he hadsuspected partly, because he had never been permitted to land on thatshore, though the ships were there so much. 'And the men,' said he,laughing, 'brought off a good deal besides furs.' Then he wentback--heavens, how far!--to ask about the Chesapeake, and what was doneto Barron for surrendering her to the Leopard, and whether Burr evertried again,--and he ground his teeth with the only passion he showed.But in a moment that was over, and he said, 'God forgive me, for I amsure I forgive him.' Then he asked about the old war,--told me the truestory of his serving the gun the day we took the Java,--asked aboutdear old David Porter, as he called him. Then he settled down morequietly, and very happily, to hear me tell in an hour the history offifty years.

  "How I wished it had been somebody who knew something! But I did as wellas I could. I told him of the English war. I told him about Fulton andthe steamboat beginning. I told him about old Scott, and Jackson; toldhim all I could think of about the Mississippi, and New Orleans, andTexas, and his own old Kentucky. And do you think, he asked who was incommand of the 'Legion of the West.' I told him it was a very gallantofficer named Grant, and that, by our last news, he was about toestablish his head-quarters at Vicksburg. Then, 'Where was Vicksburg?' Iworked that out on the map; it was about a hundred miles, more or less,above his old Fort Adams; and I thought Fort Adams must he a ruin now.'It must be at old Vick's plantation,' at Walnut Hills, said he: 'well,that is a change!'

  "I tell you, Ingham, it was a hard thing to condense the history of halfa century into that talk with a sick man. And I do not now know what Itold him,--of emigration, and the means of it,--of steamboats, andrailroads, and telegraphs,--of inventions, and books, andliterature,--of the colleges, and West Point, and the Naval School,--butwith the queerest interruptions that ever you heard. You see it wasRobinson Crusoe asking all the accumulated questions of fifty-sixyears!

  "I remember he asked, all of a sudden, who was President now; and when Itold him, he asked if Old Abe was General Benjamin Lincoln's son. Hesaid he met old General Lincoln, when he was quite a boy himself, atsome Indian treaty. I said no, that Old Abe was a Kentuckian likehimself, but I could not tell him of what family; he had worked up fromthe ranks. 'Good for him!' cried Nolan; 'I am glad of that. As I havebrooded and wondered, I have thought our danger was in keeping up thoseregular successions in the first families.' Then I got talking about myvisit to Washington. I told him of meeting the Oregon Congressman,Harding; I told him about the Smithsonian, and the Exploring Expedition;I told him about the Capitol, and the statues for the pediment, andCrawford's Liberty, and Greenough's Washington: Ingham, I told himeverything I could think of tha
t would show the grandeur of his countryand its prosperity; but I could not make up my mouth to tell him a wordabout this infernal Rebellion!

  "And he drank it in, and enjoyed it as I cannot tell you. He grew moreand more silent, yet I never thought he was tired or faint. I gave him aglass of water, but he just wet his lips, and told me not to go away.Then he asked me to bring the Presbyterian 'Book of Public Prayer,'which lay there, and said, with a smile, that it would open at the rightplace,--and so it did. There was his double red mark down the page; andI knelt down and read, and he repeated with me, 'For ourselves and ourcountry, O gracious God, we thank Thee, that, notwithstanding ourmanifold transgressions of Thy holy laws, Thou hast continued to us Thymarvellous kindness,'--and so to the end of that thanksgiving. Then heturned to the end of the same book, and I read the words more familiarto me: 'Most heartily we beseech Thee with Thy favor to behold and blessThy servant, the President of the United States, and all others inauthority,'--and the rest of the Episcopal collect. 'Danforth,' said he,'I have repeated those prayers night and morning, it is now fifty-fiveyears.' And then he said he would go to sleep. He bent me down over himand kissed me; and he said, 'Look in my Bible, Danforth, when I amgone.' And I went away.

  "But I had no thought it was the end. I thought he was tired and wouldsleep. I knew he was happy and I wanted him to be alone.

  "But in an hour, when the doctor went in gently he found Nolan hadbreathed his life away with a smile. He had something pressed close tohis lips. It was his father's badge of the Order of the Cincinnati.

  "We looked in his Bible, and there was a slip of paper at the placewhere he had marked the text:--

  "'They desire a country, even a heavenly: wherefore God is not ashamedto be called their God: for he hath prepared for them a city.'

  "On this slip of paper he had written:--

  "'Bury me in the sea; it has been my home, and I love it. But will notsome one set up a stone for my memory at Fort Adams or at Orleans, thatmy disgrace may not be more than I ought to bear? Say on it:--

  "'_In Memory of_

  PHILIP NOLAN,

  _Lieutenant in the Army of the United States_, He loved his country as no other man has loved her; but no man deserved less at her hands.'"