Stephen H. Branch, in his Cell at Blackwell’s Island—A Mournful Scene.

A lovely Family, at the iron door, peeping through its small perforations.

The Father.—What is your name, sir?

Stephen.—My name is Branch.

Father.—For what are you confined?

Stephen.—For an alleged libel.

Father.—On whom?

Stephen.—On Mayor Daniel F. Tiemann, Simeon Draper, and Isaac Bell, Jr.

Father.—What is the period of your imprisonment?

Stephen.—One year. I think I have seen you before. What is your name, sir?

Father.—H——d.

Stephen.—Where do you reside?

Father.—In Charleston, South Carolina.

Stephen.—Ah! The dearest associations of my life are connected with two students bearing your name, who were from Charleston.

Father.—My wife and children: I think the keeper has directed us to the Lunatic Asylum, instead of the abode of convicts. Let us go and ask the keeper to show us to the prison.

Stephen.—Stop, sir. I now most positively discern the relics of your early features. Were you a student at Cambridge in 1835?

Father.—I was.

Stephen.—And your brother also, who was rescued from a watery grave in Boston Harbor?

Father (leans against the iron door, and his frame trembles, and his face assumes a deathly palor).—God of Heaven! And are you the son of Judge Stephen Branch, of Providence, Rhode Island?

Stephen.—I am, sir.

Father (wiping sweat from his forehead and tears from his cheeks).—Dear Stephen: Give me your hand, after our long separation. Alas! my poor brother is dead, whose life you saved in that dreadful squall, in Boston Harbor, twenty-three years ago. (All weep, and his eldest daughter sobs aloud.)

Stephen.—Where and when did your noble brother die?

Father.—In Switzerland, ten years since; and in his last days he spoke most kindly of you.

His Wife (in profuse tears).—Have you a wife, Mr. Branch?

Stephen.—Neither wife, nor child, nor parents, nor hardly a relative on earth. And I am glad they have gone down to their happy graves. And I almost wish that I was reposing by their side. The earth is no place for me, nor for those who expose the licentious officials and plundering monsters of this age, who allure spotless females into the horrors of prostitution, and drive the friendless masses into cellars and attics and crowded and pestilential habitations, and into the inclement atmosphere.

Wife.—But why rejoice over the eternal departure of nearly all your kindred?

Stephen.—Because it would have blighted their health and fondest hopes to have beheld me in a felon’s dungeon.

Wife.—But you have committed no crime?

Stephen.—I could not do that. And I am in prison, because I have exposed the crimes, and resisted the gilded bribes of official plunderers for a dozen years, and utterly refused to join them in their various deeds of infamy. I could have been affluent, and had my liberty, if I had joined the public thieves, and shared their plunder. And if my parents were alive, although they would rejoice at my exposure of vicious public men, yet they would weep over the cruelty of those who consigned me to this dungeon, without an honorable trial, and rudely thrust me into the chain-gang of the quarries, and even yearn for my life.

Wife.—Yours seems a hard fate?

Stephen.—Yes; mine is indeed a mournful destiny.

Her Eldest Daughter (whose lovely eyes gleam with tears).—I weep over your misfortunes. I have often heard my dear uncle, whose life you saved at the peril of your own, speak of you in tones of deep affection, and here is a diamond breastpin he gave me in Switzerland, on the Lake of Geneva, on a tranquil moonlight evening, only ten days before his soul’s departure for the spirit realms. Take it, dear Mr. Branch, and keep it in remembrance of his affectionate niece. To no other being would I present a sacred gift of my departed uncle.

Stephen (with overwhelming emotion).—Please accept my profoundest gratitude for your precious donation, which I will wear near a heart that dearly loved your departed uncle, with whom I passed some of the happiest hours of my life.

The Youngest Daughter (who is about ten years old).—Dear Mr. Branch: Will you take this sweet rose from me, and let me kiss you through the grate?

Stephen.—O God! This is too much for my poor nerves. (I shed copious tears, and all weep.) Yes, my pretty little girl, you can kiss me through the grate. (And her father holds her up, and I place my pale, and cold, and haggard cheek to a perforation of my cell door, and this affectionate little girl imprints a fervent kiss, which I cordially reciprocate.)

Father.—God has blessed me with great prosperity, and I will devote my fortune to your restoration to liberty.

Stephen.—Mr. Ashmead, my able and faithful Counsel, assures me that I will soon emerge from prison, through the Supreme Judiciary. I most sincerely thank you for your extraordinary generosity, and for the visit of yourself and wife, and daughters, whom I will cherish all my days.

Father.—When you obtain your liberty, you must come to Charleston, where you will be received with our warmest hospitality.

Wife.—If you come, you shall never leave us.

Eldest Daughter.—You shall have the vacant seat of my uncle at our table.

4Youngest Daughter.—Yes; and I will kiss you again—won’t I mother?—when you come to Charleston.

Mother.—Yes, my dear child; and you shall give him the sweetest rose in our garden.

Youngest Daughter.—That I will, and pretty flowers, too.

Father.—Good by, Mr. Branch. (Strives to get his hand through the perforated door, but can clasp my fingers with but two of his.) Good by, sir—good by.

Wife.—Good by, Mr. Branch. I hope you will be restored to freedom.

Eldest Daughter.—Good by, Mr. Branch. I shall think of you with kindness, after I am gone, and I shall yearn to see you at our home in Carolina.

Youngest Daughter.—Good by, dear Mr. Branch, and I want you to give me another kiss before I go. (I kiss her, and receive many in return.) Good by, and you must not forget to come to Charleston, when these bad men let you out of prison. Good by, dear Mr. Branch, and I hope you will not be lonely and cry much after we have gone far away from you. Good by, Mr. Branch.

Stephen.—Farewell, kind friends, and may God ever bless you for your noble sympathy. (All go, and I prostrate myself on my cot, and am in prayers and tears long after their mournful departure.)

I cut these lines from a newspaper when I was a boy. I think they bore the Christian name of a lady. I am no poet, and do not know their merit. Perhaps Bryant or Prentrice can discern their beauties. Let pure and pensive and wild enthusiasts scan them for congenial spirits, and I think they will preserve these curious meditations which have been in my scrap-book since I was a pale youth, with my classic satchel, in the schools of Rhode Island. Those editors who copy these lines must not credit them to Stephen H. Branch, but they should say that they came from the jaws of his Alligator, as their author is unknown, and as that Animal introduces them to the public for the first time in thirty years:

MIDNIGHT MEDITATIONS.

Earth lies dumb before me, and the shadows

Of midnight cast their dim forms athwart it.

Quiet is brooding o’er a silent world,

And the soft hush of slumber seals each lid.

Night is too fair for sleep: with me thought wakes

And treads in distant paths, where human step

Ne’er left an echo on the vacant air.

The gorgeous canopy of heaven is wrapped

In silvery haze: Gems of uncounted wealth

Bestud the lofty concave; and the bright

Moon seems rolling like a silvery ball

Across the trackless æther, mantling the earth

In glory;—while her mellowed light

Falls on my spirit with a holy calm, like that

Of heaven. Tell us—why are we chained to earth?

’Tis far too gross for the immortal mind,

Which yearns for higher realms, and pants in vain

For the full measure of perfection. Oh!

I have gazed upon night’s starry volume,

Till I have read long lessons of delight,

And drank the raptures of another world.

Thought, living thought, burns to embrace the whole

Of those deep mysteries eternity

Conceals from mortal understanding; and

The mind speaks out, and questions every beam

Which falls from the bright reservoir of heaven—

Interrogates each plant and breathing thing—

Retires within itself, and calls up every

Faculty—sends powerful fancy forth to

Search through untrod regions, but spends its pow’rs

Unsatisfied, till it sinks down at last

Exhausted by its own intensity.

O for a walk among those stars of light,

Where grandeur fills immensity! I long

To fling my soul upon the pinions of

Eternity, and revel in the blaze

Of glory unrevealed—to gaze upon

The light that emanates from God’s vast throne,

And hear the music of the rolling spheres

As they revolve in mystic circles round

The deep centre of unknown attraction.

Spirits of heaven are hov’ring round me,

And breathe sweet songs of rapture in my ear.

The rustle of their wings is like the sigh

Of leaves, when the soft zephyr moves among

Their quiv’ring branches. Their hallowed voices

Wake the eternity within me, and warm

Aspirations rise from my heart’s altar

To the great throne of Uncreated Power,

The wings of seraphim seem wafting me

In thought far through the bright and boundless ether.

O for the freedom of unbodied life!

To rove where thought ne’er ventured—where fancy

Halts, her swift wing wearied in its lofty flight.

I gaze upon the stars, and drink the full

Glory of the midnight heavens—and breathe

The breath of spiritual existence

Till my soul beats, like a captive bird,

Against its prison grates, and longs to soar away, and mix

With immortality.

Are not the stars

Immortal? Do they not live forever

In a joy of light? Have they not looked down

From age to age upon this distant world

And watched its evolutions? Viewed its face

Change beneath the whelming flood—its cities

Sink beneath the earthquake’s shock—its mountains

Belch destruction—its boasted empires fall—

Its armies crushed in battle—its proud kings

Fade from earth—its ancient monumental

Grandeur crumble into dust? Yet they roll on,

Creatures of life, a beaming essence,

A mysterious throng of heavenly

Pageantry. But is there not a region

Far above that envious height; above

The stars; where beings live forever, and

No darkness comes; where light exists for ages,

Unborrowed from the sun; where storms dim not

Its brightness? and where rapture never dies?

Yes, far above the sky-bound ceiling, there

Is light—eternal light—joy unsubdued,

And everlasting life!

Is there such a

Thing as sin? I feel it not. This is a

Holy hour. Nothing exists to me but

Heaven, and heaven’s pure habitants; all worldly

Thoughts are drowned in high communing. Is there

Such a thing as pain? I know it not, who

Oft have known it. Heaven’s high-wrought happiness

Is mine. This is a peaceful hour, and I

Could deem myself already entered on

Immortal ground, did not this clog of clay

Assure me I am yet of earth, and have,

Perchance, long years of pain, and wo, and sin

To witness, and the dark vale of death is

Yet unpassed by me, though ever near. Well,

If it must be so, welcome the hour that

Breaks these mortal shackles, and lets loose my

Spirit on the wings of life, to find its

Native element and long sought home, if

Heaven at last be mine. Congenial spirits

Of unknown existence! would that your forms

Could be perceived by mortal eyes, that I

Might hold sweet converse with you, and forget

That I am mortal.

Oh! there is that

Within, which tells me I was destined for

A higher sphere; that heaven was made for me;

For all—if we accept the gift, and mount

Faith’s ladder, as the word of life directs

This life is not our destiny; ’tis but

A prelude to a state eternal, a

Mere beginning of existence, when once

Begun, that ne’er shall cease to be. Life! Life!

What art thou now—what art thou doomed to be?

A shade; a substance; dream; reality;

A blessing or a curse; a moment here;

Hereafter an eternity! Dread thought,

Eternity! Eternity! My soul

Is lost in that vast subject, and I shrink

Appalled from the unmeasured time to come.

No more I ask to know its hidden space;

’Twill soon unfold to me, and I shall dwell

Forever in its changeless realm; no more

To feel emotions known on earth, or think

As now I think, or live as now I live;

’Till then, “the mysteries of fate are hid,”

And all lie buried in a world to come.

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THE LIFE, TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF FERDINAND DE SOTO, DISCOVERER OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 1 vol., 556 pages octavo 30 superb Steel and Wood Engravings, Printed on fine paper and bound elegantly. One of these superb Steel Plates is photographed of the $10,000 painting ordered by Congress, worth the price of the book.

This book is indispensable to every library. Pronounced by The New York Herald to be “the most interesting book in the English language.” 10,000 Agents wanted to canvass for this work, to whom we will give a district not already taken.

Sent by mail free of postage on receipt of the money. Postmasters are allowed 30 per cent on all subscribers they send us—Address

JAMES T. LLOYD, Publisher, Philadelphia, Penn.

FALL ELECTION.

State of New-York, }

Office of the Secretary of State, }

Albany, August 2, 1858. }

To the Sheriff of the County of New York:

SIR—NOTICE IS HEREBY GIVEN, THAT AT THE GENERAL Election to be held in this State on the Tuesday succeeding the first Monday in November next, the following officers are to be elected, to wit:

A Governor, in the place of John A. King;

A Lieutenant Governor, in the place of Henry R. Selden;

A Canal Commissioner, in the place of Samuel B. Ruggles, appointed in place of Samuel S. Whallon, deceased;

An Inspector of State Prisons, in the place of William A. Russell;

All whose terms of office will expire on the last day of December next.

A Representative in the Thirty-sixth Congress of the United States, for the Third Congressional District, composed of the First, Second, Third, Fifth and Eighth Wards in the city of New York;

A Representative in the Thirty-sixth Congress of the United States, for the Fourth Congressional District, composed of the Fourth, Sixth, Tenth and Fourteenth Wards in the city of New York;

A Representative in the Thirty-sixth Congress of the United States, for the Fifth Congressional District, composed of the Seventh and Thirteenth Wards of the city of New York, and the Thirteenth, Fourteenth, Fifteenth and Sixteenth Wards of Brooklyn;

A Representative in the Thirty-sixth Congress of the United States, for the Sixth Congressional District, composed of the Eleventh, Fifteenth and Seventeenth Wards in the City of New York;

A Representative in the Thirty-sixth Congress of the United States, for the Seventh Congressional District, composed of the Ninth, Sixteenth, and Twentieth Wards in the City of New York;

And also, a Representative in the Thirty-sixth Congress of the United States for the Eighth Congressional District, composed of the Twelfth, Eighteenth, Nineteenth, Twenty-first, and Twenty-second Wards in the City of New York.

COUNTY OFFICERS ALSO TO BE ELECTED FOR SAID COUNTY.

Seventeen Members of Assembly;

A Sheriff, in the place of James C. Willett;

A County Clerk, in the place of Richard B. Connolly;

Four Coroners, in the place of Frederick W. Perry, Edward Connery, Robert Gamble and Samuel C. Hills;

All whose terms of office will expire on the last day of December next.

The attention of Inspectors of Election and County Canvassers is directed to Chapter 320 of Laws of 1858, a copy of which is printed, for instructions in regard to their duties under said law, “submitting the question of calling a Convention to revise the Constitution and amend the same to the people of the State.”

Chap. 320.

AN ACT to submit the question of calling a Convention to revise the Constitution and amend the same, to the People of the State:

Passed April 17, 1858—three-fifths being present.

The People of the State of New York, represented in Senate and Assembly, do enact as follows:

Section 1. The Inspectors of Election in each town, ward, and election district in this State, at the annual election to be held in November next, shall provide a proper box to receive the ballots of the citizens of this State entitled to vote for members of the Legislature at such election. On such ballot shall be written or printed, or partly written and printed, by those voters who are in favor of a Convention, the words: “Shall there be a Convention to Revise the Constitution and amend the same? Yes.” And by those voters who are opposed thereto, the words: “Shall there be a Convention to Revise the Constitution and amend the same? No.” And all citizens entitled to vote as aforesaid shall be allowed to vote by ballot as aforesaid, in the election district in which he resides, and not elsewhere.

§2. So much of the articles one, two and three, of title four, of chapter one hundred and thirty, of an act entitled “An act respecting elections other than for militia and town officer,” passed April fifth, eighteen hundred and forty-two, and the acts amending the same, as regulates the manner of conducting elections and challenges oaths to be administered, and inquiries to be made, of persons offering to vote, shall be deemed applicable to the votes to be given or offered under the act; and the manner of voting and challenges, and the penalties for false swearing, prescribed by law, are hereby declared in full force and effect in voting or offering to vote under this act.

§3. The said votes given for and against a convention, in pursuance of this act, shall be canvassed by the Inspectors of the several election districts or polls of the said election in the manner prescribed by law, and as provided in article four, of title four, of chapter one hundred and thirty of the said act, passed April fifth, eighteen hundred and forty-two, and the acts amending the same, as far as the same are applicable; and such canvass shall be completed by ascertaining the whole number of votes given in each election district or poll for a convention, and the whole number of votes given against such convention, in the form aforesaid; and the result being found, the inspectors shall make a statement in words, at full length, of the number of ballots received in relation to such convention, and shall also state in words, at full length, the whole number of ballots having thereon the words, “Shall there be a Convention to revise the Constitution and amend the same? No.” Such statements as aforesaid shall contain a caption, stating the day on which, and the number of the district, the town or ward, and the county at which the election was held, and at the end thereof a certificate that such statement is correct in all respects, which certificate shall be subscribed by all the inspectors, and a true copy of such statement shall be immediately filed by them in the office of the clerk of the town or city.

§4. The original statements, duly certified as aforesaid, shall be delivered by the inspectors, or one of them to be deputed for that purpose, to the supervisor, or, in case there be no supervisor, or he shall be disabled from attending the board of canvassers, then to one of the assessors of the town or ward, within twenty-four hours after the same shall have been subscribed by such inspectors, to be disposed of as other statements at such election, are now required by law.

§5. So much of articles first, second, third, and fourth, of title fifth, of chapter one hundred and thirty, of the act entitled, “An act respecting elections other than for militia and town officers,” and the acts amending the same, as regulates the duties of County Canvassers and their proceedings, and the duty of County Clerks, and the Secretary of State, and the Board of State Canvassers, shall be applied to the canvassing and ascertaining the will of the people of this State in relation to the proposed convention; and if it shall appear that a majority of the votes or ballots given in and returned as aforesaid are against a convention, then the said canvassers are required to certify and declare that fact by a certificate, subscribed by them, and filed with the Secretary of State; but if it shall appear by the said canvass that a majority of the ballots or votes given as aforesaid are for a convention, then they shall by like certificates, to be filed as aforesaid, declare that fact; and the said Secretary shall communicate a copy of such certificate to both branches of the Legislature, at the opening of the next session thereof. Yours, respectfully,

GIDEON J. TUCKER, Secretary of State.

Sheriff’s Office, }

New York, August 4, 1858. }

The above is published pursuant to the notice of the Secretary of State, and the requirements of the Statute in such case made and provided.