Showing posts with label Andrew Johnson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Andrew Johnson. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 26, 2026

Congressman Albert G. Brown’s Speech on the Homestead Bill, and in Vindication of the Policy of Providing Homes for the Homeless on the Public Lands, in the United States House of Representatives, April 28, 1852

"Despise not these Squatters."

The bill to encourage agriculture, commerce, manufactures, and all other branches of industry, by granting to every man who is the head of a family, and a citizen of the United States, a homestead of one hundred and sixty acres of land out of the public domain, upon condition of occupancy and cultivation of the same, for the period herein specified, being under consideration, in Committee of the Whole—Mr. BROWN said:

MR. CHAIRMAN: — It is my purpose to submit a few remarks on the proposition before the committee, and, however tempted by the example of others, I shall endeavor to keep within the lines of legitimate debate on the bill and the pending amendments.

I claim to have been among the earliest, as I have certainly been among the most steadfast friends of the wise and humane policy of providing homes for the homeless.

This government is the largest landed proprietor in the world. Its acres of untilled soil are numbered by the hundreds of millions. Of the area embraced within the limits of the Union, only about one-third is in the hands of private individuals. Nearly two-thirds belong to, or are subject to the disposition of the federal government. Under the general authority to dispose of and make all needful rules and regulations respecting the territory and other property of the United States, Congress has from time to time disposed of the territory for cash, and on a credit. Congress has disposed of the territory for school purposes and for internal improvement purposes, giving it to the states, to corporations, and to private companies, for these and other purposes. Congress has, from time to time, voted bounties to soldiers, to be paid in land; and these bounties have been voted in times of war, as an inducement to volunteer, and in time of peace as a naked gratuity. This legislation—these modes of disposing of territory—has received the sanction of all the presidents, and of every class of politicians. Precedent, I grant you, is the weakest of all authority, but so far as it goes, it settles the question of power in this case. If Congress can sell the public lands on a credit, or for one dollar and a quarter cash, per acre, why may we not sell them for one dollar, or for ten cents, or for one cent per acre? If we can give the new states, as we did in 1842, five hundred thousand acres each for internal improvement purposes—if, as in the case of every new state, the sixteenth section in each township can be given for common-school purposes-if, as in the case of my own and most of the new states, we can give lands for seats of government, and for colleges and for universities-if, as in the case of the Mexican war, and later, in the case of all our Indian and other wars, the honorably-discharged soldier can have lands given him, is it not idle to dispute the plenary power of the government to dispose of these lands-to give them, if you choose, to actual settlers?

The government holds the lands of Oregon by the same title—certainly by no higher title than it holds the lands in Mississippi, Minnesota, and other states and territories—and it is within the recollection of all of us, that during the last Congress we gave lands to the settlers in Oregon—to some a whole section; to some a half section, and to some a quarter section. Here is a precedent exactly in point, and it covers the whole question of power.

No one doubts my disposition to construe the powers of this government strictly-to confine it within the sphere of its delegative powers. And yet, looking at the unlimited authority given by the Constitution to dispose of the territory as property, I am free to confess that my mind is not only clear, but it is free from any shadow of doubt as to the power.* It is given in express terms, and nothing is left to implication. That the power may be abused is certainly true; and that abuses may violate the spirit of the Constitution is just as true. It is expected of Congress that it will dispose of the territory judiciously, and for the common good. A prodigal and wasteful disposition of it would be an abuse of power, and therefore a violation of the spirit of the Constitution.

The abuse, or the apprehended abuse of a power, does not at all affect the question of its existence. Congress, for example, has the power to declare war, and to this there is no limit. An unnecessary or wanton declaration would violate the spirit of the Constitution, but it would not affect the question of power. No one can dispute the power of Congress to declare war, however much we may deprecate its exercise in a given case.

The power to dispose of the public lands is just as clear as the power to declare war, and it is quite as unlimited.† I apprehend, therefore, that gentlemen are mistaken when they deny the constitutional power of Congress to pass this bill. The power is one thing, the propriety of its exercise is another, and a very different thing.

This brings us to consider the expediency of passing this bill. If it shall be found promotive of all the essential interests of the government, I take it, there can be no dispute about its expediency. And if it shall be found expedient, we shall be excluded from the conclusion that it is violative of the spirit of the Constitution. No exercise of a specific grant of power can violate the spirit of the Constitution, when it is only carried to the extent of promoting the general welfare.

If the bill shall pass in the form in which it was moved by my honorable friend from Tennessee [Mr. Johnson], or if the substitute moved by myself shall be preferred, in either case the great essential object aimed at by the friends of the homeless will have been attained. Homes will have been provided for all.

I shall presently contrast the relative advantages of the original bill and the substitute. But before entering upon this branch of the subject, allow me to submit a few general remarks on the point as to how the general interest of the country is to be promoted by the passage of this bill. The field for observation which opens at this point is a large one, and I do not propose to occupy the whole, nor indeed any considerable part of it.

It is indisputably true that every government has a general interest, as every good man certainly has a special interest, in preserving and promoting the public morals. Homeless people are generally an idle people, and idle people almost always become vicious. It has been aptly said, "an idle mind is the devil's work-shop." Men with homes are sometimes vicious, but men without homes are generally so. As a conservator of the public morals, I would pass this bill, and thus promote the general welfare.

We all have a stake in the happiness of our kind. Poverty and happiness are not incompatible. Indeed, they may be found in very good companionship. But when poverty becomes so inexorable as to turn a man, with his wife and children, out of doors, happiness is very apt to take its departure. A very sublime degree of piety might enable one of us to exclaim, "the foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the son of man hath not where to lay his head," and yet be happy. But, I take leave to say, it has fallen to the lot of but few of us to be blessed with such a sublimity of piety. As one who looks to the happiness of the people, I will vote for this bill, and in this way promote the general welfare.

Every man who loves his country will sow the seeds of patriotism, not among thorns, nor upon stony ground, but upon good ground, where they may vegetate and bring forth fruit, ten, sixty, and an hundred fold.

When the hundreds and thousands of your homeless people look out upon your vast domains, and see them tenanted only by wild beasts, they will ask, is my poverty so great a crime that my government prefers these beasts to me? am I to be kept in penury and want, and leave to my children no inheritance but poverty, whilst my government guards, like a surly mastiff, this mighty wilderness, which God in his providence has created for man, and not for beasts? These men's hearts will become stony, and the seeds of patriotism, though sown therein by your wisest, purest, and best political husbandmen, will not vegetate. Withdraw, then, your sullen, dogged watch over these lands. Say to your people, Heaven, in its bounteous providence, has given these lands and their fulness for your benefit: go and enjoy them.

Their hearts will leap with joy; the seeds of patriotism, though sown by such poor husbandmen as ourselves, will spring up and grow. They will put forth shoots that will entwine themselves about the country, and, growing stronger as they grow older, they will knit the hearts of the people to the government as with threads of steel. As I would encourage patriotism, I would pass this bill, and thus promote the general welfare.

The whole country as a unit, and all its parts, is and are interested in the profitable employment of the productive industry of the nation. It has been well said that "the man who makes two blades of grass grow this year, where but one grew last year, is a benefactor of his race." How much more must he be a benefactor who subtracts hundreds and thousands from the consuming, and adds them to the producing classes; or causes by his judicious policy, a barren wilderness to pour its millions into the nation's store-house! As I would employ labor—as I would reduce the number of consumers and increase the number of producers; as I would reap rich harvests next year, where nothing has been planted this year—I would pass this bill, and in this way promote the general welfare.

If the public morals may be improved, the public happiness promoted, patriotism enlarged, and the wealth of the nation increased by the passage of this bill, why shall we not pass it?

We have seen there is no lack of power. It seems to be promotive of the general welfare. If there be well-founded objections to its passage, they must therefore exist in some other quarter. This leads me to inquire whether any general or local interest will be injured if the bill passes?

It has been urged by the representatives from the old states that it will draw off their population. That the new states will grow strong under its operations, whilst the old states will grow proportionably weak. This objection is not well taken.

That there will be an impetus given to emigration, if the bill passes, is possible, but of its character, in the main, there can be no question. The landed proprietors—those who have comfortable homes, and are living independently—will find no sufficient inducement in the provisions of this bill to abandon those lands, give up their homes, and seek the privations incident to a new country. The well settled and prosperous portion of your citizens will not leave you to embrace the advantages of this bill.

In all the old states there are large numbers who are landless and houseless, who are dependent on the bounty or favor of others for the means of living. There are many thousands who belong to the consuming rather than to the producing class. Is it your interest or your policy to retain such a population? Is it not better to give them up, let them go, and even encourage their exit? I do not mean to say that these people, under other circumstances, might not be good and profitable citizens. I intend to say that a man without a house, and without a home, is very likely to fall into bad habits, and to become an incubus upon the country in which he lives. And that it is therefore better to encourage this emigration to a country where he can have land, a house, a home, and where he will be almost certain to become a useful citizen. Of the thousands in the old states who have neither lands nor houses, how few will ever rise above their present position! Some, I know, will set poverty at defiance, and move on to independence, or, it may be, to fortune. But the great mass will live and die as they have begun life, with no estate but penury.

In this view of the subject, the local interests of the old states will not be injured, but must, on the contrary, be essentially promoted by the passage of this bill.

I can imagine no worse condition of society than where a considerable portion of the people are without homes of their own, nor any better condition than where every man is his own landlord. Instead of sending sheriffs with armed posses to collect rents for the lordly proprietor, let us say to the unhappy tenants, Give up these lands, and take others that are better. They are the free-will offering of your government. In all this I see no sacrifice, but rather the promotion of the local interests of the old states.

The fear has been expressed that the passage of this bill will encourage an influx of foreigners, and that, instead of 500,000 per annum, we shall have 1,000,000 of emigrants to our shores. I do not think so. All come now that can get here. They come for freedom, and not for land. But suppose this prediction should prove true, I shall not be appalled. Let them come; yes, sir, let them come. They are of the same great family with ourselves. Heaven made this mighty continent not for our benefit alone, but for the use and benefit of all mankind. Let them come to it freely. It is the gift of God, and we have no right to withhold it from his people.

What is the objection to an increase of our foreign population? I have heard but one that is worthy of consideration; and that is, that they congregate about our towns, oftentimes become unruly, and too frequently swell the calendars of crime. This bill strikes down this objection at a single blow. It encourages these people to abandon the purlieus of your towns and cities; to give up vagrancy and crime, and become the owners, occupants, and independent cultivators of the soil. Does any man object to the Irish or German emigrant who cultivates the soil with his own hands? Is he not as orderly, as quiet, and as law abiding a citizen as your native sons? And do not the products of his labor go as far towards an increase of your national wealth? For one, I am willing to receive all who come to us from abroad, if they come to cultivate the soil.

Heaven has bounded our republic with two mighty oceans, thus placing a barrier deep and wide between us and the despots of the old world. I would not impiously defy the protection of Providence by crossing this barrier to attack despotism in its stronghold; but upon every breeze that sweeps the Atlantic I would send a message to the oppressed millions of Europe, bidding them come—come to an asylum on these shores, prepared by the Almighty, and defended by his chosen people.

It is said again, that this is a scheme of the Jesuits to extend the Catholic religion in our country, and to cripple or put down the Protestant faith. I was raised a Protestant believer, and I hope to die a professor of the Protestant religion. But it is no part of my Protestant faith to fear the Catholics. I am no more afraid that the Catholics will upset the Protestant church, than I am that the subjects of crowned heads in Europe will overturn Democracy in America. To the Catholic as well as to the Protestant emigrant, I extend a hearty greeting, and a cordial welcome. If he cultivates the soil, he will most likely be a Democrat; and whether he worships in a Catholic or Protestant church, he will make us a good citizen.

I have heard it said, the effect of this bill, if it becomes a law, will be to encourage foreign emigration, and that as most of these come to us with strong anti-slavery prejudices, we of the South are but nerving the arm of an enemy when we advocate its passage. If slavery is to be defended by excluding those from abroad who have prejudices against it, its doom is fixed, and the sooner the fiat for its extinction goes forth the better. I place my defence of this institution on the high ground of moral, social, religious, and political propriety, and if I cannot defend it on this ground I will not defend it at all. The right is never so much in danger as when its advocates shrink from an open and manly vindication of it. Justice may be overthrown if its votaries skulk and prevaricate in its support. Resting the defence of slavery upon high moral principles, I do not fear its overthrow, unless by the brute force of superior numbers. An untamed multitude, revelling in the insolence of unbridled power, may tear down the Constitution and bury slavery beneath its ruins. If this is the destiny to which the mighty North is conducting us, it does not matter whether we reach it during our pilgrimage on earth, or leave the journey half concluded, and entail on our children the melancholy task of following it to the end.

If American-born citizens will do their duty, we have nothing to fear from our emigrant population. If the native son refuses to do his duty, and wages war upon the Constitution, and upon the rights of his neighbors, we have then nothing to hope from any quarter. We must stand firmly by our section, and self-poised in the vindication of our rights.

If we contrast the relative position of the two great sections as to the public domain, we shall see how little there is in the idea that this bill gives an undue advantage to the North.

There is comparatively little soil in the Southern States belonging to, or under the control of the United States, and that little is of inferior quality. There are vast tracts in the Western States and territories, and much of it is of very superior quality. It follows, therefore, that, under the present system of disposing of the public lands, emigration to the Southern States must fall off rapidly at first, and presently cease altogether, whilst the stream to the West will increase in volume, and continue for a great while. The refuse lands in Mississippi, Alabama, Louisiana, Florida, Missouri, and Arkansas, will never be occupied at $1.25 per acre, and out of these states we have little or no government lands in the slave states. The good lands in Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin, Minnesota, and the western territories, will very soon be occupied at $1.25 an acre, or even at a higher figure.

I am for changing the policy so as to give us occupants for our refuse lands; and if in doing this, we send tenants to your virgin soil a few years earlier than they would otherwise go, I do not still perceive but that we shall be more gainers than losers by the operation.

I submit to my southern friends whether it is not better to divide the emigration with the North for a few years at least? Is it not better to take an addition to our population of a million in five years, and give the North two millions in the same time, than to stop emigration to the South entirely, and let the North have her two millions at the end of ten years? I take this to be true, that without a change of policy we shall never get our poor lands settled; and it is just as true, that the virgin soil of the West will be occupied in a few years, whether we change our policy or not. I want a change. It will people our lands, and if it has the effect of giving to the North as many emigrants in five years as she would otherwise get in ten, let it be so. It is only a question of time with them. Emigrants will go to them after a while under any policy. With us it is different. Our lands have all been picked and culled, and the refuse tracts may be peopled under this bill, but never at a cost of $1.25 per acre. I throw out these observations to show my southern friends that this is not a losing business to us.

I admit the obligation of a representative to guard the interest of his own constituents, and in this view I am for reform. I admit my sectional predilections—prejudice, if you please—and yet in this view I am for reform. Regarded in any and every light, I am for that policy which will populate our vacant lands, and give homes to the homeless and houses to the houseless.

The people who will be chiefly benefited by this bill, are among the most meritorious and yet the least cared for of all our population. The landless, the homeless, the houseless—who are they, and what are they in the old states? Hardy sons of toil, slighted by the world for the crime of being poor, and elevated to the dignity of freemen only on election days. In the new states, under the operations of this bill, they will become freeholders and householders, and will be at all times, and in every season, equal to the proudest nabobs in Christendom.

I know something, Mr. Chairman, of squatter life. It was my fortune to have been raised in a new and unsettled country. I know something of the toils, and hardships, and privations encountered by the squatters. I shall not detain you with a recital of all that I have seen, and heard, and felt. One incident I may relate. I will tell you why my heart is with these people. When I was a boy—a very little boy—an honest, but poor man settled (squatted is a better word) in the country where I yet reside. Removing from South Carolina, he pitched his tent amid the unbroken forest in the dead of winter. He had two sons able to work. He was in a strange land, without money and without friends. But with an iron will, such as none but squatters have, he attacked the forest. It receded before him, and in three short months the sun, which had been shut out for many centuries, was permitted to shine on a spot of earth in which the squatter had planted corn. Day by day he might have been seen following his plough, while his two sons plied the hoe. Toil brought him bread-and he raised up his sons to know, as Heaven's wise decree, that "by the sweat of their brows they should gain their bread." Industry and economy brought not wealth, but a competency. The elder of the two sons followed the example of the father, and cultivated the soil. Fortune smiled and he prospered. The younger, with such moderate qualification as a frontier country could afford, studied law and practised with success. In an evil hour for his private fortune, he was drawn into politics. He was elected to the state legislature, to Congress, judge of the circuit court, governor of his state, to Congress again and again, but he never forgot that he was the squatter's son. He stands before you to-day the humble advocate of the squatter's rights.

That, which was my father's fortune, and the fortune of his sons, has been, and may be again the fortune of others in a more pre-eminent degree. Nature has created no aristocracy of intellect. Despise not these squatters. Among them is many a rough diamond. They and their sons may rise to the first honors in the republic. Reared in no hot bed of aristocracy, never enfeebled by the enervating influences of wealth and luxury, their bodies are capable of unlimited endurance, and their minds are prepared for that rational progress which is the pride and boast of "Young America," and of the age in which we live. Is it at all wonderful, Mr. Chairman, that my heart should be always open to the privations and hardships, the wants and sufferings of the squatters on the public lands?

My associations with these people have never ceased, and I trust they never may. I have partaken of their fare. I have eat their bread, and slept beneath their humble roofs. Generous to a fault, with hearts free from guile, they receive their guests with an open, frank, and manly bearing, that says at once, You are welcome. A squatter never says from his lips am glad to see you, and in his heart wish the devil had you. This is a refinement on duplicity which belongs alone to the "rich and well-born."

I approach that point in this discussion which, of all others, is the most interesting: The best and most certain means of securing every man a home. How may this be done? My friend, the mover of the main proposition [Mr. Johnson of Tennessee], thinks this end will the most certainly, and in the best manner be secured, by giving to every man the right to settle on the public lands, and by conveying to him the title in fee simple, after a continuous residence of five years.

I am not going to make an argument against my friend's proposition. I honor the head that conceived it. The heart that is capable of such appreciation of the poor man's wants, is entitled to and receives the homage of my poor esteem. The nation, and, indeed, all mankind, should yield a grateful tribute to the mind that, almost unaided, has forced the consideration of this subject upon the American Congress. No; I am not about to oppose the main proposition; but I am about to inquire whether, in its details, it offers us the best guarantee that the first great object sought by us, that of giving homes to the homeless, will most certainly be obtained.

It proposes to surrender to the occupant the absolute title, after a continuous residence of five years on the land. If all men had capacity for managing with success their own private affairs; if all were provident, and we had security against the misfortunes of ten thousand kinds to which men are subject; if we had not already a full realization of the fact, that

"Man's inhumanity to man,

Makes countless thousands mourn;"

if men would learn to "love their neighbors as themselves;" then I should think that no better scheme had ever been devised than that of my friend from Tennessee, for securing every man a home. But we must look at men as they are, and shape our acts accordingly.

I feel under no sort of obligation to give land to any man by my vote, to be used in paying debts improvidently or viciously contracted. I shall not undertake to pay debts forced upon any man by misfortune. If debts have been contracted in consequence of disease or death; or of fire or water, or any other misfortune; or if, as is too often the case, they have been contracted by a foolish improvidence, or by drinking and gaming, I cannot and will not, in my legislative capacity, undertake to provide the means for their payment.

Suppose you give these lands in the mode proposed: Is there not great danger, that at the end of the five years' occupancy, a great deal of them will pass into the hands of sharpers and speculators, as the bounties to your soldiers have passed? It is no disparagement to mankind to say, that hundreds and thousands of them have no capacity for the transaction of business. God has made them so. May not a class of men more cunning than those for whom you are providing, draw settlers into contracts, involve them in debt, and at the end of five years, seize the very land you are now so generously giving?

It is not more a matter of reproach than of pity, that men will drink and gamble, and thus waste their substance. One man plies another with intoxicating drinks, or decoys him to the gaming table. In the one or the other case, he is made the easy victim of craft or villany, and this land which you are now voting in a spirit of generosity, may go to settle the account between them.

It is no man's fault that misfortunes fall upon him, and yet disease may prostrate him and involve him in debt. His domestic animals may die. Too much rain or too much drought, a late spring or an early frost, may cut off or destroy his crop. Floods, storms, or fires, may lay waste his property. A thousand misfortunes like these may run him in debt; and then inexorable creditors may come and take away his land, and leave him no better off than before you gave it to him.

To all this I am opposed, and against all these contingencies I would provide, as far as possible; and hence the substitute which I have proposed to the original bill.

The leading idea of my substitute is, that the settler shall have the right of occupancy so long as he chooses to remain on the land, being never required to pay for it, but always at liberty to do so whenever it becomes his desire and his interest to own the soil in fee simple. The fee under my substitute remains in the government until the occupant can receive it with safety, of which he is made the judge. If the substitute is adopted, it will make no difference how a squatter's debts may have been contracted—whether by improvidence or dissipation or misfortune his home is secure. The government gives him the right of occupancy, and no power on earth can take it from him. Secure in its possession, the energies of his mind and body will be free to expand and rise above the petty tyranny of a neighboring creditor. He will not be afraid to improve his grounds, or repair his fence, or stop the leaks in his cabin, lest he excite the eye of cupidity. He will not watch the clouds with a aching brow, lest it fail to rain upon his growing crop, thus dooming it to destruction, and himself to bitter disappointment in getting the means to buy his preemption. Let fortune smile, or fortune frown; let it rain, or let it shine; let storms or devastating floods come upon him, he may look them all in the face, and say, this is my home, this the castle of my defence: my government stretches over me its strong protecting arms, and bids my heart be still, for in this, at least, I am secure. I fix no five years of security; and after that, nor any other period, expose the poor man's home to execution sale; but for five years, and for all time thereafter, he is made secure in its occupancy. He need not look with a sad heart to the end of the five years, nor fear that his creditors will then come to take possession of his home, and turn him out of doors. His wife need not water with her tears a favorite plant, nor count the hours that are bringing the moment of her separation from her humble cottage. His children may pursue their childish sports, nor sigh as they look for the last time on some favored spot, made sacred by the recollection of many an happy hour spent there in childish revelry. Whatever may be his and their relations with the world, the whole family—husband, wife, and children—may rest secure in the possession of their home. There they may cluster around them the comforts of life-nor disturb their moments of quiet or repose with anxious fears, lest some inexorable creditor shall snatch it from them. Such, sir, is my substitute.

If fortune smiles on the humble occupant; if, by his labor, he has enhanced the value of the land, and for this, or for any other reason, he desires to possess it in his own right, he may pay for it at the minimum price of $1.25. This is his privilege; but it is a privilege that belongs to no one else. If, by his labor, he makes the land worth $10 an acre, he may still buy it for $1.25; and this he may do at the end of five years, or twenty years, or at any other time that suits him best. And if he never does it, the government will never permit another to take it from him. If he has made an unfortunate location, my substitute allows him to change it; and this he may do as often as he chooses-it being stipulated that whenever a place is abandoned or given up by an occupant it is again subject to entry or occupancy by any one who may choose to take it. If the husband dies, his right of occupancy survives to his widow. If both husband and wife should die, leaving infant children, the fee passes to these children, and it may be sold for their benefit. This provision has been inserted for two reasons: first, infant children cannot occupy the land alone; and secondly, these objects of misfortune, thrown, without father or mother, on the charities of the world, are entitled to our protection. If they find a parent's care nowhere else, I would let them to this extent, at least, find it in their government.

I have purposely excluded the adult children from all interest in the homestead, and for the reason that, as they become of age, each one acquires the same right that his father had before him; and I desired to encourage the rising generation to enter upon the active duties of life at an early age, instead of lingering under the parental roof.

That the new states within which these lands lie might have no just ground of complaint, I have expressly reserved to them the right of taxation. It will be the privilege of states to tax the settler, and in default of payment to sell his right of occupancy. The purchaser at such sale will acquire the same and no greater right than the settler. That is, he will acquire the right of occupancy for an indefinite term, with the privilege of entering the land at his pleasure, and to suit his own convenience.

There is one feature in my substitute which I must not omit to mention. It perpetuates the existing preemption laws. The same parties who are entitled to preempt under the law as it now is, will have the right if the substitute is adopted, and they will enter upon the lands under the same regulations and in the same way that they now do. The only alteration proposed being in the removal of the twelve months' limitation, and all other limitations as to the time when the right of occupancy shall cease. The right of occupancy without payment, under my substitute, is unlimited, it being the exclusive privilege, but never the duty, of the occupant to buy the land. The perpetuation of the existing law of preemption is better than the enactment of new laws. First, because the old laws have been adjudicated by the courts; second, because they have been construed by the executive departments; and thirdly, because the people generally understand them, and will need only to be told, if the substitute passes, that the law exists just as it did before, with the single exception that they will not be compelled to pay until it suits them.

I have already pointed out some of the public and private advantages which will result from the passage of the original bill. All these will result in an equal degree from the adoption of the substitute. I have pointed out some of the advantages which are peculiar to my proposition; but there are others to which I must advert.

The proposition has been assailed on the ground of its squandering the public lands and cutting off the revenue resulting from their sale. I shall show that there is nothing in these objections. What is it that you give under my substitute? Nothing but the right of occupancy, the right to occupy a bit of land in the wilderness, and therefore unproductive-and the right to improve and cultivate that land, and make it useful to the occupant and beneficial to the general wealth. In this there is not only a private, but public advantage. You make that productive which was before useless, and of no public or private benefit. But you answer, that I put an occupant on the land who may be a drone -one who will not cultivate or buy it himself, and yet, by his occupancy, keeps off all others; and generally that these unlimited rights of occupancy will prevent sales, and therefore destroy the land revenue. In all this, I think you are mistaken. That which a squatter on the public lands most needs is to have his energies—physical and mental left free. This twelve months' limitation hangs like an incubus about him. It paralyzes his body and disturbs his mind. Whilst he can hope to pay for his land at the expiration of the time limited by law, his energies are unshaken; but when hope dies-when, from any one of a thousand causes I could name, he foresees that he cannot pay, his energies sink-then it is he becomes a drone. He will not work, because he sees that every lick he strikes enhances the value of his little home, and more strongly attracts the eye of the speculator. These are the shackles that have bound many an honest and industrious man, and made him an easy victim to idleness and vice. Let us knock them off -let the man's mind and body have fair play. Give him plenty of time and plenty of land to work out his fortune, and nine times in ten he will do it.

Your present preemption system is a curse to the settler. He is first inveigled on to a piece of public land, and then he is afraid to improve it, lest some speculator, with more money than himself, shall take it from him. It is this fear that cramps his energies, and makes him idle, and sometimes vicious. I have great confidence in the squatters, if you will only give them an open field and a fair fight.

But, as a revenue measure, I should advocate this bill. Its earliest advantages will be found in the increased productions of the country. It will, as I said before, subtract largely from the consuming classes, and add as largely to the producers. I need not attempt to estimate the advantages to the national wealth, if all the loafers and idlers in the Union can be set to work. The advantages would indeed be incalculable. This measure proposes a bonus to all who will cultivate the soil. How many thousands will accept it I cannot say-but that many will I have no doubt.

The next advantage which I anticipate, will be found in the increased sales of the public lands. Yes, sir, instead of diminishing, I anticipate an increase of revenue from this source; and particularly if my substitute is adopted. When a man has settled on a piece of land, and has by his labor increased its value from one dollar and a quarter to five or ten dollars per acre, he will find many reasons for desiring to possess himself of the freehold; first, because he may want to sell it, and thus increase his active wealth; or he may, and in many cases he will, prefer to own the land in his own right, that he may enjoy the privilege of making an equal distribution of it among his children; and then there is a certain feeling of independence which all men experience in owning, by a clear title, the lands and houses they occupy. These are some of the reasons which will induce the settlers to purchase the land. What we ask of you is simply the right to occupy, free from all restraint and apprehension; and we give you the guarantee which these and other reasons afford, all of which are founded in human nature, that your sales will be increased instead of being diminished.

I pass over the general advantages resulting from early settlement on your frontiers; I say nothing of the gregarious habits of men-how one man goes because another has gone before him. I will not pause to count how much more land men will want when their industry has lifted them up in the world. These and many other considerations I pass over, because my time is almost out.

A word in conclusion to the friends of this measure.

It is an old trick in this House, when the enemies of a bill cannot slaughter it in an open field, to attack it in ambuscade. Many important bills have been killed off in this way, and you could no more discover the hand that strikes the blow, than you could tell "who it was that struck Billy Patterson." The bounty-land bill was disposed of in this way for ten years.

The modus operandi is this: We go into committee of the whole on a bill. Here the ayes and noes are not recorded, and consequently no responsibility attaches to any man's vote. All manner of amendments are offered. Some intended in good faith to perfect the bill, but much the greater portion to make it ridiculous. They are passed on a division, or by tellers indiscriminately, until finally the features of the bill are so distorted that its friends do not recognise it, and they turn from it in disgust. It is then left to the tender mercies of its enemies, and they table it without compunction or hesitation.

We are about closing the debate on this bill, and then we shall be brought to vote on amendments. I anticipate the usual course of proceeding. I shall not be surprised to see an amendment proposing to give every man a horse and a plough; another to supply him with all the necessary farming utensils, and a third to give him a negro to work his land, and others of like kind, and all intended to bring the bill into ridicule, and finally to destroy it. I need not say that such a mode of attack is ungenerous. Give us a fair record vote; let every man take the responsibility, and if the bill is lost, the country will know who were its friends and who its enemies, and with this we shall be satisfied.

I call upon the friends of this measure to stand by it and protect it as far as possible in committee against these amendments. If amendments are proposed in good faith, let us give to them a just, fair, and proper consideration. But let us stand united against all ridiculous and frivolous amendments meant only to destroy the bill. If improper amendments are adopted in committee, let us not on that account abandon the bill, or allow it to be tabled in the House. We can have the ayes and noes in the House on each amendment, and thus vote them out or force gentlemen to stand by them on the record. This is the only policy that will save this bill from the fate of many of its predecessors.

With an ardent desire that this measure may pass-that it may be sent as a messenger of joy to the humble abodes of the squatters; and that, as a harbinger of mercy, it may visit the landless, the houseless, and the homeless everywhere, I take my leave of it for the time being, and commend it to the paternal care of its friends in the House.

_______________

* See art. 4, sec. 3, U. S. Constitution.

† This proposition may be stated too broadly. General Millson inquired of Mr. Brown, at a later period of the debate, whether Congress could give the whole of the public lands to the President of the United States? Mr. Brown answered, "Yes; Congress has the power. To exercise it would be a monstrous abuse of power, and would, therefore, violate the spirit of the Constitution." General Millson reminded him that the compensation of the President could not be increased during his term of service. Mr. Brown admitted, that in this view of the subject, he had stated his proposition too broadly. If the gentleman from Virginia had asked him (Mr. B.) if the President's compensation could be increased by giving him land, Mr. B. would have answered, No. But this was rather a question as to the power to receive on the part of the executive, than the power to give on the part of the legislature.

Mr. B. admits that the power of Congress over the territory, as given in the third section, article 4, of the Constitution, may be limited (as in the case cited by General Millson) by the prohibitory clauses in other parts of the Constitution. But he maintains that there is no such prohibition in regard to the settlers or other citizens, and therefore that the power is plenary as to them. It was this class of people that Mr. Brown had in his mind's eye when he stated his proposition that Congress had as unlimited power over the public lands as it had to declare war. And in this view of the case he adheres to his first proposition.

SOURCE: M. W. Cluskey, Editor, Speeches, Messages, and Other Writings of the Hon. Albert G. Brown, A Senator in Congress from the State of Mississippi, pp. 304-16

Wednesday, April 15, 2026

Diary of Gideon Welles, Monday, July 9, 1866

Senator Morgan spent last evening at my house. Our conversation was chiefly on public affairs, but there was not that unreserved and cordial intimacy which we have sometimes had. No allusion was made to the national convention, which was unnatural and could not have been, had there been our old and friendly sympathy.

I censured strongly, perhaps harshly, the proposed Constitutional changes and the method of getting them through Congress by caucuses, excluding the Democratic minority and one third of the States, etc. He attempted no defense or justification. Trumbull, he tells me, has introduced another of his revolutionary bills to deprive the President of his Constitutional right of removing from office. This subject, like most measures in each house, was passed through a caucus crucible. M. says he refused to give it his sanction, and so did one other.

I have no doubt Morgan feels a little uncomfortable in the existing state of things, and I fancy he is conscious he has committed a mistake. There are strange men in position in New York. The Weed school is a bad one. Raymond is a specimen. A man of considerable talent, but of little consistency of principle. I have so said to the President more than once, and I think he understands R., yet Seward is in with him, directs his movements by Weed's help, and has influenced the President in R.'s favor to some extent. No man has more injured the cause of the President in Congress or more strengthened the Radicals than Raymond, the pronounced organ of the Administration, but only the confidant of Seward. He has by his fickle, versatile changes, attempting to go with the President but always deserting him, and always clinging to party, deterred [some] by his example, others by his ridiculous somersaults. No one follows him.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 2: April 1, 1864 — December 31, 1866, pp. 549-50

Diary of Gideon Welles, Wednesday, July 11, 1866

This morning received telegram that my nephew, Samuel Welles, constructing engineer at Mare Island, died last evening at 7.15 from injuries received by the explosion of a steam boiler in the Navy Yard. His death is a loss to his country as well as his family, for he was one of the most promising young men in all my acquaintance. Had it pleased God to spare his life, he bade fair to be at the very head of his profession, and would from his ability and integrity have been, if he chose public life, among the first citizens of California. Although young, he was the ablest and best civil engineer in the service, and I know not how nor whom to select to fill his place. Of fine abilities, excellent judgment, great kindness of heart, suavity of manners, and readiness to serve and befriend others, he endeared himself to all who knew him. I loved him as a son. He had always great respect and affection for me, had spent much time in my family, and was almost as one of our household. In September he was to have returned home and to have been married. But, alas, all is changed.

There is rumored this evening that Postmaster-General Dennison has resigned. I shall not be disappointed if such is the case. For two or three months he has wavered on important measures, been less intimate and familiar personally than he was, and some recent indications and remarks have prepared me for this step. If it has not been taken already, I have little doubt that it soon will be.

Harlan and Speed will follow. Whether Stanton will go with them is doubtful. Although he has been fully with the Radicals in all their extreme measures from the beginning, he has professed to abandon them when the President made a distinct stand on any subject. I am, therefore, uncertain what course he will take; but if he leaves he will be likely to be malevolent. He is selfish, insincere, a dissembler, and treacherous. Dennison, however, is honorable and manly. If his Radical friends have finally succeeded in persuading him to go with them, he will do it openly and leave the Cabinet, not remain to embarrass and counteract the President, or, like them, strive to retain place and seek the confidence of his chief to betray him.

I read to Blair my answer to Doolittle concerning the national convention. He is highly pleased with it and suggested I should make a point on the imminent danger of another civil war. Blair repeats a conversation with Boutwell, a Massachusetts fanatic, who avows that the Radicals are preparing for another war.

Blair says the Radical programme is to make Wade President of the Senate, then to impeach the President. Having done this the Radicals will be prepared to exclude the Southern Members from the next Congress, and the Southern States from the next Presidential election.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 2: April 1, 1864 — December 31, 1866, pp. 551-2

Diary of Gideon Welles, Friday, July 13, 1866

The morning papers contain my letter to Senator Doolittle in response to his inquiry conveying my views of the Republican Convention. It is very explicit and much complimented.

Seward read to the President and myself a letter which he had written on the same subject. I told the President I ought, perhaps, to apologize for not having read my letter to him also, that I had thought of it, but concluded I ought not to make him in any way responsible for my unofficial acts. He said he would cheerfully assume the responsibility of every sentiment of my letter, which he had twice read and heartily approved.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 2: April 1, 1864 — December 31, 1866, p. 553

Diary of Gideon Welles, Sunday, July 15, 1866

Senator Doolittle took breakfast with me this morning. He is pleased that a cane on which there had been great competition at the fair between him and Senator Harris had been voted to him. The rivalry had run the cane up to over $3000. I, of course, was glad he was victor.

Doolittle says my letter was complimented by men of all parties in the Senate and that Senators referred to my reports and other writings in flattering terms. Blair says it was read at a meeting at his house the evening before publication, and that, about fifty being present, they, every man, extolled it, although men of different shades of politics and parties were present.

There are flying rumors that Speed and Harlan, and some say Stanton, have sent in their resignations. It is excessively warm and I have not thought proper to call on the President and inquire. Possibly Speed has resigned, though I have some doubts; more as regards Harlan; and I am incredulous as regards Stanton.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 2: April 1, 1864 — December 31, 1866, pp. 553-4

Saturday, April 4, 2026

Diary of Elvira J. Powers, Tuesday, April 12, 1864

Have visited Hospital, No. 8, as well as No. 1, several times since I have been here, and am priviledged to carry some delicacies, and write letters for its inmates.

I yesterday visited Hospital, No. 1, for the last time probably, while those remain in whom I have become specially interested. But have made such arrangements that William and the Alabamian, who were given to my care, shall have whatever is needed. They seem to regret my departure, but William is decidedly better. Carried a large bottle of lemonade, some oranges, and blackberry sirup.

Found a poor old Norwegian suffering terribly from the application of bromine to the gangrenous wound in his arm. He was very thankful for an orange and some lemonade—had eaten nothing for two days. His face and bald, venerable head were covered with a red silk handkerchief, to hide the great tears which were pressed out by the pain; but his nurse said he never gave a word of complaint.

The German with amputated limb is easier—the blind man hopeful of sight, and the little fellow improving, who "enlisted to fight, and not to be sick."

While in ward 3, yesterday, I was beckoned to, from a sick bed, whose occupant wished me to come and "rejoice with him." Upon going there he assured me with a mysterious air, that he "isn't going to tell everybody, but as I was a particular friend of his, and he had always thought right smart of me, he would tell me something greatly surprising."

Upon expressing my willingness to be surprised, he confidently and joyfully assured me that though very few people knew it, yet he was "The veritable man who killed Jeff. Davis, President of the Confederate States!"

He waited a moment to note the effect upon me of this pleasing intelligence, when I quietly told him I didn't know before that Jeff. Davis was dead, but that if he was, and he was the one who killed him, they ought to give him a discharge and let him go home, as he has done his share of the work. Then he joyfully assured me, that "they have promised to do so, and that his papers are to be made out to-morrow." But more serious thoughts came to me then, for I saw written upon his countenance, in unmistakable characters, the signature of the Death angel, marking his chosen, and though I knew not how soon his papers would be made out, was certain that before long they would be, and that he would receive a full and free discharge from all earthly toil and battle from the Great Medical Director of us all!

While passing through the aisles of wounded men, and hearing their stories, many of them intensely graphic, I seemed to hear something like the following, which, may the author whose name I do not know, pardon me for copying:*

"Let me lie down,

Just here in the shade of this cannon-torn tree,—

Here, low on the trampled grass, where I may see

The surge of the combat; and where I may hear

The glad cry of victory, cheer upon cheer:

Let me lie down.

 

Oh, it was grand!

Like the tempest we charged, in the triumph to share;

The tempest—its fury and thunder were there;

On, on, o'er intrenchments, o'er living and dead,

With the foe under foot, and our flag overhead,—

Oh, it was grand!

 

Weary and faint,

Prone on the soldier's couch, ah! how can I rest

With this shot shattered head and sabre-pierced breast ?

Comrades, at roll-call, when I shall be sought,

Say I fought till I fell, and fell where I fought,

Wounded and faint.

 

Oh, that last charge!

Right through the dread hell-fire of shrapnel and shell,—

Through without faltering, clear through with a yell,

Right in their midst, in the turmoil and gloom,

Like heroes we dashed at the mandate of doom!

Oh, that last charge!

 

It was duty!

Some things are worthless, and some others so good,

That nations who buy them pay only in blood;

For Freedom and Union each man owes his part;

And here I pay my share, all warm from my heart,

It is duty!

 

Dying at last!

My mother, dear mother, with meek, tearful eye,

Farewell! and God bless you for ever and aye!

Oh, that I now lay on your pillowing breast,

To breathe my last sigh on the bosom first prest!

Dying at last!

 

I am no saint!

But, boys, say a prayer. There's one that begins,

'Our Father;' and then says, 'Forgive us our sins:'

Don't forget that part; say that strongly; and then

I'll try to repeat it, and you'll say amen!

Ah! I'm no saint!

 

Hark! there's a shout!

Raise me up, comrades! We have conquered, I know;

Up, on my feet, with my face to the foe!

Ah! there flies the flag, with its star spangles bright,

The promise of Glory, the symbol of Right!

Well may they shout!

 

I'm mustered out!

O God of our fathers! our freedom prolong,

And tread down rebellion, oppression, and wrong!

O land of earth's hopes! on thy blood-reddened sod,

I die for the Nation, the Union, and God!

I'm mustered out!"

_______________

NASHVILLE is a city which is set upon hills. It is also founded upon a rock, and the fact that it has not much earth upon that rock, is made the pretext for leaving numberless deceased horses and mules upon the surface, without even a heathen burial, until they are numbered with the things that were.

But it has been comfortingly asserted by the agent of the Christian Commission here, Rev. E. P. Smith, that it is astonishing how much dead mule one may breathe, and yet survive.

Nashville is also a city of narrow, filthy streets, and in some localities, of water, which, like the "offence" of the king of Denmark, "smells to Heaven."

It is moreover a city of mules. Two, four, and six mule teams, with a driver astride of one of them, and sometimes with the high, comical-looking Tennessean wagons attached not to the driver particularly, but to the mules. These, with mulish mules, who draw crowds instead of wagons, animate the streets day and night. It is a city of either dust or mud—but one street boasts a street-sprinkler.

The citizens of Nashville who remain, have mostly taken the oath of allegiance to protect their property, but it is estimated that not above one in fifty is, at heart, loyal. The ladies (?) sometimes show their contempt of Northern laborers by making up faces when meeting them upon the streets, but there are so many "blue coats" about, they do not think it advisable to allow their

"Angry passions rise,"

To tear out our eyes;"

as they would evidently consider it a great pleasure to accomplish.

Nashville and its vicinity boasts a few distinguished personages beside myself. Mrs. Polk, widow of the Ex-President, resides a few blocks from this. Gen. Sherman's headquarters are at a lovely retreat, we think, on High Street, and Gen. Rouseau's but a few blocks distant, while the Hermitage of Gen. Andrew Jackson is but twelve miles east of the city. This has many visitors, but who seldom venture now without a guard. Since our stay here, a party of four ladies from Hospital, No. 19, with as many gentlemen, and a guard of thirteen, visited the Hermitage, who learned next day that a party of guerillas, 100 in number, came there an hour after they had left, and followed them. At first, as they informed us, they made it a subject for pleasant jesting, but after farther consideration, for that of serious thought, as they came rather too near being candidates for "Libby," or a worse fate.

A nephew, who is also an adopted son of the old General, has charge of the place; he has two sons in the rebel service. The property is confiscated to the Government, but the family, out of respect to the memory of the stern old patriot, are permitted to remain. The visitors may see here the quaint and cumbrous family carriage in which the General used to journey, together with a buggy, made from the timbers of the old ship Ironsides.

The family, especially the female portion of it, being of secession principles, keep themselves secluded from the gaze of northern mudsills. But the mudsills, presuming upon the cordial reception which they believe would be extended by the General himself, usually make themselves sufficiently at home to wander at their own sweet will through the grounds, and partake of a lunch on the shaded piazza.

It is a fine old mansion, approached by a circular avenue, which is shaded by grand old trees. And notwithstanding that the General has adopted grandsons in the rebel service, and his family are secessionists, yet it requires but little faith to believe that the stern old hero is not unmindful of the present gigantic struggle, neither a great flight. of the imagination when the wind is moaning and stirring the lofty branches of the grand old trees, to fancy that his voice, in suppressed and now reverent accents, yet emphatically exclaims:—

"By the Eternal, the Union must, and shall be preserved!"

The city contains many elegant private residences, and splendid public buildings.

Among the latter is the State Asylum for the Insane, which has four hundred and fifty acres attached, and had an expenditure of $48,000 per annum. Another is the Institution for the Blind, the expenses of which for the year 1850, were nearly $8,000. The Tennessean Penitentiary is also a superior structure. In September 30, 1850, the number of inmates was three hundred and seventy-eight, and of this number three hundred and sixty-six, were white men, with only eight black men, three white women with only one black woman.

The Medical College is a fine building and contains a valuable museum. The University is an imposing edifice of gray marble, while the Masonic Hall, the Seminary and graded school buildings are spacious and beautiful structures. The first in importance, among the public buildings of Nashville, and which is second to none in the United States in point of solidity and durability, is the Capitol. This is a magnificent edifice, situated on an eminence one hundred and seventy-five feet above the river, and constructed inside and out, of a beautiful variety of fossilliferous limestone or Tennessee marble. At each end, it has an Ionic portico of eight columns, and each of the sides, a portico of six. A tower rises from the centre of the roof to the hight of two hundred and six feet from the ground. This has a quadrangular base surmounted by a circular cell, with eight fluted Corinthian columns, designed from the celebrated choragic monument of Lysicrates, at Athens.

Among the private residences we have seen, is a beautiful mansion, still unfinished, which, at the time of his death, was being built for the rebel Gen. Zollicoffer. A more unpretending one perhaps, is that of the widow of ex-President Polk, the grounds surrounding which contain his tomb—a plain, simple, temple-like fabric, of light brown marble.

That beautiful baronial domain known as the Achlen estate is situate about two miles out of town. For attractions it has extensive grounds, with great variety and profusion of shrubbery, among which flash out here and there, life-like statues of men and animals, and miniature monuments and temples. A fountain jets its diamond drops, while an artificial pond is the home of the tiny silver and gold fish. Beside the noble family mansion is another building nearly as spacious, which is used as a place of amusement. A well-filled conservatory is another beautiful feature, while an observatory, which crowns an imposing brick tower, gives a view of the scenery for miles around.

This estate with large plantations, in Louisiania [sic], were accumulated by the owner, while in the business of slave-driving and negro trading. His name was Franklin. After his death his youthful widow married a gay leader in the fashionable [sic] world, known in the southern society of Memphis and New Orleans, as Joe Achlen. Under his direction the estate was improved and beautified at a cost of $1,000,000, At the commencement of this war, it was had in contemplation by the Confederate officials, to purchase the estate and present it to his Excellency, Jeff. Davis; but they will probably defer making that munificent gift, until the Federal army is at a safer distance.

An intelligent chattel, who has been on the place twenty years, informs us that Achlen was a kind master. That when he visited his plantations in Louisiana, the negroes would welcome him at the wharf, and if it was the least muddy, would take him upon their shoulders and carry him to the house. But despite this fact, the negroes have somehow got the impression that freedom is preferable to slavery. So strongly are they impressed with the desire of owning themselves, that out of 900 who were on the estate and plantations at the commencement of the war, but five remain at the former place, and these with wages of $15.00 per month, while about the same number are at each of the plantations, these kept also by wages.

The death of Achlen occurred last fall; his widow is much of the time in New Orleans, but the property is neatly kept by what was formerly a part of itself.

One of those little incidents, by the by, which proves that truth is stranger than fiction, occurred to this negro who testified to the kindness of his master. When he was purchased for the estate he was separated from his wife, who was sold south. Neither knew the locality of the other, and nineteen long years passed by, when this war, which has made such an upheaval in the strata of American society, loosened the chains of the bondwoman, and true to the instincts of her nature, she started toward the north pole, to find freedom and her husband.

He says it was a joyful time when they met and recognized each other in the streets of Nashville; but we each have the privilege of entertaining our own ideas as to whether the race is capable of constancy and affection.

Even the Capitol has its mounted cannon, to protect it against the citizens of Nashville. During our stay in the city, we have had the pleasure of listening to a lecture by two Rev. Drs. of New York, and Brooklyn, in the Hall of Representatives, and by moonlight. They were to speak on the subject of emancipation and reconstruction, by invitation of Gov. Andrew Johnson, and Comptroller Fowler.

That afternoon, they had returned from the front, toilworn and weary, where they had witnessed the battle and ministered to the wounded of Resaca and Dalton. Upon proceeding to the Capitol, the moon was bathing all things without in her silver radiance, while within hid dark shadows, in strange contrast to an occasional silver shaft, through openings in the heavy damask curtains.

Queries revealed the fact that the Governor, Comptroller, and the man having charge of the gas fixtures, had gone to attend a railroad celebration, not having received word that the gentlemen had accepted the invitation to speak at that time and place.

Quite a number of gentlemen gathered in front of the speaker's desk, with some six ladies the latter provided with seats; and after some consultation we found ourselves listening to interesting recitals of how "war's grim visage" had appeared to Rev. Drs. Thompson and Buddington of New York and Brooklyn.

And we could but think as we sat there in the moonlight, with most of the audience standing, what different audiences they had swayed at home, and how much depends upon time, place and circumstance in the life of a public speaker, and were glad to see that they could meet adverse circumstances with becoming serenity and humility. The novelty connected with the scene, time and place, made it an evening long to be remembered.

The Seminary building was used as hospital, then as barracks and since as soldiers' home.

The faculty of this institution, in their last advertisement of its merits, previous to the arrival of the Union army, assured their patrons that they would

"So educate their daughters, as to fit them to become wives of the Southern Chivalry and to hate the detestable Yankees!"

The Medical College on Broad Street, is now a home and hospital for the refugees; and the filth, destitution, misery and ignorance which exist among that class of poor whites who have fled from starvation in Georgia, North and South Carolina, Alabama or East Tennessee, must be witnessed to be realized. We no longer wondered that the neat, industrious and comparatively well-informed negro servants and free colored people of Nashville look upon them with the contempt so well expressed by the words, "poor white trash!"

Brought up to think labor a disgrace, they will sooner sit down in ignorance, poverty, and the filth which nourishes vermin and loathsome diseases, than disgrace themselves by work. Unaccustomed to habits of neatness and industry they are singularly careless of each other's comfort, and neglectful of their own sick.

The same week of our reaching this city, a family of refugees, nine in number, the parents and seven children, all died, and of no particular disease. The scenes which they had passed through, with the loss of home and each other, with the native lack of energy which led them to succumb to circumstances, rather than battle to overcome them, seemed the only causes.

We will sketch a few of the scenes we saw in this home of the refugees, prefacing, however, that some of the worst features we do not propose giving, either to offend ears polite or our own sense of propriety.

In company with the matron we enter the spacious building between two majestic statues, which stand like sentinels to guard the entrance, less efficient, however, than that "blue coat" who perambulates the walk with rifle and bayonet.

In the first room a gaunt and haggard face meets ours, with piercing eyes, from beneath an old slouched hood, and from a miserable bunk, whose possessor, within the next twenty-four hours, ceases to battle with consumption, and finds that "rest for the weary." She is now so restless she must be turned every few minutes, and stranger hands attend to her wishes. "We were starved out," she says. "The Rebs tuk everything what they didn't destroy; and burnt the house."

"We,' who came with you?"

"Me two step-daughters. But they haven't been here these three days. I reckon they're tired o' takin keer o' me. It's mighty hard though to raise up girls to neglect ye when ye're on a death-bed."

What can we say to comfort her. Our heart grows faint when we think how incapable we are to minister to this one. Bereft of home, penniless, forsaken even by relatives, and in such agonizing unrest. Yes, but a happy thought comes now, if homeless, can she not better appreciate the worth of that "house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens"—if penniless, realize the enduring riches of the better land—husbandless and friendless, know better the worth of that "Friend above all others"—restless, the value of that "rest for the weary?" We tell her of all these, and she professes to gain new strength from our words to wait on the chariot wheels which so long delay their coming.

On another bunk is a wretched woman, who is drowning sorrow as usual in the stupor induced by opium. We have now no message for her.

See that little chubby child, of perhaps three years, whose little flaxen head, has made a pillow of the hard hearthstone, and is soundly sleeping. That is a little waif—nobody owns it. It has neither father, mother, brother, sister or other relative in the wide world that any one knows about. Pity, but some one bereaved by this war would suffer this little one to creep into the heart and home and grow to fill the place made desolate!

Here is a tall, well-formed girl, of perhaps twenty, with a perfect wealth of soft, glossy, auburn hair, of which any city belle would be proud, but it is in wild disorder and just falling from her comb. Ask her, if you choose, what is that eruption with which her hands are covered, and which appears upon her face, and she will as unblushingly and drawlingly tell you, as though your query were a passing remark upon the weather.

Here are three other girls sitting upon a rough board bench—the eldest, a bright girl of about twelve, is making an apron for her sister. Do you wish to hear her story?—if so, listen.

"Me an' me mother an' me two sisters come from East Tennessee. The Union army come to our place first, an' they burned an' destroyed a great deal what they didn't take away, and after they left the Rebs come an' did the same, an' so between 'em both they left us all starvin' through the country. Then the Unioners come agin, and we followed 'em, an' they sent us here. While we were on the boat it was powerful open an' cold-like, an' me mother tuk cold. An' she looked like she was struck with death from the very first, an' the doctor told me I might just as well make up my mind to it, first as last, an' make her as comfortable as I could. So I tukkeer o' her, day an' night for two weeks, an' brought her every thing she wanted, oranges an' sich like, till she died. I thought when my father an' other relatives died that I tuk it powerful hard, but 'twas nothin' like losin' me mother. While she was sick me two little sisters had been livin' with a cousin o' mine; but I hearn tell he was treaten 'em mighty bad, so I wrote a note to the captin an' told him I wanted to come here and see to the keer on 'em myself. An' he said I might, so I comed yesterday."

We leave this room for another. There a sick boy of fourteen is lying on a bed of rags, who is recovering from measles. Hear his history.

"We lived in East Tennessee, an' my father nigh onto the first o'the war, wanted to get to Kaintucky and jine the Yankees, but the Rebels tuk him off to Vicksburg and made him jine them. Then when the place surrendered to the Yanks, about half on 'em jined them, an' my father 'mong the rest, jest what he'd been wantin' to, for a long time.

But they burned and starved us all out to home, an' we left thar an' come har whar we could git suthin' to eat. Me an me mother an' me little brother what's only six year old come. But me mother was tuk sick an' died here three week ago. I hearn right after, that my father's regiment was ordered some whar else, an' I don't know whar he is. She knew what company an' regiment me father was in, but I was sick when he sent word about it, an' he don't know whar we air. Mother nor he could'nt write, so we've no letters nor nothin' to tell. May be he's dead, an' we'll never hear of it, or if he lives he'll never find us."

It is a sad case, but we comfort him with the hope of what perseverance and a little knowledge of writing may do for him, and pass to another.

Here is a young man, dressed and lying upon the outside of his bed, whose foot and ancle are encased in a wooden box. His temperament partakes largely of the nervous sanguine. He has an open, frank, intelligent countenance, speaks rapidly, and with a short, joyous, electrical laugh.

"I was raised in North Carolina," he says. "I was'nta Union man at the first-nor a Confederate either, well about half an' half, I reckon. But we'se all obliged either to run away from our families an' leave 'em to starve, or hide with 'em in the mountains or jine the army. So I concluded to jine; an' I've been in Braggs army mor'n two years."

"Why did you leave it," we asked.

"Well the fact was I begun to think sure we was in the wrong, else we'd fared better'n we did. For I've allays allowed the Lord would prosper the right ride. So when I found that I had to march or fight hard all day, an' have nothin' more to eat for the hull twenty-four hours, than a piece o'bread the bigness o'my hand, an' a piece o'meat only as large as my two fingers-an' have been so hungry for weeks that I could nearly eat my own fingers off, I concluded to desert and try the other side.

My brother-in-law left Lee's army about the same time I left Bragg's. I was to meet him and my wife, at his house in Athens; but when I was coming on the train from Charleston, I saw another train coming that ran into ours, and I jumped off and broke my limb. So I could'nt go there, and they brought me on to this place.

I've enough to eat, and have good care, and should feel right well contented till I get well, if I only could know where my wife Martha is. I've sent two letters, but I can't hear a word. I've got a letter written to my brother-inlaw about her now-its lying there."

And he points to a rough board. one end of which rests upon his bunk, and the other upon an empty one near, and which serves him in place of a stand.

"Its been waitin' a long time" he adds, for I hav'nt a postage stamp on it. We were just married when the war begun, an' we had a fine start for young folks, but I let my gold and silver go in gittin' settled, and the Confederate money's worth nothin' here, so I hav'nt a penny to use."

The letter was put in the office, and he was supplied with stationary and stamps during our stay. He wished more added to his letter and we wrote what he dictated.

"It's the first time I ever had anybody write for me," he said proudly. "I generally do my own writin',—an' readin' too," and he glanced toward some books he had.

"An' you may be sure," he added as we left him, "if I get well, an' my wife Martha is lost, but I'll spend the rest o' my life huntin' but I'll find her!"

SOURCES: Elvira J. Powers, Hospital Pencillings: Being a Diary While in Jefferson General Hospital, Jeffersonville, Ind., and Others at Nashville, Tennessee, as Matron and Visitor, pp. 26-41; For the poem “Mustered Out,” written by Rev. William E. Miller, see Frank Moore, Editor, The Rebellion Record: A Diary of American Events, with Documents, Narratives, Illustrative Incidents, Poetry, Etc., Vol. 7 p. 92.