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[450] humor, and almost unrivalled eloquence of conversation, soon bring back the Confederate President—the indomitable leader, the unflinching patriot, the high-toned, Christian gentleman, whom true Confederates will ever delight to honor.

Seventy-eight years of an eventful life are upon him, his health is not strong, and his physical powers begin to weaken, but his intellect is as clear as ever, and his heart as warm as ever for the land he has loved so well, and for which he has toiled, and suffered, and sacrificed so much.

I shall not be guilty of betraying to the public the confidence of private conversation, as at this and subsequent interviews, at his own home, he spoke freely of men and events and measures from that full knowledge and intimate acquaintance, and in that perfectly charming manner which make his lightest utterances of unspeakable value.

But there are some things of which I may, without impropriety, write, and which I know will be of deep interest to our people.

Mr. Davis loves to talk of his home, the Gulf coast of Mississippi and its advantages, his pictures, his books, questions in English literature, science, the arts, etc., in all of which he is perfectly at home and talks charmingly; his cadet life at West Point and the men he knew there, who were afterwards famous; the Mexican war and his services, of which he speaks very modestly, but the brilliancy of which all the world knows; his services in the United States Senate and as Secretary of War, and the men with whom he came in contact while serving in these high positions; his travels abroad, etc., etc.

But he seems to delight especially to talk of the Confederacy; its splendid rise, its heroic struggle, its sad fall, when ‘compelled to yield to overwhelming numbers and resources.’ He seemed thoroughly familiar with the minutest details of all the Departments of the Government. He gave some very interesting details of experiments made while he was Secretary of War, on the question of whether to cast guns hollow or to bore them out from solid castings, and spoke of the laudable pride with which Rodman sought him when he had prepared some cannon-powder, and exclaimed, ‘Eureka, eureka!’

He gave a very interesting account of some experiments made by Professor Bartlett, of West Point, under his direction, on the proper size and shape of bullets. The experiments failed, but last year at Beauvoir he got to thinking over it, and thought that he discovered the cause of the failure.

He at once wrote to Professor Bartlett, giving him his theory, but


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