The writer of this sketch was never more profoundly impressed than when,
on two occasions, he was summoned, at half past twelve and two o'clock
in the morning to the Executive Chamber as a witness. The room was of
the plainest, even rudest, appearance. A semi-circular table was
liberally supplied with stationary, and around it sat gravely, with
faces paled by long continued vigils, anxious thought and awful
responsibility a few individuals, some of whom he recognized, and knew
to be quiet, humane, order-loving men. On a raised platform sat the
President, and in front of him the Secretary. These few grave men, seen
at so late an hour, by dim candle lights, the leaders of an armed
insurrection, usurpers of all power, rule and supremacy in a City of at
least sixty thousand inhabitants; whose commands thousands of their
armed fellow citizens obeyed implicitly; who, in disregard of all law,
arrested, imprisoned, tried and executed offenders; but whose power,
boundless and undisputed as it seemed, rested solely on the conviction
of their fellow men that they were just, wise, patriotic and true; would
faithfully administer the despotic power of which they were the
depositaries; and cheerfully resign it whenever the work of the
regeneration of society was accomplished.
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