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.
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