Five of the present Cabinet, with Secretary Cameron at their head, have expressed themselves fairly and fully in favor of Emancipation,—foreseeing its inevitable realization, and, we presume, the necessity of 'managing' it betimes. Only Messrs. Seward and Bates hang timidly behind, waiting for stronger manifestations, ere they hang out their flags. Meanwhile, from the rural districts of the East and West come thousand-fold indications that the great 'working majority' of Northern freemen—the same who elected Lincoln and urged on the war in thunder-tones and lightning acts—are sternly determined to press the great measure, and purify this country for once and forever of its great bitterness. It is a foregone conclusion.
'If you would know what your neighbors think of you,' says an old proverb, 'quarrel with them.' It has not been necessary of late to quarrel with England to ascertain her opinion of us, as expressed by her editors, writers, and men of the highest standing. Our war with the South has brought it out abundantly, and the result is a great dislike of everything American, save cotton! We are not of those who would at this time say too much on the subject,—every expression of Anglophobia is just now nuts to the C. S. A., who would dearly relish a war between us and the mother country,—but we may point to the significant fact recently laid in a laconic letter by 'Railway Train,' that while everything is done in England to preserve a 'strict neutrality,' as regards the North, and while the most vexatious hinderances are placed in the way of exporting aught which may aid us,—much gratuitous pains being taken to prevent any material aid to the Federal government,—vessels are allowed to load openly with all contraband of war, even to arms and ammunition, for the avowed purpose of supplying the South. This is not mere rumor—it has been amply confirmed for months.
Very well, gentlemen; very well, indeed. We may remember all your kindness and the depth of your zealous abolition philanthropy. 'Haud immemor.' But you are reasoning on false grounds. You forget that it is almost as important for you to self your manufactures to America as to get cotton from it. And articles in the Times, and speeches from your first statesmen, show that you really believe the enormous fib so generally current, that the South consumes the very great majority of all our imports. 'The South is where the North makes all its money—the South does everything.'
Do not believe it. The entire South consumes only about one sixth or seventh of all Imports, and contributes no greater proportion to the wealth of the North. But the North, with a very little sacrifice, can free itself almost entirely from dependence on your manufactures, and if, in homely parlance, you 'give us any more of your impudence,' she will—will most decidedly. There is even a stronger king than Cotton here; we may call him King Market. Let King Market once lay hands on you, and whereas you were before only broken, then you will be ground to powder.
Over many a home since the last New Year, Death has cast the shadow, which may grow dimmer with time, or change to other hues, but which never entirely departs. But now he comes with strange, unwonted form, for he comes from the battle-field as well as the far-off home of fever, or the icy lair of consumption, and those left behind know only of the departed that he died for honor.
'My brother! oh, my brother!' Such a cry arose not long ago in a family, for one of the best and bravest whom this country has ever known. And more than one has brought back from the war a sorrowful narrative of a long farewell inclosed in as brief and touching words as those of the following lyric:—