Of the Grand Jury that indicted Brown and the Petit Jury that tried and condemned him there is but one survivor, as far as the writer knows, Mr. Martin, now of Virginia. Judge Parker, who presided at the trial, and the lawyers--Hunter and Harding--who prosecuted, have all "crossed the bar" as have, probably, the strangers who defended. The sheriff--Cambell--who officiated at the execution, and all his deputies, have passed away. Lee and Stuart are dead, and it is believed that of all who figured prominently in this remarkable tragedy the juror above referred to is the only survivor, with the exceptions before named and possibly that of Lieutenant Greene of the marines; but John Brown's fame is on the increase and time enhances it, call him what you will. It is remarkable that the gentlemen who were Brown's prisoners displayed little or no vindictiveness towards the man who had subjected them to so much danger. The writer frequently noticed in conversation with them that they invariably dwelt on his extraordinary courage and that the animosity, which it was natural they should feel on account of his treatment of them, was lost in their admiration for his daring, though misguided bravery. Mr. Donohoo visited him in prison and, very much to his credit, exhibited towards his fallen foe a generosity characteristic of the man himself and the gallant nation of his birth. The story of the Brown raid should not close without notice of another party who figured rather curiously in that memorable transaction. At that time there lived at Harper's Ferry a half-witted fellow, named John Malloy, who managed to gain a precarious living by getting scraps of broken bread and meat from the kitchens of the people, in return for services rendered in carrying water from the town pump and the river. He was never known to sleep in a house--a door step answering all the purposes of a bed, and a store box being regarded by him as a positive luxury. When drunk--which was as often as he could get whiskey enough--he had a particular fancy for a sleep on the railroad track and, in consequence, he was run over several times by the trains, but it appeared as if nothing could kill him. On one occasion the point of a "cow catcher" entered his neck and he was pushed by the engine a considerable distance. Even this did not terminate his charmed life, but several ugly scars remained as mementos of the adventure. Like others, he was taken prisoner by Brown and confined in the armory yard. About 3 o'clock in the afternoon of Monday when the alarm had spread a long way and people had crowded in from the surrounding country, armed with every species of weapon they could lay hands on, John managed to escape by climbing the armory wall. When he was seen getting over, the country people to whom he was unknown supposed that he was one of Brown's men, and score of them blazed away at him with their guns. A shower of bullets whistled 'round him and his clothes, never in the best of