rthy old jailer was called, who for
so long a succession of years had presided over the internal police of
the prison. He was a kind-hearted old gentleman; and amidst all the
storms and vicissitudes of party, was never removed from office during
his life-time--for the good reason, probably, among others, that the
venerable officer had grown so lusty in his place, that it was
impossible to remove him out of it, without removing a portion of the
prison walls also. Be that, however, as it may, the writer found Poppy
Lownds sitting in his big oaken arm-chair, dozing in some pleasing
reverie, like a Turk over his sherbet after dinner, or "as calm and
quiet as a summer's morning," to quote a favorite metaphor of the day,
in regard to the guiding spirit of an often-killed but still living and
breathing "monster." As the writer entered his apartment, he took a
long pipe from his mouth with the most easy deliberation, while the
last whiff from the aromatic Virginia weed curled upward in an azure
cloud, and mingled with the vapor which had preceded it.

Having made known the cause of my visit, in answer to the inquiry as to
the inmate of his establishment who had despatched the messenger, Poppy
Lownds assured me that the "distressed gentleman" was a good-looking
stranger, with an indifferent wardrobe, and rather out-at-the-elbows
like,--destitute of money, and somewhat in want of a dinner,--but one
of the easiest and best-natured prisoners ever committed to his charge,
since the evacuation by the British troops, in November, 1783;--an
event, by the way, which General Morton will not live long enough to
forget, although on every cold and drizzling return of the anniversary,
his brigade for three generations past have heartily wished that it had
taken place in June, or almost not at all!

The scowling turnkey was thereupon summoned, and the writer was
conducted through one dark passage and another, secured by bolts and
bars enough to have ensured the safe keeping of Baron Trenck, or a
second Ethan Allen. At length, ascending a flight of stairs, he was
ushered into an apartment, connected with several others, the
communicating doors between which were opened for the day, containing
sundry sorry groups of inmates, with long beards, and patches upon both
elbows, some of whom were eating the soup just received from that
excellent charity, the Humane Society--while others were playing at all
fours, with cards looking as old and dirty a