_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. _Youngest 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.