grandeur to the scene. How delicious the feeling of rest that comes over
you at once!--the world shut out, the hills around, and the sky above.

It was in 1863, when the civil war was at its white heat. Circumstances
had given me undesired notoriety in that connection. I had been thrust
into the very vortex of its passion, and my name made the rallying-cry
of opposing elements in California. The guns of Manassas, Cedar
Mountain, and the Chickahominy, were echoed in the foothills of the
Sierras, and in the peaceful valleys of the far-away Pacific Coast. The
good sense of a practical, people prevented any flagrant outbreak on a
large scale, but here and there a too ardent Southerner said or did
something that gave him a few weeks' or months' duress at Fort Alcatraz,
and the honors of a bloodless martyrdom. I was then living at North
Beach, in full sight of that fortress. It was kindly suggested by
several of my brother editors that it would be a good place for me.
When, as my eye swept over the bay in the early morning, the first sight
that met my gaze was its rocky ramparts and bristling guns, the poet's
line would come to mind: "'T is distance lends enchantment to the view."
I was just as close as I wanted to be. "I have good quarters for you,"
said the brave and courteous Captain McDougall, who was in command at
the fort; "and knowing your penchant, I will let you have the freedom of
a sunny corner of the island for fishing in good weather." The true
soldier is sometimes a true gentleman.

The name and image of another Federal officer rise before me as I write.
It is that of the heroic soldier, General Wright, who went down with the
"Brother Jonathan," on the Oregon coast, in 1865. He was in command of
the Department of the Pacific during this stormy period of which I am
speaking. I had never seen him, and I had no special desire to make his
acquaintance. Somehow Fort Alcatraz had become associated with his name
for reasons already intimated. But, though unsought by me, an interview
did take place.

"It has come at last!" was my exclamation as I read the note left by an
orderly in uniform notifying me that I was expected to report at the
quarters of the commanding-general the next day at ten o'clock.
Conscious of my innocence of treason or any other crime against the
Government or society, my pugnacity was roused by this summons. Before
the hour set for my appearance at the military headquarters, I was ready
for mar