As the crowd swayed to and fro, a universal shout was raised for Mr. Clay to speak; he uttered a sentence or two, waved his hand in adieu, and escaped amidst the prevailing confusion.  Prentiss meanwhile was at a side window, evidently unconscious of being himself noticed, gazing upon what was passing with all the delight of the humblest spectator.  Suddenly his name was announced.  He attempted to withdraw from public gaze, but his friends pushed him forward.  Again his name was shouted, hats and caps were thrown in the air, and he was finally compelled to show himself on the portico.  With remarkable delicacy, he chose a less prominent place than that previously occupied by Mr. Clay, although perfectly visible.  He thanked his friends for their kindness by repeated bows, and by such smiles as he alone could give.  “A speech!  A speech!” thundered a thousand voices.  Prentiss lifted his hand; in an instant everything was still—­then pointing to the group that surrounded Mr. Clay, he said, “Fellow-citizens, when the eagle is soaring in the sky, the owls and the bats retire to their holes.”  And long before the shout that followed this remark had ceased, Prentiss had disappeared amid the multitude.

But the most extraordinary exhibition of Prentiss’ powers of mind and endurance of body, was shown while he was running for Congress.  He had the whole State to canvass, and the magnitude of the work was just what he desired.  From what I have learned from anecdotes, that canvass must have presented some scenes combining the highest mental and physical exertion that was ever witnessed in the world.  Prentiss was in perfect health, and in the first blush of success, and it cannot be doubted but that his best efforts of oratory were then made, and now live recorded only in the fading memories of his hearers.  An incident illustrative of the time is remembered, that may hear repeating.

The whole state of Mississippi was alive with excitement; for the moment, she felt that her sovereign dignity had been trifled with, and that her reputation demanded the return of Prentiss to Congress.  Crowds followed him from place to place, making a gala time of weeks together.  Among the shrewd worldlings who take advantage of such times “to coin money,” was the proprietor of a traveling menagerie, and he soon found out that the multitude followed Prentiss.  Getting the list of that remarkable man’s “appointments,” he filled up his own, and it was soon noticed as a remarkable coincidence, that the orator always “arrived along with the other ‘lions.’” The reason of this meeting was discovered, and the “boys” decided that Prentiss should “next time” speak from the top of the lion’s cage.  Never was the menagerie more crowded.  At the proper time, the candidate gratified his constituents, and mounted his singular rostrum.  I was told by a person, who professed to be an eye witness, that the whole affair presented a singular mixture of the terrible and the comical.  Prentiss was, as usual, eloquent,