That stirred up the bile of his stomach. "Sir," said he to the officer, looking him full in the eye, "I will be here till I die with old age, or till I rot in prison, before I will take the oath of allegiance to the Southern Confederacy. You have no Government. I deny that you are authorized to administer such an oath. You have organized a big Southern mob--not a Government. You have never been recognized by any civilized Government on the face of God Almighty's earth, and you never will be. And yet you are here asking me to take the oath of allegiance to the vilest mob that was ever organized South of Mason and Dixon's line. Not wishing to be profane, nor desiring to be regarded by you in that light, permit me to conclude my remarks by saying that I will see your Southern Confederacy in the infernal regions, and you high on top of it before I will take the oath." The officer remarked that that was d--d plain talk. Mr. Brownlow replied that it was the right way to make men understand each other. The General turned upon his heel, tipped his duck-bill cap and walked off. [Applause.] When the speaker entered the jail he found among the inmates three Baptist preachers. One of them, a Mr. Pope, 77 years of age, was charged with having prayed to the Lord to bless the President of the United States, to bless the General Government, and put an end to this unholy war. Another old man--a minister--70 years of age, was thrust into jail for having thrown up his hat and hurrahed for the stars and stripes when a company of Union Home Guards marched by his house with the stars and stripes flying over them. The third, a young man, was confined for having volunteered as chaplain in a Union regiment. The sufferings of the inmates of the jail the speaker described as horrible. The food they were supplied with was rank and unwholesome. He, himself, got permission to receive meals from his family, otherwise he should not have been able to live through his long confinement.