About this time the famous “Peace Conference” had been concluded by the issue of Mr. Lincoln’s celebrated letter, “To whom it may concern,” and William Cornell Jewett (with his head full of projects for restoring peace to a suffering country) heard about the mysterious photographer, and visited the operator.
“Sir,” said he, “I must consult with the spirits of distinguished statesmen. We need their counsel. This cruel war must stop. Brethren slaying brethren, it is horrible, Sir. Can you show me John Adams? Can you show me Daniel Webster? Let me look upon the features of Andrew Jackson. I must see that noble, glorious, wise old statesman, Henry Clay, whom I knew. Could you reproduce Stephen A. Douglas, with whom to counsel at this crisis in our national affairs! I should like to meet the great Napoleon. Such, here obtained, would increase my influence in the political work that I have in hand.”
In his own nervous, impetuous, excited way, Colorado Jewett continued to urge upon the photographer the great importance of receiving such communications, or some evidence that the spirits of our deceased statesmen were watching over and counseling those who desire to re-unite the two opposing forces, fighting against each other on the soil of a common country.
With much caution, the photographer answered the questions presented. Arranging the camera, he produced some indistinct figures, and then concluded that the “conditions” were not sufficiently favorable to attempt anything more before the next day. On the following morning, Jewett appeared—nervous, garrulous,
