and covered by a
gray hospital towel sogged with the liquids. The man of fastidious taste
glanced at the platter and saw that the good doctor's wife had added
oysters to his menu that day and ate one. His vitality was so low even
this gave him intense pain.

He was not bitter, but expressed his quiet contempt for the systematic
petty insults which his jailer was now heaping on him daily. His
physician had demanded that he take exercise in the open air. Miles
always walked with him and never permitted an occasion of this kind to
pass without directing at his helpless prisoner personal insults so
offensive that Davis always cut his walks short to be rid of his
tormentor. On one occasion the general was so brutal in his conversation
after he had locked his prisoner in his room that he suddenly sprang at
the bars, grasped them with his trembling, skeleton hands and cried:

"But for these you should answer to me--here and now!"

A favorite pastime of his jailer was to admit crowds of vulgar
sightseers and permit them to gaze at his prisoner.

A woman inquired of Frederick, who was on his way to his room:

"Where's Jeff?"

The negro bowed gravely and drew his stalwart figure erect:

"I am sorry, madame, not to be able to tell you. I do not know any such
person."

"Yes, you do--aren't you his servant?"

"No, madame, you are mistaken. I have the honor to serve ex-President
Davis."

Only a great soul can command the love and respect of servants as did
this quiet grave statesman of the old regime.

Never during the long hours of these weeks and months of torture did he
lose his dignity or his lofty bearing quail before his tormentor. He was
too refined and dignified to be abusive, and too proud in General Miles'
delicate phraseology to "beg."

The loving wife began now her desperate fight to nurse him back into
life again.

The new Commandant of the fort, General Burton, who replaced Miles,
proved himself a gentleman and a soldier of the old school. He
immediately gave to the prisoner every courtesy possible and to his wife
sympathy and help.

The Bishop of Montreal sent him a case of green chartreuse from his own
stores. This powerful digestive stimulant helped his feeble appetite to
take the nourishment needed to sustain life and slowly build his
strength.

He could sleep only when read to, and many a day dawned on the worn
figure of his wife still droning her voice into his sensitive ears, with
one hand on