THE

Our national finances are involved in extreme peril. Our public debt exceeds $720,000,000, and is estimated by the Secretary of the Treasury, on the 1st of July next, at $1,122,297,403, and on the 1st of July, 1864, at $1,744,685,586. When we reflect that this is nearly one half the debt of England, and bearing almost double the rate of interest, it is clear that we are approaching a fatal catastrophe. Nor is this the most alarming symptom. Gold now commands a premium of thirty-two per cent., as compared with legal tender treasury notes, and, with largely augmented issues, must rise much higher, with a correspondent increase of our debt and expenditures. Indeed, should the war continue, and there be no other alternative than additional treasury notes, they will, before the close of the next fiscal year, fail to command forty cents on the dollar in gold, and our debt exceed several billions of dollars. This would result from an immense redundancy and depreciation of currency, and from the alarm created here and in Europe, as to the maintenance of the Union, and the ultimate solvency of the Government. Indeed, our enemies, at home and abroad, the rebels, and their allies in the North and in Europe, already announce impending national bankruptcy and repudiation, and there are many devoted patriots who fear such a catastrophe.

That the danger is imminent, is a truth which must not be disguised. Here lies the great peril of the Government. It is not the rebel armies that can ever overthrow the Union. It is the alarming increase of the public debt and expenditures, and the still more appalling depreciation of the national currency, that most imperil the great Republic.

And is the Union indeed to fall? Are we to be divided into separate States or many confederacies, each warring against the other, the sport of foreign oligarchs, the scorn of humanity, the betrayers of the liberty of our country and of mankind? Can we yet save the Republic? This is a fearful and momentous question, but it must be answered, and answered NOW. Inaction is syncope. Delay is death. The life of the Republic is ebbing fast, and the approaching Ides of March may toll the funeral words, It is too late!

What then must be done to avert the dread catastrophe? Action, immediate and energetic action, in the field and in Congress. Winter is the best season for a campaign in the South. On—on—on with the banner of the Republic, by land and sea, and with all the reinforcements, from the Ohio and Potomac to the Gulf. On, also, with the necessary measures in Congress to save our finances from ruin, arrest the depreciation of our national currency, and restore the public credit. We are upon the verge of ruin. We are hanging over the gulf of an irredeemable paper system, and its spectral shade, repudiation, is seen dimly in the dark abyss. The present Congress may save us; but what of the next? Would they, if they could? Who can answer? Can they, if they would? No! no! It will then be too late. Never did any representative assembly encounter so fearful a responsibility as the present Congress. Each member must vote as if the fate of the Union and of humanity depended upon his action. He must rise above the passing clouds of passion and prejudice, of State, local, or selfish interests, into the serene and holy atmosphere, illumined by the light of truth, and warmed by the love of his country and of mankind. His only inquiry must be, What will save the nation? The allegiance to the Union is paramount, its maintenance 'the supreme law,' the lex legum, of highest obligation, and he who, abandoning this principle, follows in preference any real or supposed State policy, is a secessionist in action, and a traitor to his country and mankind. Should the catastrophe happen, no such paltry motives will save him from disgrace and infamy; and, if he be snatched from oblivion, his only epitaph will be: Here lies a destroyer of the American Union. He did not destroy it by bullets, but by votes. He did not march against it with armed battalions; but, a sentinel, he slept on the post of duty, and—his country fell.

What, then, can Congress do? They can consider at once this great financial question, uninterrupted by any other measure, until there shall have been action complete and decisive. But two months more remain of the session. Not another day nor hour must be lost. All admit that something must be done, and done quickly.

What then is the remedy for our depreciated and depreciating national currency? The Secretary of the Treasury anticipated the disaster, and proposed a remedy in 1861. I gave his bank plan then my earnest and immediate support. Well would it have been for our country if it had then been adopted, and gold would not now command a premium of thirty-two per cent. After a year's experience and deliberation, the Secretary reiterates his former recommendation, with words of solemn import, and arguments of great force. His is the chief responsibility. To him is mainly intrusted the custody of the public credit. His is now the duty of saving us from national bankruptcy. At such a time, I would differ from him on such a question, only on the clearest convictions, and then only upon the condition that I had a better plan as a substitute, and that mine could become a law now, and be carried now into practical execution. If all this could not be done, I would support the plan of the Secretary, as all admit that delay or inaction is death. If my words be too bold or earnest, let them be attributed to my profound conviction that the American Union is in extreme peril, and that its downfall involves the final catastrophe of our country and of our race. Let no man talk of a separation of the Union in any contingency. Let none speak now of peace or compromise with armed treason. Let none think of constructing separate nationalities out of the broken and bleeding fragments of a dismembered Union. No; far better that our wrecked and blasted earth should swing from its orbit, disintegrate into its original atoms, and its place remain forever vacant in the universe, than that we should survive, with such memories of departed glory, and such a burning sense of unutterable infamy and degradation. Fallen—fallen—fallen! from the highest pinnacle to the lowest depth, to rise no more forever! What American would wish to live, and encounter such a destiny? And why fallen? From a cause more damning than our fate. Fallen, let the truth be told, as history would record, because faction was stronger than patriotism, and the degenerate sons of noble sires extinguished the world's last hope, by basely surrendering the American Union to the foul coalition of slavery and treason. This rebellion is the most stupendous crime in the annals of our race, and its projectors and coadjutors, at home or abroad, individual or dynastic, are doomed to immortal infamy. With its demoniac passions, its satanic ambition, desecrating the remains of the slain, making goblets of their skulls, and trinkets of their bones, this revolt is a heliograph of Dahomey, and Devildom daguerreotyped more vividly than by Danté or Milton.

The plan of the Secretary is clear, simple, comprehensive, practical, and effective. It is the plan of an uniform circulation, furnished by the Federal Government to banking associations organized by Congress, securing prompt redemption by the deposit of the same amount of U.S. six per cent stock in the Federal custody, the principal and interest of this stock being payable in gold. This plan, with me, is a necessity, and not a choice. It is the plan of the Secretary, and not mine, and is therefore supported by me from no vanity of authorship. Nay, more, it required me to overcome strong prejudices against any bank circulation, and especially any connected in any way with the Government. It is, however, a strong recommendation of the plan of the Secretary, that the proposed connection of the banks with the Government is not political, and attended with none of the formidable objections to the late Bank of the United States. Ever since the bank suspension of 1837, I have been a bullionist, and sustained that doctrine in the Senate of the United States, and as Secretary of the Treasury. The act establishing the independent treasury in 1846, was drawn by me, avowedly as a 'specie receiving and specie circulating' institution, and to restrain excessive issues by the banks; but it is impossible now to carry that system into practical execution. The suspension of specie payment by the banks and the Government, has been forced by the enormous expenditures of the war, and the sub-treasury, which never was designed for the custody or disbursement of paper, has been so far virtually superseded. In acceding now, as in December, 1861, to the Secretary's plan of a bank circulation, I must be understood as having changed my views in no respect as to banks, but that I yield to the great emergency, which renders the support of the war and of the Union paramount to any question of coin or currency.

The national disbursements for the present and succeeding fiscal year, as stated by the Secretary, together with his remarks on that subject, supersede the necessity of any further argument in proof of the absolute impossibility of specie payments now by the Government. We are compelled to resort to paper, and the only question is as to the character and extent of the issue. It is my opinion that we should limit this paper currency, as far as practicable, that it may be as little depreciated now as possible; so that when the rebellion is crushed, the banks and the Government may resume specie payments at the earliest moment. I favor the plan of the Secretary mainly because, by arresting depreciation, it would furnish a currency approaching specie now more nearly than can be accomplished in any other way, and because, when the war is over, it provides the best means for a return, in the shortest possible period, to specie payments. An irredeemable paper currency dissolves contracts, violates good faith, and its history here and in Europe is a record of financial ruin, bankruptcy, and repudiation, of frauds, crimes, and demoralization, which no friend of his country or race can desire to witness. The issue of treasury notes as a legal tender was favored by me as a necessity super-induced by the rebellion, and as a substitute for the present bank issues. Such notes would be depreciated much less when made a legal tender, and, to that extent, our expenditures would be diminished, and specie payments could, therefore, be resumed eventually at a much earlier period. Why, then, it is asked, not continue and extend that system, rather than adopt the plan recommended by the Secretary? Because, Congress refusing to prohibit a bank circulation, such increased issues of treasury notes would cause a further great depreciation of such notes, to that extent augment our expenditures, and postpone, perhaps indefinitely, the resumption of specie payments. Gold now commands a premium of thirty-two per cent., payable in treasury notes; but, if such issues be increased one half, they would fall to fifty per cent., and, if doubled, to at least sixty per cent. below specie. At the last rate, if our yearly expenditures, paid in paper, reached $700,000,000, this would command but $280,000,000 in gold, thus subjecting the Government to a loss of $420,000,000 per annum, and at thirty-two per cent. discount, $224,000,000 per annum. These notes, it is true, bear no interest, which at six per cent. on $280,000,000, would save $16,800,000 a year. But as under the Secretary's plan (hereafter developed) the Government would only pay an annual interest of four per cent. on this loan, the saving would only be $11,200,000. Deduct this interest thus saved from the $420,000,000 of increased annual expenditures, arising from such depreciation of treasury notes, and the result is a net loss of $408,800,000 per annum to the Government, from the use of such redundant and depreciated currency. Surely, such a system would soon terminate in bankruptcy and repudiation, repeating the history of French assignats and Continental money.

Nor is it the Government only that suffers from such a disaster, but the ruin extends to the people. There is no law more clearly established than this: that the currency of a country bears a certain fixed proportion to its wealth and business. If we expand the currency beyond this proportion, we violate this law, and will surely suffer the terrible penalties of this disobedience. This law is so certain and invariable, that, if the expansion beyond this proportion should be even in specie, the result would still be disastrous.

This was illustrated during the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, when Spain, having opened the virgin mines of America, brought the precious metals in countless millions within her limits, and restricted their exportation by the most stringent penalties. And what was the consequence? Mr. Prescott, of Boston, tells us in his great history, that 'the streams of wealth, which flowed in from the silver quarries of Zacatecas and Potosi were jealously locked up within the limits of the Peninsula.' 'The golden tide, which, permitted a free vent, would have fertilized the region through which it poured, now buried the land under a deluge, which blighted every green and living thing. Agriculture, commerce, MANUFACTURES, every branch of national industry and improvement, languished and fell to decay; and the nation, like the Phrygian monarch who turned all that he touched into gold, cursed by the very consummation of its wishes, was poor in the midst of its treasures.' Such was the effect of violating the law which regulates the ratio of money to wealth; such the consequence of a superabundant currency, even in specie. The result was that Spain, which had been the most prosperous nation of Europe, and whose products and manufactures had supplied the markets of the world, lost nearly all her exports, and was forced to resort to the prohibitory system. The cost of living, of working farms, of manufacturing goods, of making and sailing ships, became so high in Spain, from her superabundant currency, that she was unable to compete with any other nation, was reduced to poverty, and never began to recover until 'Spain changed her system, encouraged the exportation of the precious metals, and thus brought down her superabundant currency and inflated prices, and thus enabled Spanish industry to supply the markets of the Peninsula and of the world.' Then, the distinguished historian tells us, 'the precious metals, instead of flowing in so abundantly as to palsy the arm of industry, only served to stimulate it, the foreign intercourse of the country was every day more widely extended;' 'the flourishing condition of the nation was seen in the wealth and population of its cities,' etc. It is a redundant currency, even if gold or convertible into gold, that produces these evils, although depreciation adds to the disaster.

What is the effect here of a redundant currency, is ascertained by reference to our exports. By Treasury Tables 20 and 21, our foreign imports consumed here in 1836-'7 rose to $168,233,675, being largely more than double what they were in 1832 ($76,989,793), and nearly double the consumption, per capita, which was $5.61 in 1832, and $10.93 in 1836. This was our great year of a redundant, although still a convertible currency, when our imports consumed exceeded our exports of domestic produce, $61,662,733; and so enhanced was the cost of living and production here, that we actually imported breadstuffs that year of the value of $5,271,576. (Table 1, Com. and Nav.) Our bank currency that year was as follows: Circulation, $149,185,890; deposits, $127,397,185; circulation and deposits, $276,583,075; loans, $525,115,702. (Treasury Report, 1838, Doc. 79, tables K. K.) The legitimate result of this expansion of loans and currency was the great bank suspension of May, 1837, and general bankruptcy throughout the country.

Now our bank circulation in 1860 was $207,102,477; deposits, $253,802,129; circulation and deposits, $460,904,606; loans, $691,495,580. (Table 34, Census of 1860.) Yet our population in 1860 was more than double that of 1837, and our wealth (the true barometer, marking the proper rise and fall of our currency) had much more than quadrupled. (Census Table 35.) The proportion of the currency to wealth in 1837 was more than double the ratio of 1860. It was not the tariff that produced the suspension of 1837, for it was much lower in 1860, than at the date of the bank suspension of 1837.

By Treasury Table 24, our total exports abroad of domestic produce, exclusive of specie, from the 30th of September, 1821, to 30th June, 1861, were $5,060,929,667; and, in the year ending the 30th June, 1860, were $316,242,423. At the same rate of increase from 1860 to 1870, as from 1850 to 1860, our domestic exports exclusive of specie in the decade ending the 30th June, 1870, would have exceeded five billions of dollars, had peace continued and the currency been no more redundant in proportion to our wealth than in 1860. But with a redundant and depreciated currency our exports must have been reduced at least one fourth. What would be the effect on every branch of our industry, may be learned by looking at Treasury Table 40, showing our domestic exports for the year ending 30th June, 1861. These exports were, of the products of our fisheries, $4,451,515; of the forest, $10,260,809; of agriculture, exclusive of cotton, rice, and tobacco, $100,273,655, and of our manufactures, $35,786,804. This was mainly from the loyal States. Now if the foreign markets for our products are reduced only one fourth by the effect of a redundant currency, inflating here the cost of production and of living, the result would be most disastrous to our industry. The reduction would be equal, as we have seen, to $125,000,000 per annum, and $1,250,000,000 in the decade. Our imports would be reduced in the same proportion, and our revenue from customs in a corresponding ratio. Supposing the average rate of duties of the present tariff to be equal to 40 per cent. ad valorem, this would make a difference in our revenue from customs of $500,000,000 in the decade, and, including interest not compounded, $635,000,000. And here I deem it a duty to say to the financial portion of our peace party, especially in New York, that our redundant and depreciated currency, with our failure to crush the rebellion, and a consequent dissolution of the Union, would make repudiation inevitable. We are forced, then, by a due regard to our material interests, as well as by the higher obligations of honor and duty, to subdue the revolt and restore the supremacy of the Government in every State. This we can and must do. It is due to our country and to the world. It is due to the wounded and mutilated survivors of the bloody conflict, and to our martyred dead, murdered by the foulest treason, and in the accursed cause of slavery. No! all this blood and treasure must not have been poured out in vain. It is a question mainly of money and persistence. Our armies can and will conquer the rebellion, if we can and will supply the sinews of war. Our success is much more a financial than a military question. As regards the result, the Secretary of the Treasury holds now the most important post in this contest: he is the generalissimo; and as he is right on this question, and the fate of the Union is involved, I deem it my duty to give him my earnest and zealous support.

Ruinous as must be the effect of a redundant and depreciated currency upon all industrial pursuits, the injustice to our gallant army and navy, regulars and volunteers, would be attended with extreme peril. Upon their courage and endurance we must rely for success. We have pledged to our brave troops, who are wounded or dying by thousands that the Union may live, such pay as to enable them while fighting our battles to make allotments of portions of their money for the support of their families during their absence. We have promised pensions also. These are all solemn pledges on the part of our Government, and our faith is violated if this pay or these pensions are reduced. But there is no difference between a law directly reducing this pay and these pensions, and the adoption by Congress of the policy of a redundant and depreciated currency which will produce the same result. Every vote then in Congress for such a policy, is a vote to reduce the pay and pensions for our troops, and to annihilate the allotments made by them for the support of their families. What effect such a policy must have on our troops and the maintenance of the Union is but too palpable. It is disbandment and dissolution. Every such vote is given also to reduce the value of the wages of labor, and for increased taxation, to the extent, as we have seen, of $408,800,000 per annum. It is a vote also to reduce our exports and revenue from customs, to paralyze our industry; and finally, in its ultimate results, it is a vote against the war, for repudiation and disunion, and hence every disunionist will oppose the plan of the Secretary.

To what extent this redundancy and depreciation will go, by enlarged issues of legal tender treasury notes, we may learn from the fact that the banks substitute them for coin for the redemption of their paper. Now, just in proportion as the issue of treasury notes becomes redundant and depreciated, will the bank circulation, redeemable in such notes, augment and depreciate also. This is the law of bank circulation as now forced upon us by Congress. It is the law of redundancy and depreciation. If this policy is adopted by Congress, an enlarged issue made of treasury notes, and the plan of the Secretary discarded, our bank and treasury note circulation, with the war continued, will very largely exceed one billion of dollars before the close of the next fiscal year, and both will be depreciated much more than sixty per cent. Thus, if we should enlarge our issues of legal demand treasury notes to $500,000,000, and these be made the basis of bank issues, in the ratio of three to one, our total paper circulation would be $2,000,000,000, such treasury notes inflating the bank issues, and both depreciating together. And yet this is the currency in which it is proposed to conduct the war and the business of the country. The banks alone, by excessive loans and issues, would grow rich apparently, on the ruin of their country. But there would be a terrible retribution. The result would be general insolvency and repudiation, the debts due the banks would become worthless, and they be involved in the general ruin. It is then the interest of the banks to sustain the Government and the Secretary, and to transfer their capital to the new associations. This is especially the case with the New York banks, which, under a provision of their State constitution, HAVE NO LEGAL EXISTENCE. When repudiation and bankruptcy become general, the cry, like that of a routed army in a panic flight, would be raised, Sauve qui peut; we may have again an old and a new court party, especially under our miserable system of an elective judiciary; and the banks be crushed by wicked legal devices, as they were in the West and Southwest in 1824 and 1838.

Referring to bank issues, the Secretary says, in his last report: 'It was only when the United States notes, having been made a legal tender, were diverted from their legitimate use as a currency, and made the basis of bank circulation, that the great increase of the latter began.' At the present depreciation of these treasury notes, it is better for the banks, by one third, to redeem their circulation in these notes, rather than in specie; and they need keep only one dollar of treasury notes for three of bank circulation. This is the policy forced upon the banks by Congress. But the more redundant and depreciated this currency becomes, the easier will it be for the banks to provide the basis of redemption, and expand their circulation in the ratio, like that of specie, of three dollars of bank currency for each dollar of treasury notes held by them. Thus it is that the enlarged issue of treasury notes necessarily increases the bank circulation, in the ratio of three to one, and thus also, that the circulation of bank and treasury notes becomes redundant and depreciated. Under such a policy, every bank then, however loyal its stockholders or officers, becomes a citadel, whose artillery bears with more fearful effect upon the Government than all the armies of the rebellion. This will soon become obvious, and the odium will rest upon the banks, their officers and stockholders. But the real responsibility will be with Congress, who, by such a system will have arrayed the banks in necessary and inevitable hostility to the Government. Such, we all know, is not the intention of Congress; but as this result will necessarily flow from their measures, upon them, in the end, will fall the terrible responsibility of the disaster. It is this appalling condition of our finances that gives the rebellion its only hope of success, and invites foreign intervention. But if Congress will adopt the policy of the Secretary, they will render certain the triumph of the Union, and the rebels, from despair and exhaustion, must soon abandon the contest.

We have seen how dreadful is the disaster which the banks would bring on the country by pursuing the present system, and how terrible the odium to which they would be subjected. But now let us look at the result, if the plan of the Secretary is adopted. The new banks would become fiscal agents of the Government. Their circulation would be uniform, furnished by the Government, and based on U. S. stocks, the principal and interest of which would be payable in gold. The interest of labor and capital, of the banks, the Government, and the people, would for the first time become inseparably united and consolidated. This is a grand result, and fraught with momentous consequences to the country. Every citizen, whether a stockholder of the banks or not, would have a direct and incalculable interest in their success and prosperity. They, the people, would have this interest, not merely as holding the notes of the banks, which would become our currency, but because the banks would hold the stock of the Government, would have loaned it in this way the money to suppress the rebellion, and thus have saved us from a redundant and depreciated currency, from inevitable bankruptcy and repudiation, and have prevented the overthrow of the Union. Each bank would then become a citadel over which should float the flag of the Union, for each bank would then become a powerful auxiliary for the support of the Government and the overthrow of the rebellion.

The bill divorcing the banks and the Government was drawn by me, as Secretary of the Treasury, in 1846, to enlarge the circulation of specie, and restrain excessive issues of bank paper. I go for the reunion now, as proposed by the Secretary, to enable the Government to effect loans upon their stock, to prevent a redundant and depreciated paper currency, with a correspondent increase of expenditures, and to provide the means, when the war is over, to resume specie payment at the earliest practicable period. I was for restraining excessive paper issues then, and so am I now, as far as possible. I carried into full effect then the divorce of the Government and the banks, against a terrible opposition from them and the great Whig party. I made the divorce complete, a vinculo matrimonii: so now I would make the union complete, so far as proposed by the Secretary, for the interest of the banks and the Government would be united, and just as you strengthened the banks and increased their capital and profits, would you fund more and more treasury notes, and save us from the ruin of a redundant and depreciated currency.

The Secretary proposes to make these banks depositories of treasury notes, received by the Government for all dues except customs. This is well; for to use the sub-treasury to receive and circulate treasury notes, is against the object for which it was created. Such deposits should be secured by U. S. stocks with the Government, and thus largely increase the demand for this stock. During nearly my first two years as Secretary of the Treasury, the public moneys were deposited by me in the State banks, secured by United States and State stocks, and there was no loss. Nor, indeed, was there any loss or default by any officer, agent, or employé of the Treasury Department during my entire term of four years, notwithstanding the large loans and war expenditures.

Disbursing officers should also deposit with the banks, and pay as formerly by checks on them, with the same guarantee by them of U. S. stocks. How far, and to what extent, and under what special provisions the gold received for customs might be deposited with these banks, may be the subject of discussion hereafter.

If this system were adopted in its entirety, the process of absorbing treasury notes would commence at once, and also a correspondent rise in their market value. The system of loans and funding saved England from bankruptcy during her long wars with France, and we must resort to similar expedients. But as loans, in the usual way, except at ruinous discounts, for any large amounts, are impracticable, we are left to the alternative of the Secretary's system, or bankruptcy, repudiation, and disunion.

I have another suggestion to make as regards these notes furnished by the Government to the banks, secured by U. S. stocks. These notes are guaranteed not only by the stock of the Government, but, in addition, by the whole capital and property, real and personal, of the banks, and a prior lien on the whole to the Government, to secure the payment of these notes. These notes are receivable by the Government for all dues except customs. These notes are a national currency, furnished by the nation and secured by its stock.

These notes then, as in England, should be a legal tender in payment of all debts, except by the banks. As the banks can redeem these issues in legal tender treasury notes, these issues of the new banks ought to be a legal tender also, except by the banks.

There is another reason why this currency should be made a legal tender. Our two last suspensions of specie payments by the banks, viz., in 1857 and in 1860, were based upon panics, yet they had the same disastrous effect, for the time, as if arising from short crops, overtrading, or a currency greatly redundant. Such panic convulsions are caused mainly by the call for the redemption of bank notes in specie, based on the fear of suspension and depreciation. But if such notes, as in European government banks, were a legal tender, except by the banks, such panics would be far less frequent here, and less injurious. The present system, as compared with that of Europe, discriminates most unjustly against our country. As a general rule, the American creditor cannot demand gold from the foreign debtor, but such foreign or domestic creditor could always demand gold from the American debtor. This discrimination has produced here the most disastrous consequences, and, independent of the present condition of the country, our whole banking system requires radical reform. We have had eight general bank suspensions under our present bank system, many of them continuing for years, and producing ruin and desolation. Under our present system, to talk, as a general rule, of well-regulated banks, is to talk of a well-regulated famine or pestilence, or of a well-regulated earthquake or tornado. And even the few banks that are claimed to be well managed, have no appreciable effect on the system. It is the system that knows no uniformity or security, and never can have, as now organized. That a system so perilous and explosive, should have even partially succeeded is proof only of the intelligence and integrity, generally, of the bank officers and directors, but no recommendation of the system itself.

The want of uniformity as to commercial regulations, led to the adoption of our Federal Constitution; and yet we have no uniformity as to money, which represents commerce and effects its interchanges. In this respect, we are still suffering all the evils of the old confederacy, and have thereby so weakened the Government as to have invited this rebellion. Indeed, the State banks in the revolted States were the main auxiliaries of treason and secession, and supplied, to a vast extent, the sinews of war. By Census Table 34, there were in 1860, 1,642 banks, incorporated by thirty-four States, with no uniformity of organization, issues, or security. Thus is it that the States have usurped the power to regulate commerce and currency, and to emit bills of credit, in defiance of the prohibition of the Federal Constitution. The Egyptians abandoned their folly after seven plagues; but we have had eight bank convulsions, and yet we adhere to the wretched system.

I believe it was slavery caused the rebellion, but, in the absence of powerful aid from the Southern banks, the revolted States could never have maintained so prolonged a contest. Organized as now proposed, these new banks, and all who held their notes, must have sustained the Government. Nations expend millions yearly in erecting forts and maintaining, even in peace, large armies and navies to preserve the Government. But necessary as these may be, they would not be more important than the system now proposed as a security for the preservation of the Government.

My last suggestion is, that as regards all such United States loans, as during the war shall become the basis of this system, the time of payment shall be made twenty years instead of five, so as, with the modifications above proposed, to insure the coöperation of the banks, and the success of the system. As this plan is deemed essential to save our finances, to suppress the rebellion, and maintain the Union, why incur any hazard on such a question as this? In all our wars, including the present, we have issued bonds running twenty years to maturity, and the bonds, redeemable in 1881, are scarcely at par. Why, then, issue a stock of less value, which may fail to accomplish the great object, when a better security would certainly succeed? I fully agree in the opinion expressed by the Secretary, against 'a fixed interest of six per cent. on a great debt, for twenty years,' if it can be avoided; but I also concur in that portion of his report in which he says: 'No very early day will probably witness the reduction of the public debt to the amount required as a basis for secured circulation.' To that extent, then, would I enlarge the time for the maturity of the bonds. Surely, if this be necessary to secure the coöperation of the banks, and the capital of the country, there should be no hesitation. Even if the system, based only on the bonds of short date, should ultimately succeed, the loss, in the interim, from a redundant and depreciated currency, would far exceed any benefit derived from the substitution of five-twenties for twenty year bonds. By Census Table 35, our wealth in 1850, was $7,135,780,228, and in 1860, $16,159,616,068, the ratio of increase during the decade being 126.45 per cent.; at which rate, our wealth in 1870 would be $36,583,450,585, and in 1880, $82,843,222,849. Surely, then, at these periods, it would be much easier to liquidate this debt than in 1867. But, were it otherwise, the immediate gain from decreased expenditures, arising from funding more rapidly our treasury notes, thus rendering our currency less redundant and depreciated, with the revival of the public credit, and its immediate happy influence, North and South, here and in Europe, would far more than compensate for any contingent advantage arising from short loans. Our twenty years' loan is now barely at par, and the five-twenties below par. The difficulty of inducing bank and other capital to invest hundreds of millions of dollars under the new system is very great. Is it wise to commence the effort, confined to our weakest securities, now below par? Besides, considering the old and new debts, and constantly increasing responsibilities, is there any prospect that we will have liquidated all these before the end of five years, and the five-twenty loan also? Surely, upon a benefit so doubtful, and a contingency so improbable, we ought not to risk the fate of a measure on which depends the safety of the Union. But if we could pay off the five-twenty loan held by the new banks, is it prudent to assume that so many hundred millions of capital will be withdrawn from the present banks and other business for investment in the new banks, which may cease at the end of five years by payment of the bonds? The change from the old to the new banks may involve some loss at first, but, if the system may be arrested at the end of five years, just when profits might be realizing, the plan could scarcely succeed. When the Secretary first proposed this system in December, 1861, he probably would have succeeded with the five-twenties, in the condition at that date of the public credit. But the disastrous fall of our securities since that date, seems now to require bonds of a higher value.

I would then provide a twenty years loan, for all that may be made the basis of the new bank circulation. But it is not a six, but only a four per cent. twenty years' loan that is proposed, by deducting one per cent. semi-annually from the interest of the bonds made the basis of this bank circulation. This deduction would only be a fair equivalent for the expenses incurred by the Government in furnishing the circulation, for the release of taxes, for the deposit of public moneys with these banks, for making their notes a legal tender, and receiving them for all dues except customs. The tax on all other bank circulation should be one and a half per cent. semi-annually, secured by adequate penalties.

If, under this system, during this stupendous rebellion, involving the existence of the Government, with armies and expenditures unexampled in history, the Secretary (as, with the aid of Congress and the banks, I believe he can) should secure us a sound and uniform currency, and negotiate vast loans, running twenty years, at par, the Government paying only four per cent. interest per annum, he will have accomplished a financial miracle, and deserved a fame nearest to that of the first and greatest of his predecessors, the peerless Hamilton.

The bill organizing the new system, presented in Congress by Mr. Hooper last summer, is drawn with great ability, and it is much to be deplored, that (with some amendments) it had not then become a law, when it could have been much more easily put in operation, and would have saved hundreds of millions of dollars to the Government.

But the fifty-fifth section of that bill provides that all the banks organized under it are to become 'depositaries of the public moneys,' excepting those in 'the city of Washington.' Why this discrimination? If there be any place where banks, organized under a national charter, issuing a national currency, and receiving national deposits, should be encouraged, it is here. With no discrimination against them, such banks would be established here with considerable capital. And why not? It cannot be intended to discourage the establishment of such banks here, and thus defeat, to that extent, the success of the system. It is here, if anywhere, that such banks should receive the public deposits, where they could be constantly secured from day to day under the immediate supervision of the Government. Besides, the only effect of such a discrimination would be to drive such banks to Georgetown, Alexandria, or some other speculative site outside the city or District. This city has just been consecrated to freedom by Congress, and it is hoped that, in commencing its new career, no discrimination will be made against it. Indeed, I think it would be wise, in order to insure the success here of the new system, to allow the district banks organized under this law to receive the same rate of interest as is permitted in New York.

I have contended, during the last fourth of a century, that all State bank currency is unconstitutional. This rebellion will demonstrate the truth of that proposition, and the question ultimately be so decided by the Supreme Court of the United States. This, it is true, might require some of those Judges, if then living, to change their opinion on some points; but this has been done before, and even on constitutional questions; and State banks will fall before judicial action, as well as nullification, State allegiance, secession, and the whole brood of kindred heresies.

A republic which cannot regulate its currency, or which leaves that power with thirty-four separate States, each legislating at its pleasure and without uniformity, abandons an essential national authority, and this abdication has furnished one of the main supports of the rebellion. With nothing but a national currency, the revolted States never could have successfully inaugurated this war, and we must deprive them in all time to come of this terrible ally of treason. To permit the States to provide the circulating medium, the money of the country, is to enable them to furnish the sinews of war, and clothe them with a power to overthrow the Government.

With only such a national currency as is now proposed, issued by the Government to these banks, organized by Congress, and based on the deposit in the Federal treasury of United States stock, the rebellion would have been impossible. Our Government was so mild and benignant, that we deemed it exempt from the assault of traitors; but this revolt has dissipated this delusion, and warned us to provide all the safeguards indicated by experience as necessary to maintain the Union. Among the most important is the resumption by the Government of the great sovereign function of regulating the currency and giving to it uniformity and nationality. Such was clearly the intention of the Constitution. The Government has, by the Constitution, the exclusive power 'to regulate commerce with foreign nations, and among the several States.' But commerce is regulated mainly by money, and by it all interstate and international exchanges of products are made. If the currency is redundant, prices rise, exports are diminished; and the reverse follows with a contracted circulation. But banks inflate or restrict the currency at their pleasure, and thus control prices, commerce, exports, imports, and revenue. But they also destroy or depreciate the money of the Government, and deprive it of a vital power. Thus, the nation issues treasury notes, and makes them a legal tender: the banks immediately make such notes the basis of bank issues, in the ratio of three to one, and the whole currency necessarily becomes redundant and depreciated; and thus this essential power of the Government is controlled by the States, and, for all practical purposes, annihilated.

Chief Justice Marshall, in delivering the unanimous opinion of the Supreme Court of the United States (4 Wheaton 193), said: 'Wherever the terms in which a power is granted to Congress, or the nature of the power require that it should be exercised exclusively by Congress, the subject is as completely taken from the State Legislatures as if they had been forbidden to act on it.' Now, it has been decided by the Supreme Court of the United States (9 Wheaton 1) that, this power to regulate commerce extends to the land, as well as to the water, that it includes intercourse and navigation, and vessels, as vehicles of commerce, that it includes an embargo which is prohibitory, that this power is 'EXCLUSIVELY vested in Congress,' and 'no part of it can be exercised by a State.' Now, the question, whether the notes of a State bank, issued on the authority of a State, and designed to circulate as money, conflicts with this clause of the Constitution, has never been decided by the Supreme Court of the United States. This is a new and momentous question, never yet adjudicated by the Supreme Court; but how they would now decide that point, with the light thrown upon it by this rebellion, I cannot doubt.

The Government also has the sole power to lay and collect duties, which 'shall be uniform throughout the United States,' and the States are prohibited from exercising this authority. But this power also is in fact controlled by the banks, and the revenue from imports increased or diminished, according to their action. Indeed, they can modify or repeal tariffs at their pleasure, for, they have only to inflate the circulation, and prices rise here to the extent of the duties, and the tariff becomes inoperative. Of all the branches of our industry, the manufacturing is injured most by a redundant currency, limiting our fabrics to a partial supply at home, and driving them from the foreign market. Give us a sound, stable, uniform currency, sufficient but not redundant, and our skilled, educated, and intelligent labor will, in time, defy all competition. But the banks, as now conducted, are the great enemies of American industry.

The Government has also the sole power 'to coin money, regulate the value thereof,' etc. But the banks now regulate its value by controlling prices, by substituting their money for coin, and by expelling it from the country at their pleasure. Recollect, these powers over commerce and money are exclusive, not concurrent, so adjudicated, and the Constitution, in delegating them exclusively to the Government, withheld them altogether from the States. The conceded fact that these powers are exclusive, proves that the States cannot, by any instrumentality, directly or indirectly, control their exercise. An exclusive authority necessarily forbids any control or interference. But there are express prohibitions in the Constitution as well as grants. That instrument declares that 'no State shall emit bills of credit.' The State itself cannot emit circulating paper: how then can it authorize this to be done by a State corporation, which is the mere creature of a State law? The State cannot authorize its Governor to issue such paper: how then can it direct a cashier, deriving all his power only from a State law, to do the same thing? Qui facit per alium, facit per se, and this fundamental maxim of law and reason is violated when a State does through any instrumentality, created by it, what the State cannot do itself.

It is true that a majority of the Supreme Court of the United States, in 11 Peters 257, did decide that the Bank of the Commonwealth of Kentucky did not violate that clause of the Constitution forbidding States to 'emit bills of credit,' but Justice Story, in his dissenting opinion, said: 'When this cause was formerly argued before this court, a majority of the judges who then heard it were decidedly of opinion that the act of Kentucky establishing this bank was unconstitutional and void, as amounting to an authority to emit bills of credit, for and on behalf of the State, within the prohibition of the Constitution of the United States. In principle, it was thought to be decided by the case of Craig v. the State of Missouri (4 Peters 410). Among that majority was the late Chief Justice Marshall.' This decision, then, in the case of the Bank of Kentucky, is overthrown, as an authority, by the fact that it was against the decision of the Supreme Court in a former case, and against the opinion of a majority of the court in that very case before the death of Chief Justice Marshall. In delivering the opinion of the court in the Missouri case (4 Peters 410), Chief Justice Marshall defined what is that bill of credit which a State cannot emit. He says: 'If the prohibition means anything, if the words are not empty sounds, it must comprehend the emission of any paper medium by a State Government, for the purpose of common circulation.' And he also says: 'Bills of credit signify a paper medium, intended to circulate between individuals, and between Government and individuals, for the ordinary purposes of society.' That the notes of the Bank of Kentucky came within this definition and decision, is clearly stated by Justice Story. In that case also it was expressly decided, that if the issues be unconstitutional, the notes given for the loan of them ARE VOID. It is said, however, that the bills are issued by a bank, not by the State; but the bank is created by the State, and authorized by the State to issue these notes, to circulate as money. In the language of Chief Justice Marshall, in this case, 'And can this make any real difference? Is the proposition to be maintained that the Constitution meant to prohibit names and not things?' On this subject, Justice Story says: 'That a State may rightfully evade the prohibitions of the Constitution by acting through the instrumentality of agents in the evasion, instead of acting in its own direct name, is a doctrine to which I can never subscribe,' etc. I am conscious that Justice Story also said in the same case, arguendo: 'the States may create banks as well as other corporations, upon private capital; and, SO FAR AS THIS PROHIBITION IS CONCERNED, may rightfully authorize them to issue bank bills or notes as currency, subject always to the control of Congress, whose powers extend to the entire regulation of the currency of the country.' It will be observed, that Justice Story gives no opinion as to whether the issues of such banks are constitutional, whether they conflict or not with the power of Congress to regulate coin or commerce. He only says (and the limitation is most significant), they do not violate the prohibition as to bills of credit (from which I dissent); but he does declare that to Congress belongs 'the entire regulation of the currency.' Now this power must rest on the authority of Congress to regulate coin and commerce. But these powers, we have seen, were not concurrent, but exclusive; and, in the language of Chief Justice Marshall, in delivering the unanimous opinion of the Supreme Court in the case before quoted from 4 Wheaton 193, as to any such power that 'should be exercised exclusively by Congress, the subject is as completely taken from the State Legislature as if they had been forbidden to act on it.' All then who agree that Congress has 'the entire regulation of the currency,' must admit that all banks of issue incorporated by States are unconstitutional, not because such issues are bills of credit, but because they violate the exclusive authority of Congress to regulate commerce, coin, and its value. I repeat, that while this question has never been adjudicated by the Supreme Court, yet, if their decision in fourth and ninth Wheaton is maintained, such bank issues are clearly unconstitutional. It is clear, also, whatever may be the case of bank issues, based only 'upon private capital,' or, in the language of Judge Story, 'if the corporate stock, and that only by the charter, is made liable for the debts of the bank,' yet, if the bank issues are based on the 'funds' or 'credit' of the State, such issues do violate the prohibition against bills of credit. Such bank issues, then, as are furnished and countersigned by State officers, acting under State laws, and are secured by the deposit with the State of its own stock, are most clearly unconstitutional.

In No. 44 (by Hamilton) of the Federalist, the great contemporaneous exposition of the Constitution (prepared by Hamilton, Madison, and Chief Justice Jay of the Supreme Court of the United States), it is said: 'The same reasons which show the necessity of denying to the States the power of regulating coin, prove with equal force that they ought not to be at liberty to substitute a paper medium instead of coin.' Such was the opinion of the two great founders of the Constitution (Hamilton and Madison), and its first judicial expositor, the eminent Chief Justice Jay. Justice Story quotes and approves this remarkable passage, and says 'that the prohibition was aimed at a paper medium which was intended to circulate as money, and to that alone.'

In his message of December 3, 1816, President Madison, referring expressly to a bank and paper medium, said: 'It is essential that the nation should possess a currency of equal value, credit, and use, wherever it may circulate. The Constitution has entrusted Congress exclusively with the power of creating and regulating a currency of that description.'

This rebellion proves the awful danger of State violations of the Federal Constitution. The rebellion is the child of State usurpation, State supremacy, State allegiance, and State secession. And now the Government is paralyzed financially, in its efforts to suppress the rebellion, by a question as to State banks, depreciating the currency, and State banks based on State stocks. The Government wishes a currency, not redundant, and to borrow money to save the Union. But one State says, we have placed all our surplus money in State banks, and another State (as in the case of New York) says, we have based the circulation of these banks, mainly on our own State bonds, and you must do nothing which will injuriously affect their value. It is true the Union is in danger, but are not the credit of State banks and State bonds of higher value than the Union? The State first, the Union afterwards. Our paramount duty is to our State, and that to the Union is subordinate. Why, this is the very language of rebellion—the echo of South Carolina treason. But it is not the language of the Constitution, which declares that "This Constitution, and the laws of the United States which shall be made in pursuance thereof, and all treaties made, or which shall be made, under the authority of the United States, shall be the supreme law of the land: and the judges in every State shall be bound thereby, anything in the Constitution or laws of any State to the contrary notwithstanding."

The supremacy then, is with the Federal Constitution and laws; otherwise there could be no uniformity or nationality. And does New York suppose that she can tear down the temple of the Union, and that the principal pillar which supported the arch will stand firm and erect? No! if the Union falls, New York will only be the most conspicuous among the broken columns.

But New York knows that the path of interest is that of honor and of duty. It is the Union only that has made her great. It is the concentration by the Union of interstate and international commerce in her great city, that was consummating its imperial destiny. Before the Union of 1778 and 1787, New York city was the village of Manhattan: destroy the Union, and she will again become little more than the village of Manhattan. The trident of the ocean, the sceptre of the world's commerce would fall from her grasp, and London be left without a rival. Deprive the Government of the power to regulate commerce, and the fall of New York will be as rapid as her rise. Each State then, as before the Constitution, would control its own commerce, and the railroads and canals of New York would cease to be the vehicles of the trade of the nation and of the world. Each State, as under the old Confederacy, would force commerce into her own ports by prohibitory or discriminating statutes. No, when New York takes from the Union the exclusive control of commerce, she commits suicide. One uniform regulation of commerce, and one uniform currency, are more essential to the prosperity of New York than to that of any other State. New York represents interstate and international commerce. There are concentrated our imports and exports, and there three fourths of our revenue is collected. There, if the Union endures, must be the centre of the commerce of the nation and of the world. If the rebellion succeeds, the separation of the East and West is just as certain as that of the North and South. Discord would reign supreme, and States and parts of States become petty sovereignties, mere pawns, to be moved on the political chess board by the kings and queens of Europe.

As New York has derived the greatest benefits from the Union, so would she suffer most from its fall. It is New York to whom the Union transferred the command of her own commerce, and ultimately that of the world. It is New York to which England looks as the future successful rival of London, and it is New York at whom England chiefly aims the blow in desiring to overthrow the Union. The interest of New York in the price of bank or State stock is insignificant compared with her still greater stake in the success of the Union. Indeed, if the Union should fall, State and bank stock and all property will be of little value, and bank debts will generally become worthless.

But if the war continues, we have seen that a redundant and depreciated currency would increase our expenditures $408,800,000 per annum. This would require a like addition to our annual tax, of which the share of New York would be over $50,000,000, and the share of every other State in like proportion to its population.

By Treasury Table 35, the stocks, State and Federal, held by the New York banks in 1860, was $29,605,318, the circulation $28,239,950, and the capital $111,821,957. Thus it appears that the increased tax to be paid annually by New York, as the consequence of a redundant and depreciated currency, would be nearly double her whole bank circulation, and that thirteen months of this increased tax to be paid by the nation, would largely exceed the whole capital of all the banks of the United States in 1860. (Census Table 35.) These are the frightful results of an irredeemable, redundant, and depreciated currency.

Such a course, on the part of a Government, which must make large purchases, resembles that of an individual who wishes to buy largely on his own credit and paper, but depreciates it so much as to compel him to pay quadruple prices, the result being bankruptcy and repudiation.

There is great hope in the fact that New York takes no contracted view of this great question. She knows that her imperial destiny is identified with the fate of the Union. Realizing this great truth, she has more troops in the field than any other State, she has expended more money and more blood than any other State to suppress this rebellion, and she will never array State stocks or State banks in hostility to the safety of the Union.

And what of Pennsylvania, that glorious old Commonwealth, so many of whose noble sons, cut off mostly in the morning of life, now fill graves prepared by treason? Is she to become a border State, and her southern boundary the line of blood, marked by frowning forts, by bristling bayonets, by the tramp of contending armies, engaged in the carnival of slaughter, and revelry of death? Is New England to be re-colonized, and the British flag again to float over the chosen domain of freedom? What of the small States, deprived of the secured equality and protective guarantees of the Constitution, to be surely crushed by more powerful communities? What of the West? Is it to be cut off from the seaboard, and rendered tributary to the maritime power? What of the States of the Pacific? Are they to lose the great imperial railways destined, under the Union, to connect them with the valley of the Mississippi and the Atlantic? But alas! why look at any of the bleeding and mutilated fragments, when all will be involved in a common ruin?

May a gracious Providence give us all, the wisdom to discern what is best for our beloved country, in this her day of fearful trial, and the courage and patriotism to adopt whatever course is best calculated to save us from impending ruin!

A TRIP TO ANTIETAM.

The great battle of the Antietam had been fought, and a veteran army was gathered around Harper's Ferry recruiting for fresh campaigns. Here was a chance to see a battle field and warriors to be celebrated for all time. From childhood up we have been taught history; and all history, except some few dry constitutional treatises, has been accounts of great commanders, of the marches and retreats of bronzed soldiers, of empires won by the sword, of dynasties established by conquests. Our hymn book, our clergymen, and our Bible have exhorted us to be soldiers of the cross, to buckle on our armor, and to fight the good fight, even when turning the other cheek when smitten on the one. Now this opportunity to see actual history, a battle field, and veteran troops, and great leaders whose names are to be household words, could not be resisted; so, taking a couple of blankets apiece, and a few clothes, and money wherewith to pay our way, we started by rail for Baltimore, and thence for the army.

Around Baltimore were several regiments. Those that we visited were of the recent levies, and were improving fast in discipline and drill. They were placed in strong positions to prevent a rebel attack from the west, and to command the city. The stars and stripes floated over houses in all parts of the town. We met a little company of boys seven miles out playing soldier, with the star-spangled banner, a cheering sign of the loyalty of the place.

At Baltimore my friend and I took seats in the car for Harper's Ferry. The train was crowded with a most miscellaneous set of passengers, officers of all grades, from general with stars to second lieutenant with plain bands, common soldiers, sutlers, Jews, and country people. Some of the Jews, after a time, became the most noisy part of the crowd, and belied their proverbial reputation for shrewdness by imbibing from bottles, which they circulated very freely, becoming very talkative, and most decidedly drunk. The most interesting companion we met was a member of the Maryland House of Representatives, a very sensible man, and of course a strong Unionist. He did not approve of the President's emancipation proclamation; thought it would alienate Union men in the Border States, and made other objections to it. He informed us that his negroes were of no profit to him; that the proclamation had made them believe they would all be free; that they did pretty much what they chose; and that Maryland would have to accede to the President's advice to the Union Border States to emancipate their slaves and receive compensation for so doing.

The railroad, after leaving the Relay House, runs along the Patapsco river, amid most beautiful scenery. We passed numerous trains with Government stores—one of baggage cars fitted up with rough seats and crowded inside and on the top with a regiment of Uncle Sam's bluecoats, cheering and singing as new troops only do. There were no signs of the devastations of war until we approached the Monocacy river. During their campaign in Maryland, the rebels at one time made this river their line of defence: it was supposed that they would make here a stand against McClellan's advance from Washington. They had burnt the woodwork of the bridge, twisted the long iron rods of the structure to one side, destroyed all the railroad building, engines, and cars they could lay hands on, and had done everything to retard our force. A new bridge had now been recently built, over which we were obliged to pass slowly. Immediately after leaving the river, the road branched, one track leading to Frederick, then an immense hospital containing seven thousand wounded soldiers, the other keeping on and striking the Potomac at the Point of Rocks. We saw soldiers and sentries at several places, but were surprised that we did not see more. The road keeps close to the river for some miles to Harper's Ferry. On the other side the ground was frequently occupied by the enemy's pickets; the difficulty of approaching the river being the only impediment to the shelling of trains on our side. The Potomac was unusually low; there had been a long season of dry, beautiful weather, rendering it fordable in many places.

At the Point of Rocks we enter upon the mountains of the Blue Ridge, and the railroad winds in the deep valley worn by the river, amid the most picturesque and beautiful scenery. The canal is between the railroad and river: its locks had been destroyed and the water drained out by the rebel hordes; for it is a great artery of life to Washington, and invaluable to an army encamped along its borders, furnishing economically the transportation of the great supplies necessary for the soldiers' subsistence. At this time it seemed of no use except as a depository for the carcasses of dead horses.

With the exception of this dismal empty canal, there were very few signs of the ravages of the armies which had lately swept through these charming valleys. A few miles from Harper's Ferry, by the side of the railroad, were great hayricks, and the barns were full to overflowing. As we approached Sandy Hook, a village of a few houses on the north side of the Potomac, about a mile from Harper's Ferry, we saw on the road, which ran close to the railroad track, thousands of the blue-bodied, white-topped army wagons. In the most crowded thoroughfare of London one would not see so many teams. From this neighborhood the great army of the Potomac drew the most of its supplies. The ninth army corps was moving this day to its camp, two or three miles northward; and part of its cannon, their brazen throats still tarnished by sulphurous smoke, added to the throng. It is surprising how large a portion of the army is composed of these baggage trains, and of the camp followers, teamsters, servants, and sutlers. A regiment of infantry, under the little shelter tents is crowded, into a small space; but the bulky baggage trains cover much ground. We spent the best part of a day, in going to and returning from the army, in the neighborhood of a small wayside tavern in this little village of Sandy Hook, with no other amusement than watching the moving of the teamsters, chatting with stray officers and soldiers, and seeing what may be called the back-stair life of the army. And we wish here to protest against the abuse which has been so abundantly heaped upon the teamsters: we found them, as a class, a respectable body of men, quite skilful in the management of their animals, comparing well with those in the same occupation in our great cities: there was certainly not so much swearing, and not so much abuse of their mules and horses, as one sees in New York. I remember their kind attention to me, some days afterward, when, in my impatience to get by a long train of teams filling up a little country road, I had imprudently urged my horse on to a ledge of rocks, where he, not being an old warhorse, hesitated, slipped, and fell flat on his side, among the mules of one of the wagons; and, as the horse, with my leg under him, was rolling to recover himself, the anxiety of the teamsters as to whether I was hurt, and then as to my horse, a fine animal, who had cut himself a little on the rocks. Their proffered assistance was very different from the oaths I should have met under similar circumstances in some Northern cities.

The army wagons are large, with great white cotton coverings, and generally drawn by six mules: the driver, usually a colored man, rides the first nigh mule, and has one rein, called the 'jerky rein,' running over the head of the mule before him, through a ring fastened to his headstall, and dividing on the back of the leader, and fastening to his bit. The mule is directed to one side or another by the driver twitching the rein and shouting. There were some few wagons driven from the box, but in all these cases that we noticed, the animals were horses, four in number, and their drivers were white. The mules and horses were generally in good condition, and quite a contrast to those in the cavalry service, which, even in a crack regiment, like the sixth regular, presented a most sorry appearance of overwork and terribly hard usage. The baggage trains and camp followers are a necessary portion of every army, and its efficiency depends in a great measure upon the perfect organization of this essential part. In the French army this organization is carried to a high degree of perfection. A small army of ten or twenty thousand men can get along with a fewer proportional number of followers, as it lives more upon the country, than a great army of one hundred thousand.

Every regiment has its own baggage wagons to carry its tents, cooking apparatus, officers' mess chests, and personal baggage. At the beginning of the war, each of the Massachusetts regiments was fitted out with from fifteen to twenty-four wagons. A recent United States regulation has limited the number to six for one regiment. The personal baggage of the regiments, however, forms a small part of the great transportation of an army. The spare ammunition is no small matter; every cannon having a supply of round shot, shell, canister, and grape: all these may be needed by each piece in a battle, as the shot used depends upon the distance of the foe. A full regiment of infantry may fire in one battle sixty thousand rounds of ammunition, weighing nearly three tons. The pontoon trains, the baggage of the staff, the forage for the horses of the artillery and of the generals, field officers, and their staffs, the food of the army, and the food and forage for this further army of camp followers—all have to be transported. The cavalry are expected to forage for their horses from off the country; all the rest have to be provided for. To carry the subsistence of a regiment of nine hundred men for one day, requires one of the six-mule teams: for a march of twenty days there must be twenty wagons. One will see from this that, next to the general, the quartermaster has the great post of responsibility. He has to see that all the supplies are obtained and forwarded to the right place. He commands all these countless wagons with their teamsters. It is also his duty, when on the march, to pick out the camp, unless the general may take it from out of his hands. The army, as a general thing, will not fight well unless it is well fed and well cared for. To assist him, the quartermaster has his necessary clerks, for he carries on a large business, with Uncle Sam as his principal, and he must account to him for every pound of coffee, bacon, flour, and hay, barrel of vinegar, keg of nails, tent or tent pin that he receives, and finally return them, or tell him satisfactorily where they have gone, and produce his vouchers; or he and his bondsmen must pay their value. All this is done by system and rule: there are mounted wagonmasters to look out for every small string of wagons, and some sort of discipline prevails among these non-enlisted men. A great army must be a moving city, capable of subsisting itself in the uncultivated and desert regions through which it often passes. Every cavalry soldier carries his spare horseshoes and nails; and every cavalry regiment and every battery of artillery has its own forge, tools, and materials for shoeing its horses and making repairs: even the quartermaster's train must have its blacksmiths and their supplies.

In travelling down the Rhone during the Crimean war, I was vainly trying to make out the meaning of the letters on the military button of an officer sitting before me; when one of his companions, who happened to be at my side, a well-educated, intelligent man, good-naturedly informed me that they indicated that the wearer belonged to the bureau of the post. He and several others on the boat had been educated for this branch of the service at a military school in Paris, and were en route for the sole purpose of taking charge of this department. We have not arrived at this perfection; for ours, after all, in many respects, is an army of volunteers; but still a messenger had to go every day to Washington for the letters of the army corps, and the telegraph and its wires travel with the camp. The officers' servants alone, in an army of a hundred and fifty thousand men, number more than the thirty-nine hundred soldiers the city of Boston has to raise for her proportion of the levy of nine-months men. The number of servants and horses of an officer depends upon his rank; he draws subsistence for the number allowed to him. A mere cavalry captain can draw for and usually has two horses. His horses and trappings, his mess, must be cared for by others; and hence the thousands of servants that must go with the thousands of officers.

But let us pass from this, which is common to every army, and proceed on our journey. The easily pulverized, light, clayey soil around Sandy Hook was raised in huge clouds by the countless wagons and the hoofs of the horses of the squads of cavalry officers, couriers, and wagonmasters. The little tavern was once, the old woman who kept it assured us, surrounded by a pretty fence, and a garden with grass and flowers: now the fence was half gone, and to its pickets were tied the horses of officers, quartermasters, baggagemasters, and orderlies, and the flowers were trampled into light dust. The provisions in the house had been eaten by hungry travellers, who were supplied with very scanty fare, and were thankful to get that. The old woman, having dealt out to us the little she had left, for which she demanded most abundant compensation, amused us with her tales. Her house had been alternately the home of Unionists and rebels. It was not many days since divisions of rebels had gone by and encamped there, both before and after the surrender of Harper's Ferry. The shells fired in that fight had passed over her tavern. Her description of the hungry, tired troopers, arriving in the evening, and surrounding the house, the men falling down asleep under their horses' bellies, horses and men packed in together as thick as a swarm of bees, was quite graphic. Her accounts of her conversations with the great rebel leaders were interesting, but I feared were apocryphal, as she ended by assuring us that General Lee had to sleep supperless on her woodpile. If it were not for this last tale, kind reader, you would have been entertained with the conversations of the great chiefs of rebeldom, as related by a reliable witness. We did hear from her, and from officers who saw the rebel soldiers at Harper's Ferry, of the pitiable condition of some of the infantry, of their naked, bleeding feet, and their gaunt looks. Our landlady affirmed that we could not find a dog in the neighborhood; for they had gone before the rebel hordes in the way that such flesh disappears before the Chinese and Pacific Islanders. It is probably true that at times they were hard pressed for food, and many badly off for shoes; but we were told by officers who saw the dead at Antietam that, though not so well shod as our men, they were shod, and they had provisions in their haversacks. The rebels have flour dealt out to them as rations on the march, and they have to cook it. Our troops have hard biscuit, called 'tack;' it is made in squares, and some which was fresh was very good; but it often comes to the regiments with maggots. This is not so much objected to; but when, in addition, it is mouldy, the men grumble. By the side of the fresh tack were some Sandy Hook veteran biscuit, that had been through the Peninsular campaign, and had come last from Harrison's Landing; the outside of the boxes was enough to condemn them, and the commissary was saying that he must get Uncle Sam's inspector-general to examine and pass upon them. When we saw this hard, mouldy old tack, we appreciated the joke of the Western boys, who declared they found the date of the baking on their biscuit in the letters 'B. C.,' 'Before Christ.' The luxury of soft bread is prized by the troops. Near Baltimore, where the 38th Massachusetts were stationed for some weeks, nice ovens were built, after the fashion of the French army, and fresh bread, meats, and the Yankee Sunday beans cooked. With the army in the field this cannot be done, but the ovens could have been built during the weeks our soldiers were resting on the banks of the Potomac. Our troops at this time were fed on the hard tack and fresh beef; and some of the men in a camp near Sharpsburg complained of the want of salt provisions. This seemed unreasonable, until we heard that they had no salt, the long distance it had to be teamed being the excuse given for the unpardonable want of it. This hard tack is doing one good thing: it is giving the men white teeth; you can tell an old soldier by his polished ivory; his teeth approach the appearance of the Italian and Swiss peasantry, who also chew hard bread. Reader, did you ever try to work your way through the hard loaf of the peasant's fare? The army regulations require tooth brushes for the men; it is supposed that the proper use keeps off ague and disease; still many regiments were without one to a company.

But to return to our old woman at the little tavern of Sandy Hook. She had tales, too, of our officers. That morning she had seen our handsomest and our most splendid-looking general—in appearance the ideal of the brigand of the romance—Burnside, riding by, with his black, tall, army felt hat, without plume or gilt eagle, brim turned down, his dark blue blouse covered with dust. 'Why,' said she, 'he looked, in his dusty blue shirt, with two old tin dippers strung by the handle at his belt, like any farmer; but I suppose he had some better clothes.' Her lament for the gallant fellows who had fallen by disease, torn by the cannon shot, or struck by the deadly rifle ball; for the sufferings of the poor, sick, lame, and mutilated soldiers; and her solemn asseverations that there was something wrong in the hearts of the leaders on both sides, to permit this suffering and loss of so many good men, was truly touching. We could not reason it out with her; logic had to give place to her pathetic lamentation. I do not, however, intend to keep my readers so long a time at this little wayside inn as I was; and will pass on to Harper's Ferry, a mile beyond.

But before we part, we certainly should not fail to notice a modern addition to the camp follower that Napoleon did not have in his grand armies—the newsboy—the omnipresent, the irrepressible gamin of the press. New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, all had contributed their quota, and what a glorious harvest they were reaping! Baltimore Americans, at five cents each; New York Heralds, Tribunes, and Times, at ten cents; and everything sold early. One little fellow was strutting around with a pair of spurs on, and styled himself 'colonel;' the others he introduced as his staff. The day's work was over, and larking had begun. I found the spurs were for use. The colonel had bought an old condemned brute, which his companions were trying to buy at the advanced price of ten dollars. The camps were at a distance, from two miles upward, and a mounted boy could bring his wares to market first. And so the whole afternoon every rider of a particularly bad horse was pestered by an offer of five or ten dollars, from a throng of dirty, noisy, scampish ragamuffins. Later in the evening, the guard went by with some three or four of the boys, for once without a grin on their faces, under arrest. We asked the colonel, who had the reputation of being an honest fellow, what was the matter with his suite. He only replied that it was hard times for newsboys, if that was the way things were going; and walked off, clanking his long spurs over the stones.

The railroad and road from Sandy Hook to Harper's Ferry run under the Maryland Heights, the rocks having been blasted away for a passage. The railroad bridge had been rebuilt, not permanently, but so that trains could again cross. Lower down the river were the remains of the pontoon bridge destroyed by the rebels. Higher up on the other side of the railroad was a new pontoon bridge, built on boats, painted with Uncle Sam's light blue color. Farther up, the wagons were fording the stream. As you crossed the pontoon bridge, you came directly to the little stone engine house, with its belfry, where John Brown held the power of the great State of Virginia at bay. All else of the Government buildings are in ruins. The long lines of brick and stone walls blackened by fire, and the picturesque broken arches of the engine-house windows, were a fit greeting to one's entrance upon the ruined grandeur of the Old Dominion. Through the clouds of dust and the noise and confusion of the village upon the hill rising immediately above the river, we rode, noting the signs of the recent contest, or looking down on the blue Potomac, flowing peacefully below. One large brick house had a breach in the basement story large enough for us to ride in, caused by some bursting shell. Dead horses still lay in the road; the tailpiece of a broken cannon was yet there. As we emerged out of the dust at the top of the hill beyond, toward the afternoon sun, rose Bolivar Heights, and the innumerable white tents of General Sumner's large army corps. The soldiers were out for drill or dress parade. The distant sounds of the bands and bugles and drums, sometimes succeeding each other, then mingling together, fell softened but constantly on the ear, and everywhere was the gleam of the declining sun on glistening sword or bright musket barrel. Behind us to the east, and beyond the Shenandoah, which flowed at the foot of the village, arose the high Loudon Mountains; on the north, on the other side of the Potomac, were the Maryland Heights, with the road to Sharpsburgh and Williamsport winding along its wooded base. The tops of these mountains were lighted up and wreathed with the smoke of the fires kindled to destroy the thick woods that might afford shelter to approaching enemies. It was most charming mountain scenery. We enjoyed the view long, but had to turn our backs at last; and as we recrossed the pontoon bridge we wiped off from the soles of our feet a large portion of the sacred soil of Virginia. Yes, the sacred soil of Virginia, the mother of presidents, the home of Washington, Patrick Henry, Jefferson, and Madison, and of how many others famous in our history. O Virginia, what a contrast is there now! the blood of thy boasted chivalry struggling manfully stains the ground; thy soil is ground to powder under the heel of the hated mudsils of the North; thy fertile plains and beautiful valleys are trodden down by armed men; the fierce contest, and desolation and want have come to every household; and the cry arises for thy sons that are not!

The headquarters of Gen. McClellan were two or three miles north of Knoxville, a little village on the Potomac, about three miles below Harper's Ferry. The day that we were there, the General was absent on his way to meet Mrs. McClellan, and though the telegraph wires ran to headquarters, nothing was there known of the foray Stuart had begun early that morning from Hancock, in the rear of our forces; not till evening, and until his arrival at Chambersburg did the news arrive. If the telegraph wires had been laid, or the signal corps so stationed as to have given warning of the inception of this movement, these bold rebels could not have advanced so far, but would have been compelled to retreat as they came. Between the General's headquarters and the river were the famous sixth cavalry of regulars and some batteries of artillery. He had no guard in the direction of Pennsylvania toward the northeast, where Stuart's cavalry passed on their way to the Potomac. The camp itself was not well placed, and was soon changed. In going from it we rode through a most beautiful country by the side of an officer of the sixth cavalry, and listened to his enthusiastic account of scouting in front of our lines, in the footsteps of the retreating enemy, over the very roads we were travelling safely and without concern; and yet we were not many miles from the foe, and within reach of the marvellous flight of the minié ball, which some lurking rifleman might aim from the other side of the Potomac. These cavalry soldiers and horses have had a terribly hard time of it. The horses of the sixth were more broken down and thinner than in the artillery or baggage trains. Two squadrons had lately been part of the force sent on a reconnoisance to Leesburg; and upon the return of our troops it had been the duty of our companion, then in command, to bring up the rear and drive in the infantry stragglers. Some two hundred had fallen out of the ranks from mere exhaustion. To leave any of these soldiers behind would be giving them up as prisoners, and affording the enemy the opportunity of obtaining information which it was of the utmost importance for the safety of the expedition to keep back. The troopers had therefore to drive them on with their swords—not a pleasant duty, when the poor fellows were faint and used up by fatigue—still it must be done. This service creates quite a dislike between the two arms. The infantry man hates the horseman, and the cavalry man despises the foot soldier. At this time straggling was quite prevalent: we saw on byroads many who had left the ranks, almost invariably having thrown away their arms, and subsisting on plunder. The cavalry were scouring the roads for them, and were bringing them in as prisoners for punishment. This sixth cavalry, like all the old regiments which had been through the Peninsular campaign and the disastrous retreat under Pope, was frightfully reduced in numbers: only three hundred and seventy were around the standards out of the eleven hundred who first took the field. Many had fallen on picket or been cut off singly, more by disease, but alike doing their duty, unmentioned and unnoticed. A larger number were yet suffering from overwork and sickness; and the regiment would in time recruit to seven hundred, from men now disabled, if there should be no more casualties.

A few days in camp, in a good-sized tent—none of the two-feet-high shelter affairs—in pleasant summer weather, is, on the whole, something new and exhilarating. The ground, to be sure, is rather hard, particularly when you have no straw; and a soldier's table is not always the most luxurious in the world. Now that we are safe, dry, and warm, at home, we can venture to declare that we were very unfortunate in losing the sensation of going without food, of sleeping in the mud and in the rain—our arms girded on—any moment to be aroused by the whistle of the bullet or the roll of the drum calling us to the deadly strife.

To us, however, it was all couleur de rose. In the early morn, at break of day, it was not the crow of the cock, or the jarring rattle of the wheels of the city baker or milkman, but the reveille that waked us from our martial dreams. The drum of the infantry, the bugles of the cavalry and artillery would begin; some early riser would rouse up his regiment; then another would take it up; until the call had gone through every corps. The old staid rub-a-dub of the English drummer is giving place to the stirring French rat-a-plan. And there was one band that generally led off in a splendid style. They did beat their drums lively and sharply. Not being obliged to be up with the sun and cook our own breakfast, we generally contrived to get a little more sleep. After breakfast, the bands were playing for guard-mounting; and we sat gazing down into the valley from our tent upon the large army corps encamped below. We were on the western slope of the Blue Ridge, through whose gaps not many days before, a few miles farther north, Franklin had successfully fought his way. Still farther up, Burnside, with Reno and Hooker under him, had at South Mountain driven the enemy in—that battle which came to us so welcome, the first victory after Pope's disasters, and the retreat from the Peninsula. The valley below us was Pleasant Valley. The opposite side to our tent was a short spur of the Blue Ridge; the southern extremity of which is the Maryland Heights, so well known in the history of the surrender of Harper's Ferry. The valley between is fertile and highly cultivated, full of mountain springs and brooks, emptying into one stream of sufficient size to turn the wheels of a large mill; the water is delicious; the prevailing limestone does not reach this valley. In the morning before the army moved there, the little river was clear as crystal; at night it was changed into an opaque white color, a stream of soapy water; a pleasing witness to the cleanliness of our men. There were no clothes lines, however, but many of the washers were so scantily off for clothing that they put their garments on to dry. The farmhouses in the valley are mostly of stone. It is a most charming and beautiful place, and appropriately called 'Pleasant Valley.' The farmers are prosperous; and the land so rich that it sells for the high price of seventy and eighty dollars an acre. The mountains rising on the sides of the valley are thickly wooded; and in the cultivated fields between were crowded the tents of the ninth army corps. With the exception of one or two new regiments who had wall tents, the soldiers were under little shelter tents, of which each man carries a piece. The infantry were encamped in divisions and brigades; the cavalry generally picketed along a fence; the horses and men, except the officers, without shelter. The encampments of the artillery and cavalry with their horses, forges, and wagons, covered much ground; but the infantry were thickly crowded together; and it was surprising to see how many men a small encampment would turn out.

In the afternoon came drills, sometimes of regiments, sometimes of brigades, and the unfailing dress parade. There were a few regiments of new levies just arrived, a thousand strong; all provided with overcoats, and looking finely in their new, clean clothes—quite a contrast to the old soldiers. In one of the old regiments on brigade drill we saw an officer, probably a sergeant, in a checked knit undervest, his neck and part of his arms bare—commanding a company. A sentry on guard before the quarters of the general in command, had great holes in both elbows of his dirty jacket, and his shoes were untied. The brigades were generally of five regiments, a new regiment being one, and composing fully two fifths of the line. It is not wholly, however, by the casualties of the battle or the greater losses from exposure, overwork, and disease, that the regiments are diminished. If a good blacksmith is found, he is detailed to the forge; others are detached as ambulance drivers, or as hospital attendants or clerks. This thins the ranks of the old regiments. It is surprising, however, to see how much better the veterans will bear exposure than men coming fresh from home. The old regiments were frightfully diminished by disease on the Peninsula; but I saw very few that could not rally more men than the 35th Massachusetts, that had been out of the State only a little over a month. They had but three hundred men of the original thousand. They left Washington without their knapsacks; and had marched without even the shelter tents, officers and men alike bivouacking on the ground, wearing the same clothes without a change. The long marches, the exposures, the excitement of battle, and the unaccustomed food had disabled four hundred men; some of them undoubtedly never strong enough to have enlisted, and who should have been rejected by the examining surgeons. The old regiments, who had gradually been hardened to this life, and who had learned to thrive on the soldier's fare, lost comparatively few in this way.

The brigade drills and the manœuvres in line were not so well executed as we expected. There was no practice in firing at a mark; probably from a want of ammunition. From accounts of officers on the field of battle, it certainly is the case in our army that some of the fresh soldiers will fire in the air, and even close their eyes. The Hythe system, as now taught in the English army, and among the rifle clubs, makes excellent marksmen; and the greater part of the instruction is without the use of powder. It is a pity it cannot be more extensively introduced in our army.

One does not expect to find the same training before the enemy as in the great French camps of instruction. It was my good fortune to visit the camp of a portion of the great Crimean army. The privates, besides their military drill, were exercised in running, leaping, fencing, and boxing; and some sergeants were teaching dancing. I followed a regiment of the chasseurs of Vincennes to their field of drill. For an hour or two they went through different manœuvres by the bugle, performing many of the movements at the double quick. Then came a rest; as soon as that was ordered, the fine band of the regiment came forward and struck up a lively dance, to the tune of which several of the privates amused and refreshed themselves by waltzing round the field.

Returning, however, to our picturesque camp in this charming valley. There was no more striking scene than when darkness came on and the thousand camp fires and lights in the tents were all in sight. The rail fences, bought by the thoughtful quartermaster, and paid for as an army supply, were used as fuel; a truly considerate act, for a quartermaster can buy fuel for the army, but he cannot pay damages done to property. This same ground, now covered by our troops, had been camped over by Lee's army; who had also used the fences, not even paying for them in the worthless Confederate scrip. Soon after dark, the bright lights of the signal corps appeared on the mountain north of the Maryland Heights, and messages were sent to McClellan's headquarters. Flags are used in the day, and at night lanterns. The signal officer has two lights; they are held one above the other, the lower one being stationary; moving the upper light to the right means number one; moving the light to the left, number two; moving first to the right and then to the left, number three; by lowering the upper light in front of the under one, a fourth signal is given; and so on. There are about five numbers; and by the different combinations of these five numbers, there is made a great number of signals, which can be read by the officers who have the key. The mode is much the same as that used by our mercantile marine with their signal flags. The signals are given very rapidly, and a few minutes suffice for the sending of the messages.

Evening is the time for talk around the camp fires; and the conversation often turns upon our rebellious brethren. Among our regular officers you meet the classmates and old companions in arms of the rebels, and hear of little traits and peculiarities that only intimate acquaintances can relate. Civilians who had known General Lee at Washington, have spoken of him as very formal, and rather pompous in his manner, giving the impression that he was a man of more show and pretence than abilities. We learned here, however, that, in Texas, or California, where he was for a long time before he took his high position on Scott's staff, he was famous for marching his men without the usual encumbrances of baggage, on the most severe expeditions against the Indians, in the snow and cold of the winter. Stonewall Jackson has always been famed for his peculiarities. When a young man, he was possessed with the idea that he was in danger of having his limbs paralyzed, and he would pump on his arm for many minutes, counting the strokes, and annoyed beyond measure by the interruptions of his companions breaking up his count. Our officers, both regular and volunteer, who have been in actual battle, have a great respect for the rebel leaders and soldiers; they speak very highly of their drill, and believe that straggling exists to a less extent among them, in battle, than with us. From the rebel newspapers I should doubt whether this is the case. One thing we have not considered, which has given the rebels a great advantage in this contest. It is the large number of military colleges in the South; not like our few private schools at the North, but well-endowed academies. In the summer of 1860, immediately before the election of Lincoln, I visited the military academy at Lexington, Virginia. It was supported at the expense of the State, with two hundred and more pupils, coming from the different counties in proportion to their population. They were practised in the actual firing of cannon and mortars; and every afternoon were drilled as infantry for about two hours, much of the time at the double quick. The principal was a graduate of West Point; and he was assisted by a respectable board of instructors. A good civil and military education, after the mode of instruction at West Point, was afforded to the students. This institution had been in existence for years; and one can readily appreciate the advantage that Virginia has in this war from the graduates of this school. Alabama and several other of the Southern States have similar colleges; while we at the North have been obliged to educate all our volunteer officers by actual service.

The morning Stuart with his cavalry left Chambersburg, we rode forth for the battle field of the Antietam. We noticed the disappearance of some of the camps of the infantry brigades. We knew of the patrolling of the cavalry along the road we were pursuing, and found the picket guards farther out, and passes and countersigns necessary where before we went unchallenged. We were several hours in getting to the battle field, and stopped to get some refreshments at a large brick farmhouse, where the battle on the left began. The hospital flag was still flying over the building, though no patients had been there for a day or two. Twenty-seven died in that one farmhouse from wounds received in that bloody fight. On the night of the battle, cows, sheep, poultry, and fences disappeared before our cold and hungry troops. But since then, though the house was in the neighborhood of several camps, the old lady and her daughters, who alone were at home, had been undisturbed, except by the small pilferings of stragglers.

The great battle has been so well described by the correspondents of the newspaper press, and by those who were over the field before we were, that I shall only mention a few incidents to which our attention was called. The principal contest was on the right, west of the Antietam river. Here Hooker with his army corps began the battle, and fought so long and splendidly. Both armies crowded their forces to this part of the field. Sumner, whose troops had been with their belts on since three in the morning, brought up his large corps, drawn up in three columns, forty paces apart, to reënforce Hooker's hard-pressed soldiers, who were retreating before the fresh and overwhelming reënforcements of the enemy. In less than an hour, the whole of Sumner's corps was swept back, broken and entirely routed, and never appeared in the field again; the column in the rear not being in position to fire a gun, but losing as many men as those in front.

The manner in which General Sumner brought his troops into action has been severely criticized, even by officers of his own corps; whether justly or not, it is difficult to decide. No commander was more confided in by his soldiers than Sumner. 'He has risen from the ranks, and been through all the grades of the service,' 'He knows how to treat his men,' were expressions constantly heard. General Hooker's reputation as a fighting general was admitted everywhere; his coup d'œil of the battle field was represented as most excellent.

It was also on the right that the desperate fighting in the woods and the deadly struggle at close quarters in the cornfield with such fearful loss of life took place. An officer who was on the battle fields of Magenta and Solferino, says that the scene here was much more horrible. Many spoke of the scenes they saw with a shudder. They could not throw off the impression made by the masses of wounded and dead; the wounded often lying neglected and helpless under the dead, sometimes crushed to death by the wheels of our own artillery.

Our left at Antietam was far off from the right: in these days of guns of long range the line of battle is longer than it was formerly. At Waterloo the English occupied a front of less than two miles. In this battle ours was about four miles. In the battle of Solferino the engagement extended for eighteen miles.

The contest on the left was fought by General Burnside with only one army corps, the ninth. The battle at this place was a most gallant affair, but has excited less attention than the bloody fight on the right. In the dusty, tiresome march through Maryland, in the skirmishes in and around Frederick, during the glorious hearty welcome our troops received in that old town, the advance, consisting of both Hooker's and Reno's army corps, had been commanded by Burnside. With them he had fought the successful and brilliant battle of South Mountain, coming to us so gratefully after the disastrous repulse and retreat of Pope. Reno had unfortunately fallen, and General Burnside took command of his corps: it was his old force from North Carolina, increased by General Cox's Kanawha troops, and some new regiments, in all a little short of twenty thousand men. On the morning of the battle, Burnside took his station on the east side of the Antietam, in a field overlooking the country on the other side of the river. The gathering of his staff to their breakfast brought the shells of the enemy in their midst, and compelled a change of position to the rear of some haystacks. On the same hill was placed a formidable battery of rifled cannon, throwing twenty-pound shot, commanded by Lieutenant Benjamin, of the regular artillery. The guns are so heavy that they each have eight horses to drag them, and the caissons have six. There was unfortunately a short supply of ammunition, and the battery was fired slowly during the day. The guns were well placed and served, and aimed with wonderful accuracy. Shells were planted in two of the enemy's ammunition carts, blowing them to pieces; and the fire of cannon was so hot that it compelled a rebel battery two miles off, coming down a road to get into position, to wheel round and gallop over the hill. Proud, indeed, were the Lieutenant's men of their exploits on that day, and wonderful stories they told of their famous battery.

The Antietam in front of Burnside was deep, not fordable, flowing in the bottom of a charming valley, and overshadowed by trees. There was a solid stone bridge over it, with three arches, rising picturesquely in the centre, with stone parapets on the sides, the parapets spreading at both ends of the structure. One would almost imagine that it was an old Italian bridge transported to our wooden-building land. The side of the valley held by the rebel troops rises sharply, not densely wooded, but covered by large trees thickly placed, as in an old English park. Along the top of this ridge ran a solid stone wall, thicker and of heavier stones than any we saw in the neighborhood. Where the wall ended rifle pits had been dug. Behind the massive trunks, and in the branches of the old trees, behind this wall and in the pits, were crowded the sharpshooters of the rebels. The ascent from the bridge out of the valley on the enemy's side, was too steep for a straight road up the ridge. If ever a bridge could be defended, that should have been; the only disadvantage the rebels were under was that they could not sweep it with artillery.

Our left had vainly attempted to cross the bridge; twice had they been repulsed. On the right our troops were hard pressed; much of the ground gained in the morning had been lost; Hooker was wounded, Sumner's corps routed, Mansfield killed, and his corps beaten back. Then McClellan ordered Burnside to take the bridge, and hold it at any cost. Burnside sent some troops farther down the river, where it was fordable. He called up one of his old brigades that had been with him in North Carolina, saying, if any brigade could take the bridge, that one would. It was composed of the 51st New York, 51st Pennsylvania, 21st Massachusetts, and a Rhode Island regiment; on their colors were inscribed, 'Roanoke,' 'Newbern,' two of our most glorious victories. With these veteran troops was the 35th Massachusetts, a new regiment that had left home only a month before, but who nobly did their part. Down went the 51st Pennsylvania in column in the advance, at the run, shouting and crowding and firing as they hurried across the bridge, bringing down the rebels from the trees, suffering themselves, but never halting. They crossed and deployed on the other side. Next came the 35th Massachusetts, over the bridge, up the valley, then forming in line of battle on the top of the small hill commanding the stream. The enemy were drawn up before them, quite a distance off, on the top of the next hill. Every inch of ground between was commanded by the rebel fire; but our brave fellows charged on up this hill, driving the foe before them: they did not halt there, for another still higher hill, which could now for the first time be seen farther on, rose up before them. Nothing daunted, they followed up their charge, and drove the enemy from this hill, and took this most commanding position. There they halted, close to Sharpsburg, almost in the rear of the rebels. Some of our troops even penetrated to Sharpsburg itself, and were taken prisoners. A short distance farther would have cut off the enemy's direct retreat to the Potomac. Rebel troops were seen hurrying on the road to the river. Our men were now fired upon by artillery, and attacked by fresh bodies of infantry coming up, as the enemy say in their account, from Harper's Ferry. Our brave fellows, however, stood their ground, waiting for reënforcements, which Burnside called for. But McClellan, unfortunately, dared not throw in his reserves; his object had probably been gained in making a diversion from the hard contested field on our right. Our gallant fellows had to stand there unsupported until their ammunition gave out; they fired their sixty rounds of ammunition, collecting all they could from their dead and wounded comrades, and then began to retreat. Benjamin's battery of artillery was also short of ammunition, and could not support them. Our brave boys only retreated to the next hill, not to the hill above the Antietam, and then lay on their arms during the night, and there they stayed during the next day, expecting the order to advance.

Little mounds of earth, covering fallen heroes, point out the course of our soldiers all the way from this side of the Antietam to the top of the farthest hill. Here our men were so much more exposed than the rebels that our loss was greater than theirs. On the right the rebel loss was much the larger.

In the battle beyond the river, the Hawkins Zouaves, another of the regiments distinguished in North Carolina, captured a rebel battery at the point of the bayonet. In the rebel account we are told how the brave General Toombs, with a whole brigade, retook the battery and defeated this single regiment, which they magnify into an immense force.

General McClellan, with all his knowledge and great skill and success in defensive warfare, as shown in his Peninsular campaign, after our defeat at Gaines's Mill, is wanting in the rapidity of comprehension and audacity which are necessary components of the highest military talent. He waits for too many chances, and fears any risk.

In the battle of Antietam, he had fifteen thousand fresh men under Fitz John Porter in the centre. The enemy had probably used their last soldier, for the correspondent of the Charleston Courier, who has given the best rebel account of the battle, impliedly states that they had no reserves left. Ignorant of our unused troops, he laments the want of a few more rebel men, and says, that if only five thousand of their stragglers, who were on the way to Winchester, had been present, a most decisive rebel victory would have been obtained. If McClellan had added Fitz John Porter's reserve to Burnside's soldiers, he would have had nearly thirty-five thousand men flanking the enemy, already beaten, and threatening their retreat across the Potomac. Who knows what those fresh men might not have done? Many think that the doubtful victory would have ended in the most brilliant decided success, and the stone bridge of Antietam would have stood in history by the side of Arcola and Lodi. But let us be thankful for what we did achieve: never should the nation forget how a retreating, discouraged, defeated, demoralized, and even mutinous army, that had suffered terribly in killed and wounded, and lost prisoners and large numbers of cannon and material, was again reformed, and marched triumphantly against a victorious foe; achieved on Sunday the brilliant victory of South Mountain, and on Wednesday fought the bloody fight of Antietam. There we captured cannon, small arms, and standards, and lost none. Many have forgotten that ever since spring the rebels have boasted that the war was to be carried within our territory; that they had begun this programme; and that General Lee in entering Maryland had issued a boasting proclamation, promising to redeem it from a hated tyranny. If he had succeeded, and defeated McClellan, as he had beaten Pope between Manassas and Washington, we had no reinforcements or forts to prevent his march to Philadelphia. McClellan's presence stirred the common soldier as Napoleon's did, and it was this unbounded enthusiasm which he excited, that saved the nation when he took command at Washington. I know of nothing that made me more indignant than the folly of some ladies who, among his soldiers on the Potomac, decried and denounced him as an imbecile. What treachery can be worse than the attempt to destroy the confidence of the soldiers in their leader, when their lives depend upon his judgment and skill, and there can be only dejection and despair when that judgment and skill are doubted.

Upon our return from the battle field to Pleasant Valley, we heard that orders to McClellan to advance had come from Washington. The only answers to inquiries when the advance would take place, were ominous shakings of the head or shrugs of the shoulders, which were indicative of anything but belief in a speedy movement. We also heard of the appointment of General Burnside to the command of three army corps, the precursor of a greater command yet to come. We have in our new commander-in-chief a general who has an implicit belief that our cause is just, and a trust in Providence that he will make the just cause victorious. In General McClellan we had also a general who believed in Providence, and who has always shown great reverence in his writings. General McClellan is reticent. You can, however, tell somewhat of the opinion of the head of the house from his children; and judging from the tone of belief among the General's military family, from that long delay after Antietam, it was pretty evident that in his opinion the South cannot be subdued, and that the question between us was a matter of boundary. With General Burnside we have no such belief. His faults, if they are faults, are those of the bold general, not of the Fabian order. At Newbern he brought at once into the fight every soldier he had, not keeping one in reserve; and he gained the battle by his audacious policy. And it is the wonder to this day of every one who has been over the battle field, that the enemy should have been beaten. With all this boldness, he is a modest man; twice before having refused the chief command: once when it was offered to him at the time Pope was appointed; again when McClellan took it before Washington. Of a commanding figure, every inch a soldier, one cannot look upon him and his kindly eye without instant admiration. His modest way of riding among the men, alone or attended by a single orderly, will make him beloved by our republican soldiers. He was so then, and 'Old Burn,' as they familiarly called him, was everywhere heartily received. By the way, McClellan's nickname on the Peninsula was 'George,' and not 'Little Mac,' as is generally supposed.

General Burnside, we believe, is a good judge of men. The generals he selected for his North Carolina expedition, though previously unknown, and but captains in the service, have already distinguished themselves and justified his choice. General Foster, now commanding the department of North Carolina, has shown himself an able, active general. All who have been connected with him, speak highly of him. Though not a Massachusetts man, he has a peculiar penchant for Massachusetts troops: he was first at Annapolis, and picked out for the first brigade the Massachusetts soldiers. Recently, through the Governor, he has obtained some eight or ten more regiments, and in some way or other he has the crack ones.

General Reno, who was Burnside's second brigadier, has made a reputation that will live forever in his country's history. At the battle of Roanoke the little general, but a month before a captain of ordnance, stood up fearlessly in the swamp amid his men, when they were lying down by his direction, and coolly gave his orders and encouraged them, entirely regardless of the balls flying round him on every side. In Pope's retreat, and amid disaster and defeat, he acquired new reputation by his skill, energy, and daring. A Virginian by birth, he was truly a loyal man; and, unlike some generals of our army corps, obeyed orders, and did all that could be done for the country and the general in command. His testimony that Pope's dispositions were good, if he had only been obeyed, should weigh much in that general's favor. After the victory of South Mountain, he was reconnoitring the enemy, when he fell by a random shot, which came, so those who were in the action say, from some soldier of our force. Lyon, Kearny, Reno, gone! Have we three such men left?

General Park, an accomplished soldier, who particularly distinguished himself at the battle of Newbern, was General Burnside's third brigadier. The country will feel renewed confidence from his remaining with our new commander as chief of staff.

On the morning we left the camp, a squad from a new regiment just arrived had been detailed for the guard at headquarters; one of the sentries was smoking his pipe as he marched up and down; another, who should have been patrolling his beat, was seated on the ground, cleaning his musket with a piece of wash leather he pulled from his pocket. The General was not near to stop these unsoldierly occupations. We came to the opinion that the boys in that regiment had never been to a country muster; but they were stout fellows and looked like fight.

At Sandy Hook, on the day of our return, we had to wait until nine in the evening for the train to Baltimore. Stuart's cavalry had been over the road in the morning, making their escape into Virginia. They dared not stay to do mischief; our forces were at all the important points. Considering the immense supplies in the rear of the army, Stuart did very little harm; his eight hundred fresh horses were not worth the risk he ran. If he could have seized our supplies at Monocacy Station, and burnt the bridge there, he would have inflicted a serious loss upon the army. The nature of his raid seemed well understood, and there was no apprehension then of the enemy's holding the railroad; for the train from Baltimore had passed over the restored rails a few hours after the retreating troopers. At every important point we found soldiers, and near Frederick we were glad to hear that seven of the sick troopers, used up by their hard service, had fallen behind and been taken. We learned that General Pleasanton with some of our cavalry was in pursuit, and there were several stories about an engagement: the firing of cannon had been heard. General Pleasanton at that time was held in very little esteem, and seemed to have particularly disgusted those who had served under him, and was often cited as an example of McClellan's lack of judgment in men. He appears since to have acquired a newspaper reputation for ability and energy. I only hope that it is deserved, and that the opinions we heard so often were not well founded.

We arrived at the Baltimore depot at four in the morning amid a rain, and found it occupied by some one or two thousand soldiers, standing and sitting about in their blue overcoats with their arms stacked. Not a carriage could be obtained, and so, shouldering our bag in military fashion, we marched for the Eutaw House. At the door was stationed a guard, marking it as the headquarters of Major-General Wool. We passed by unchallenged; in our bag, however, we had rebel ammunition: a loaded shell fired at our men as they were crossing the stone bridge at Antietam. Fortunately the fuse had gone out, and it remained a trophy for one of the despicable Down-East Yankees. We heard the old General was still the centre of attraction to the pretty secesh ladies who had friends or relatives in durance vile in Fort McHenry. The veteran hero, though rich, wears a uniform that shows the marks of service. That, however, does not prevent the constant presents of delicious fruit and beautiful flowers, and invitations to drive to the fort, from those bewitching belles of Baltimore: whereat some strong Union people grumble loudly.

AMERICAN DESTINY.

II.

The law under consideration is exemplified in the social, industrial, and political development of the United States. There is a manifest difference, however, between the history of our civilization and that of Europe, though not in the least affecting the integrity of the law. The people of our nation were not derived directly from a rude and primitive condition, as were those of the Old World. The history of our civilization is, in its origin, coördinate with European civilization in the seventeenth century, after modern intellect had been fairly aroused, and the national organizations had been quite fully developed. The chaos and barbarism which the history of European civilization presents, and the play of antagonizing forces through the long period of centuries, resulting in some degree of political order and unity, does not belong, except as an introduction, to the history of American civilization. Ours is a branch from the European, after it had been growing for several hundred years.

During the period which intervened between the Declaration of American Independence and the adoption of the Constitution of the United States, there was no formal and permanent bond of union between the several States; it was provisional,—they were held together by outside pressure and a common interest in the cause of independence. The settlement of a general government for all the States was a crisis, not only in the affairs of this country, but of the whole civilized world, as we believe the future will most fully reveal. To the responsible statesmen of that day, this was a period of intense solicitude, such as we can realize only by an effort of mind to place ourselves in their situation, and bring before us the magnitude of the objects to be attained, and the difficulties to be overcome. There was then, as now, a diversity of interests to be harmonized; but there was one interest, which, in its political relations, requires to be characterized by a stronger term than that of 'diversity.' Between chattel slavery and free labor there is 'irrepressible' antagonism, and there could be no real union—no blending of the twain; but the gulf was bridged, under the pressure of necessity, as the wisdom of the times could best devise. It was, indeed, well done. Union was the great object to be accomplished—it was the highest, the most comprehensive principle that could enter into the motives of political action—it was even a necessity of the current civilization, and must needs subordinate all minor principles and interests; and we owe a debt of gratitude to those who so nobly wrought this glorious Union out of colonial chaos and isolation.

The instrument of this Union has been characterized by well-meaning, but one-idea minds, as a 'covenant with death, and an agreement with hell,' simply because it effected the union of free with slave States. This method of characterizing the Constitution of our country—as noble a document for its time and place as the world has ever seen—can well be excused, since it has no doubt been done in utter obliviousness of the importance of the principle of political unitization. The original consummation of this Union was a great step in political progress; it was an achievement of the master principle of political movement; and God wills that no part of the advantage then gained in the struggle of Destiny shall ever be given up!

But while unity is thus exemplified in the history of our Government, the phenomenon of differentiation is also manifest. The functions of government have greatly multiplied since its first organization; the 'division of labor' process has been going on, and new departments and bureaus have been established. While I write, the expediency of another department, that of agriculture, is being agitated in Congress. The Department of the Interior has been quite recently created, and new bureaus in this department, and in others, are being created from time to time, by act of Congress, to meet new wants in the administration of our Government. And what is true in this respect of the General Government is, also, true of the State Governments; for there, too, do we find the development of new functions, and the creation of new official organs to execute the same.

This growth of the country at large, from which these new demands on the Government arise, is to be seen very distinctly in the industrial and educational elements of society. While these interests increase in magnitude and variety, and the people are becoming more concerned therein, the Government assumes a responsibility in regard thereto, which can only be discharged by the multiplication of the administrative appliances. These new governmental activities arise from the popular will, as moulded and expressed through the more intelligent and enterprising of its actors. They choose to have it so. It is found convenient, in the promotion of certain general interests, to appeal to a power which is presumed to embody the elements of order and authority in the execution of its will. In the construction of railroads and telegraphs, capitalists must coöperate with the Government in relation to questions of right, which, in many cases, can only be settled by a regularly constituted tribunal. State agricultural societies appeal to State Governments for coöperation, and when received, the industrial interests of the country are advanced thereby. We all know what State Governments have done for the cause of education. Sections of country which would at this hour have been in a state of almost semi-barbarism have—thanks to our educational policy—been redeemed from their prejudices against intelligence and education, and been made to step into line with the advancing columns of civilization. The same civilizing influences, precisely, have been brought to bear, by the active part which Government has taken in the improvement of all the means of travel, trade, and the transmission of intelligence. The intelligent and active few have thus advanced the interests of the many. In districts of country which have been without the channels of commerce except in a very rude condition, and where the enterprise of the people was inadequate to their improvement, the Government has reached out its strong arm and redeemed them from their primitive rudeness, thereby promoting the physical condition, the enlightenment, and the culture of the people. There are plenty of instances on record, in which improvements of this kind—of roads, for example—have been made against the will and in spite of the opposition of the people most to be benefited thereby; and had they not been related under the same government to communities more intelligent and enterprising than themselves, they would have remained in an isolated and semi-barbarous condition.

Now, while we readily discern the increase in the objects and in the machinery of government, we cannot so readily discern the abatement of governmental interference with the private affairs of the individual, as in governments of longer standing. There has not been time for great changes in this respect; and then, in the earliest legislation of our country there was comparatively so little that was obnoxious to individual freedom, that there has been less occasion for the change in question. The Blue Laws of Connecticut are proverbial for their intermeddling with private life. There has been no change in this respect so marked since the organization of our Government as there was before; but so far as there has been any, it is in favor of the exemption of the individual, in ordinary times, from legal interference. The entire atmosphere of American society is becoming more liberal as general education advances; and this, in turn, acts upon the legislative and executive functions of the Government, to make the laws and the execution of the same more acceptable to a cultured people. The 'Maine Law,' earnest and benevolent as it was in purpose, and to all seeming so obviously founded in the right of society to protect itself, could not be sustained against this tendency in government to let the individual alone in the affairs of his private life.

We have observed that there is a concentration of different industrial and commercial functions in different sections of the country, whereby these sections become dependent upon each other, and the unity of the whole, to a certain extent, made inevitable. Now, we insist that political economy and the greatest well-being of all require that the political jurisdiction should, as far as possible, be commensurate with that commercial, industrial, and social dependence which works itself out to a large degree of fulfilment in spite of the obstructions interposed by the contractedness and isolation of political organization.

As we have seen, this dependence of one industrial section upon another, and of one commercial centre upon another, as the result of commercial and industrial specialization, is becoming more and more marked as a development of human progress. All this increases the need for more extensive political organization, while at the same time it makes it possible.

It will readily be perceived that since industrial and commercial development is necessitating dependence and unity, it is equally true that the natural varieties of soil and climate are, also, conditions of like dependence and unity. When these diversities of soil in different sections are fully developed, and the exchange of products readily made through improved commercial facilities, and human wants multiplied by means of civilized culture, agricultural specialization creates the demand, not for political division and isolation, but for more extensive organization. That New England manufactures is no reason that she should separate her government from that of the other States, but just the reverse. That the Middle States are more distinctively a mining region, and the great West agricultural, is no reason that their general government should be distinct, but precisely the reverse. That the South produces cotton, rice, and sugar, is no reason for her seceding from the Union, but exactly the reverse. These diversified interests, we repeat, create interrelation and dependence, unitizing the commercial and industrial polity; and the political organization should, as far as possible, be coextensive therewith. There are physical necessities which prevent the formation and maintenance of a comprehensive political organization in the earlier stages of civilization, but these never have obtained in the United States, and every hour's improvement carries us farther beyond them.

All the results of a progressive civilization are constantly complicating the dependence and interrelation of various sections of our country. Roads, railroads, canals, and lines of telegraph, by their connections and intersections, are so many bonds of union between the various districts of our country—so many bonds of union between the various States of the confederacy—and forbid its dissolution. Even Nature conspires with civilization to the same end. The great valleys and rivers running north and south are so many natural ties, which the most incorrigible perverseness, on the part of man, could alone prevent from performing the office to which they seem so happily adapted in the play of the civilized elements.

As we have seen in our brief view of Europe, greater political unitization has been the result of growth in civilization. In the United States, all natural, commercial, and industrial bonds of union are becoming more fully developed. This evinces the direction of progress.

What, in the light of this view, are we to think of the doctrine of 'secession'?—of secession, that political dogma of recent development, which, if made practical, would destroy all political unity of greater compass than a State—a State, the idol of Southern political worship. It would break any confederacy into fragments, and prevent the consummation of those great unities which an advancing civilization demands. This doctrine of 'secession' would remand us back to the condition of affairs in Europe during the twelfth century, before commerce, the Crusades, and the waking up of intelligence had commenced the movement of national organization. The Southern States have a barbarian institution in their midst, but, not satisfied with that, they would inaugurate the practical operation of a new political doctrine, which must introduce still another element of barbarism, and interpose an additional obstacle to the progress of civilization. Shall this be? It is opposed to the political tendency of the times; and the common sense of mankind should forbid the acceptance of a political solecism in the organization of government, which virtually annuls the unity and integrity of the government itself.

There are crises, however, in human development, when the movement is rapidly set forward; and others, when it may be as suddenly arrested or thrown back, requiring long periods to regain the lost ground, preparatory to a new advance. Our Union, only a brief while since, appeared to be upon the point of irreparable rupture; the division of this great Union into minor geographical districts, like the European monarchies, seemed to be imminent. The determination of the South to secede; a large portion of the influential press at the North pleading their cause; Buchanan favoring secession; many in the North, then, and for a long time previous, in favor of a 'peaceable separation;' but—thanks to the blind impetuosity of 'Southern chivalry'—with the fall of Sumter, and the inauguration of the war, the only hope for this Union revived! Wicked or foolish people have said that the bombardment of Sumter was the death-knell of the Union;—we believe it was just the reverse;—as the turning point of a great crisis, it signalled the birth of a new era. It threw the trimming and temporizing politicians of the North off their old tracks, and tore their platforms from under them; their antipathies were suddenly neutralized; their prejudices vanished; they were unexpectedly floating anew on the sea of public sentiment; the opinions of influential men were subject to a new ordeal; and the views of many an entire clique, faction, and party were revolutionized in a day. Northern pride was wounded; Anglo-Saxon energy was aroused; there was a demand for determination and 'pluck,' and the result is known to all. Secession, in the Free States, was suddenly transformed; there was a grand uprising for the vindication of a great principle of political development; and nearly a million of armed men of all parties are now in the field; and God grant that they may be able to overcome the abettors of a barbarian policy!

But if the cause of patriotism and civilization should fail in this struggle, what will be the consequences? Standing armies, stronger governments, leagues, and ruptures, internecine wars, European interference. Let this division of our once happy country be consummated now, and there can be no reunion for ages. The Southern nation recognized by European Governments, treaties and alliances formed, and we are involved in European complications through which the separation will be perpetuated. And this disunion made permanent, others will develop themselves, and in time be consummated. It is the interest of the reigning dynasties in Europe to see our nation dismembered: the South would be our rival; and we should not have power to enforce union hereafter. When a politico-geographical weakness is developed along the Rocky Mountains, the Pacific States will not be without ambitious demagogues to attempt the establishment of an independent organization on the Pacific. Another fracture may be developed along the Alleghanies, and the great agricultural West may set up for itself among the nations. New England may be seized with a like madness, and unworthily aspire to a separate national existence. With all these petty nations on this continent, there must be standing armies, leagues, and complications, as in Europe. Diplomacy, with its intrigues, and wars to maintain the 'balance of power,' will make up the great body of national history and absorb those energies which should be employed in advancing the means of human well-being.

But we will not speculate upon probabilities so remote. We will presume the success of rebellion, and one nation south, another north. The evil would still be very great. There must be armed thousands maintained by the two Governments to be ready for war at any moment. Two such nations, even if both were free, and still less with slavery in one of them, could not exist by the side of each other without frequent broils and collisions. Standing armies exhaust the resources of nations and retard the progress of civilization by a double result. They withdraw able-bodied men from the productive energies of the country, and are at the same time a tax upon the industrial forces which remain. The enormous daily expense of the present war must give us some idea of the cost of maintaining a standing army of two or three hundred thousand men even in times of peace. This has done a great deal to retard the progress of Europe; and that we, as a nation, have heretofore been free from this encumbrance, is doubtless one of the reasons why we have made such rapid strides in so much that makes a nation great and happy. But standing armies imply war, and the international wars of Europe have done much to exhaust her resources and paralyze her prosperity. Guizot says—and we may see it in history for ourselves—that 'for nearly three centuries, foreign relations form the most important part of history.' Foreign relations, wars, treaties, alliances, alone occupy the attention and fill the page of history. Sad result of the political divisions of a continent! Unhappy fruits of maintaining the balance of power among neighboring nations! Let this continent be warned! And now is the crisis when this warning needs most to be heeded. And even if this critical juncture should be safely passed, we have need to guard against others, and these truths should be universally recognized as elements of our national preservation. We may profit by the shipwreck of others, to avoid the rock on which they split. There are causes clearly discernible in the history of Europe, for the divisions of that continent, which do not now, and never have obtained here. Her political institutions were developed out of the chaos of barbarism, and she had to unite smaller jurisdictions into larger ones; and she did this as well as the status of civilization would permit at the period when national organization was effected.

The facilities of intercourse between a people, for the transmission of intelligence, for travel and transportation—those accompaniments of civilization which bring remote sections of country near each other and bind them together; the resemblance or the difference of languages spoken; the antipathies, prejudices, sympathies of the peoples—all these are elements which go to determine the geographical extent of a nation. Original difference of language, local prejudices, the want of civilization, contributed to limit the European nationalities to the small extent of territory which, for the most part, they occupy. These causes have not operated against us. Local distinctions on account of language do not even obtain here. There are no real causes to contract the geographical boundaries of our Government; while, on the other hand, the constant increase of facilities for the commercial and social intercourse of one section with another, and the specializations of the agricultural, manufacturing, and commercial interests, in the creation of dependence between different sections of the country, demand, in the name of science, common sense, justice, and the good of the people, that this Government shall remain one and undivided.

We cannot, therefore, afford to allow the present or any other rupture to become permanent, and entail upon ourselves and our children all the disadvantages and calamities incident thereto. It would not be wise to prepare the political stage of this country for the reënaction of the tragedies of Europe. Better any sacrifice than this. Even if we should lose great battles, or if European interference should threaten, it would be better to rally the people anew even to the raising and equipment of millions of men, and sustain the war at this enormous cost, rather than entail division and its necessary calamities on the future political life of this continent. This war is costing immensely in men and property; but if, thereby, the integrity of the Union can be maintained, it will be an economy both in men and means, if only a brief period of the future be taken into the account. We are often reduced to a choice of evils. War is a great evil, but it may prevent others still greater. The indiscriminate arming of slaves and the spread of incendiary fires would be great calamities, but nevertheless justifiable, if the only means of selfdefence, or of preventing still greater and more enduring calamities. But there need be no violation of the ethics of war, no infringement of the rights of humanity. The North is strong in its natural resources, strong in the justice of its cause: it has risen to vindicate the cardinal law of civilization, and by this shall it conquer. There appeared to Constantine a vision of the cross, with the motto, 'By this conquer.' Science has descended in these last days to dwell among mankind. In her hand is a scroll which she unfolds before the nations, and they read, 'Unity, the consummation of social and political destiny.' Thereupon, turning to our nation in the hour of trial, she says: 'The time is approaching when the principle of unitization must sweep a wider circle, and you are chosen to inaugurate this new era in the destiny of nations. Thus far you have done well; be true to the work so happily begun; carry it unflinchingly through this ordeal, and you will be the greatest Power for good upon the earth. There must be an extension of political organization—a widening of the sphere of political unity; and through your example and influence will the nations be gathered into a larger fold.' And pointing to the scroll, she adds: 'Let 'Union' be eternally your motto; by this conquer!'

If we should apply no other than a superficial interpretation to history, overlooking the great laws by which development proceeds, and thence conclude that the world is to follow doggedly in the footsteps of the past, we should anticipate a future far less beautiful in grand results than Destiny has in store for the generations to come.

Are we to have the Empire of Rome or of Charlemagne over again? In the Roman Empire there were no common interests; no representation; no communication among the people; no intersection of the country by the networks of roads—only great military roads leading from province to province; no specialization of industrial and commercial interests; no civilized dependence of one part on another; no natural ties as yet developed to their real significance between the several countries of the Roman Empire: it was held together by the strong and despotic arm of Rome. The Empire of Charlemagne embraced the territory of Middle and Western Europe, inhabited by barbarous peoples, isolated, warlike, and speaking different languages; there were none of the civilized bonds of union; only the genius of Charlemagne held them together; and upon his death the huge fabric he had reared naturally fell to pieces. The Spanish Empire is but another instance showing that geographical and other elements of disconnection must not overbalance those which relate remote sections to each other, and bind them together in a common interest, else dissolution will be the result. In respect to the United States, all these conditions are reversed. Every interest in the natural course of development points to union—demands union, and, in the triumph of justice, shall have union.

Is there anything in the way of this union? Is there a morbid growth—a cause of irritation and disease tending to dissolution? Then, it must be removed. Is ambitious and reckless demagoguism to be apprehended? Then educate the people and diffuse science. But is there not still a worse devil to be cast out? Where slavery is, you cannot educate the people, you cannot diffuse science; and without enlightenment there can be no political justice, since unprincipled demagogues will sway all political destiny. Slavery cannot always exist side by side with freedom; it is the natural enemy of union, the enemy of civilization. Prominent secession leaders have admitted that slavery is the cause of this war, boasting at the same time that the confederate constitution is founded on a scientific distinction of races. Without slavery there could be no sufficient motive for the independent national existence of the South. Had there been no slavery, there had been no civil war. This is, at the present time, the political significance of the institution. There is no safety but in its extinction—so far at least as the border Slave States are concerned, in order to overthrow its power in the United States Senate, to enlarge the sympathies of freedom, and weaken and circumscribe the chances for revolutionary movements which slavery will be ready at any critical moment to precipitate against the Union.

If we have not misinterpreted the law of development, slavery, as it exists in this country, is a morbid political condition, a social disease, which stands in the way of the natural course of social evolution. In this law, therefore, is written the doom of slavery. The enlightened world will not always permit it to blast the fair field of civilization by its poisonous presence.

There is a law of human movement by which predominating conditions extend and perpetuate themselves, overcoming those which are weaker and on the wane. We observed this in our brief survey of the feudal system. Freedom is now in the ascendant, and slavery must go down. And since secession is the child of slavery, and both at war with the cardinal principles of progressive civilization, it is meet that both should fall together.

This war may not directly extinguish slavery, and it may; we do not see the end. But if not directly, we believe the war is, nevertheless, indirectly setting those forces into action which will eventually extinguish the institution. If the 'confederacy' should be destroyed, as, if not saved by foreign intervention, it certainly will be, slavery, if not already dead, will be pent up, and, in that case, will soon die by its own hands.

Immediate interests control us more than those which are remote; interests which affect ourselves, more than those which affect our descendants. Citizens of the Southern States, to save a petty individual interest, are nursing in the bosom of society a malignant canker, which, if let alone, must one day, in the inevitable course of destiny, eat into its vitals. Heroic treatment will alone meet the demands of the case. It must be a surgical operation that will penetrate to the very roots of the invading tumor.

The salvation of the South itself, as well as of the Union, hangs upon the extinction of slavery. Indeed, the South has far more interest than the North in the restoration of political health as the condition of political union; and she would see it so, if slavery had not made her blind. The elimination of slavery would, in the end, be clear gain to her, while she would reap equally with the North the advantages of union, and escape the disadvantages and calamities which, as we have seen, must inevitably follow in the wake of confirmed disunion.

The writer of this article bases his opposition to slavery solely upon politico-scientific grounds; he urges the recognition of a great law of human development, that its bearings on human destiny may be fairly seen, and human endeavor more wisely directed to the achievement of the end 'so devoutly to be wished.' The discussion of American Destiny in all its ramifications would involve the discussion of the ultimate fate of the negro race on this continent; but that is not within the range of our present purpose. We have aimed only to indicate the law of development from the simple to the complex, over which a necessary unity at length prevails; to show that this law obtains in the political as in all other realms; to insist that political unity should enlarge its area as facilities for intercommunication permit, and the interrelation of industrial, commercial, and social interests demand; that the jurisdiction of the political unity should correspond to the extension of general interests, so far as may be possible in the face of physical necessities not yet overcome in the progress of civilization. We would apply the doctrine more especially to the present crisis in American affairs, to enable us to realize that all our sacrifices to maintain the Union are fully warranted by the great principle of human development which is involved in the contest.

If we have rightly interpreted history and the law, these sacrifices are justified by a double consideration. The first, which is negative—to avoid the entanglements, broils, and conflicts of neighboring nations, and the consequent exhaustion of the resources of civilization, through which its progress would necessarily be retarded; the second, which is positive—to maintain a vast political organization on this continent in accordance with the demands of a higher civilization, as the only sure guarantee for the integrity of the 'Monroe doctrine,' and the accomplishment of a great political mission, by reacting upon Europe, and leading her isolated and fragmentary nationalities into a higher unity, involving order, authority, and the economy of power.

It is the selfish interest of the crowned heads of the little nations of Europe to maintain things as they are, with a principality and a palace for each puppet of royalty. Hence their costly machinery for maintaining the 'balance of power.' There may have been a use for this in the ignorance of the masses, when the extension of sovereignty was often but the increase of despotism; but there is no such need in the advanced culture of the people and the progress of civilization. Formerly there was no public sentiment; but, with the rise of civilized methods, it became developed, and it has gradually enlarged its sphere, till, as a writer on dynamical physiology remarks, 'we now hear of the public opinion of Europe.' (Draper.) And we believe that, before this public sentiment, thrones are doomed to topple, and sceptres and diadems to fall, to make way for the more liberal and comprehensive political organizations of an advancing and triumphant civilization. And herein appears a glimpse of the political mission of the American Union, destined itself to become still more comprehensive in the inevitable fluctuation and change of the political elements. It is a hackneyed theme that all the natural features of our country, its mountains, rivers, valleys, lakes, are on a grand scale; it is, therefore, meet that we should lead the civilized world in the movement of political unity.

When Russia shall have more completely filled up the measure of her civilization, and general intelligence shall have secured the liberty of the subject, and laid forever the ghost of political absolutism, it may become the mission of the younger nation to infuse new life into the political system of Europe. With such a nation on the East, and a great continental policy well advanced in the Western World, Middle and Western Europe could hardly maintain its present divided, discordant, and consequently feeble condition: there must be union then, if not before. With Europe thus united, having outgrown the diplomatic intrigues and exhausting wars of jealous and ambitious rulers, the dream of 'universal peace' may realize the inauguration of its fulfilment, and civilization come to have a meaning which, as yet, is folded up in the bosom of prophecy—the clearer prophecy, we believe, of science and history. We are confident that the prestige of the past and the earnest of the future are for us and our cause; that our nation will not be torn to pieces and sunk to the dead level of political imbecility, but will victoriously avouch the integrity of American unity, and gradually gain the advance in the grand march of civilization, and lead the nations for hundreds of years to come!

We may well be proud that we are Americans, and that our lot is cast in these times. Let us never abase our position by the least approach to ignoble compromise; let us shrink from no responsibility; but acquit ourselves as becomes an intelligent people conscious of a noble destiny!

THE BIRTH OF THE LILY.

The Rose had bloomed in Eden. Odors new
Entranced the groves; and iridescent birds,
At this new birth of beauty, sudden rose
In richest chorus, bearing up the balm
Upon their beating wings. The bee had learned
The place of golden sweets, the butterfly
Loved well to dream within those crimson folds,
And Eve had made a garland delicate,
Of feathery sprays and leaves and drooping bells,
And placed the Rose, the queen of bloom, above
The centre of her brow. Thus she bound up
The golden ripples that fell down and broke
O'er her white breast, hiding the bosom buds,
That never yet had yielded up their sweets
To the warm pressure of an infant's lip.
And Eve had bent above the glassy lake,
Smiling upon her picture, pressing close
The soft cheek of the Rose upon her own,
And praising God for beauty and for life.
But now a morn had come more strangely dear
Than Eden yet had known. The sleeping wind
Woke not to stir the fringes of the lake,
Nor shook the odors from the scented plant.
A silver, misty wreath closed fondly down
Above the waveless tide. The insect world
Lay waiting in the leaves, as though a spell
Had hushed Creation; yet expectant thrills
Ran through the silence, for the loaded air
Grew lighter, purer, and the recent Rose
Drooped her proud head in meekness, and the face
Of heaven flushed with burning brilliancy,
Above some coming wonder.
One by one
The beasts and birds of Paradise came down,
With noiseless movement, to the water's edge,
And waited on the margin. Creatures huge,
With honest, liquid eyes, and those that stepped
With cushioned feet and feathered footfall, stole
About the brink, with all the tribe that gave
The forest life. The serpent reared its crest,
Not yet polluted with the valley's dust,
And stood like one with royal gems encrowned;
While beast, and bird, and serpent turned to gaze
Upon each other with inquiring eyes,
And half-bewildered glance.
Then last of all
Came Eve with Adam to the circling rim,
Her fingers grasping roses, and her lip
All beautiful with Love's own witchery.
She stood and noted with admiring look
The strength of Adam's form, the expansive chest,
The sloping muscle, and the sinew knit,
The firm athletic limb, and every grace
Combined and joined in that first, perfect man.
Then Eve, grown humble in her wondrous love
Of Adam's beauty, knelt upon the turf,
While her long hair fell down in shining waves,
And pressed her lip upon his dew-washed feet:
Then with her agitated fingers broke
The foxglove pitcher from the stem, and stooped
To fill it up for him; but quickly drew
Her pearl-white hand away from the still lake,
And held it o'er her heart, with such a look
Of awe and mystery, as if a spell
Was on the water, that she dared not break.
So all was hushed and waiting; when, behold!
A flash of gold shot from the silver East,
A gush of new perfume spread through the grove,
The Rose drooped lower, and the impatient birds,
Loosed from restraint, sang in a strain refined
Of dulcet clearness, such as those young bowers
Had never heard before. The beast crouched down
Upon the velvet turf, the serpent's crown
Flashed richer splendor, and the angel-guard
Whose fearful sword gleamed by the Tree of Life,
His very plumes were tremulous with joy.
Then Eve looked o'er the swelling wave, and, lo!
The lake was overspread with blooming stars,
Or snowy golden-centred cups, that rocked
And spilled the choicest incense. Adam cried,
'The Lily;' but the sweet voice at his side,
Grown tremulous and faint with overjoy,
Could only whisper, 'Purity.' Then quick,
With restless hands, she culled the floral star—
Queen of the wave—emblem of innocence,
And hung it in the lion's matted mane,
And twined it round the serpent's glittering neck;
Thus humoring her fancy in the play
Till half the morning hours had slipped and gone.
Then, startled by the voice she loved so well,
She left the sport, the creatures, and the flowers,
And hastened back with Adam to the trees
Where God was walking in the solemn shade.
O mother frail, thou hast not known a tear!
Thy spirit, clothed in simple innocence,
Wears the true garb of bliss. Not yet thy hour
Of sorrow and departure; nor the pangs
And mystery of motherhood are thine!
And yet, weak one! some day, because of thee,
God's love shall give a Saviour to the world!

WAS HE SUCCESSFUL?

'Do but grasp into the thick of human life! Every one lives it—to not many is it known; and seize it where you will, it is interesting.'—Goethe.

'Successful.—Terminating in accomplishing what is wished or intended.'—Webster's Dictionary.

PART SECOND.

'I have been young and now I am old, and I bear my testimony that I have never found thorough, pervading, enduring morality with any but such as feared God—not in the modern sense, but in the old child-like way. And only with such, too, have I found a rejoicing in life—a hearty, victorious cheerfulness, of so distinguished a kind that no other is to be compared with it.'—Jacobi.

CHAPTER I.

The first part of this narrative naturally closes with the termination of our hero's career at Burnsville, and his establishing himself as a resident of New York.

Up to this period, he has had no great difficulty in making his conduct consistent with his religious professions. He certainly has striven with a species of conscientiousness to do so, and we repeat, he has achieved his object.

Now, however, he is embarking on a very different sea from the quiet, placid waters of his village life. Here, Hiram Meeker, you will encounter many and frequent temptations to do wrong. For you are soon to commence on your "own account," and then you must prepare for that mortal struggle, in which none, without the grace of God to aid them, can come off victors.

Hiram understands this: that is, he has been educated to believe it. Surely he enjoys saving grace. Who more constant at church and evening meetings; who prays longer and more vigorously than he?

Let me repeat that Hiram has a strong desire to enter the kingdom of Heaven, and thinks that all the chances are in favor of his doing so. But this desire is of the same nature as his wish to become rich. It is founded on the determination to promote the fortunes of the individual me, here and hereafter. It leads him to treat as a principle the statement of fact, that "honesty is the best policy;" and his policy is—Self. He can practically master the theory of cause and effect as to what is going on here. And since he believes he will secure a good position in the world to come by strict observance of the "ordinances," he considers himself all right there.

It is with entire complacency, then, that Hiram Meeker sets sail in New York. He is young, and, as the word goes, handsome; with good health, strong nerves, an enduring frame, and excellent constitution. He is well educated, and has a remarkable capacity for affairs, with sufficient experience in business to qualify him for any mercantile career he chooses to enter on. Moreover, in all the relations of life, he professes to be governed by the highest possible principle—Christian principle; and claims to be, indeed really is, at least theoretically, a believer in the truths of our holy religion. Why is it, then, reader, you have already taken such a prejudice against Hiram? For I know, as it were instinctively, that you are prejudiced against him. Indeed, I confess that in preparing his history for the press, I have unconsciously permitted certain comments to creep in, indicating my own feelings toward the young man. But, in fact, I could not help it, especially when I came to narrate Hiram's course toward Sarah Burns.

But here in New York, I begin to feel a painful interest for young Meeker. He is at the "parting of the ways." Up to now, there has been no great strain on his moral sense, while he has not been altogether insensible to humanizing influences. He has been thus far in the service of others, and had wisdom enough to understand it was best for him to serve with fidelity. Thus, his sense of duty did not conflict with his interests, and he won golden opinions from all.

Probably, when he left Burnsville, but one person thoroughly knew him—that person was Sarah Burns. For it is given to those whose hearts are honestly devoted, in time to learn and fully comprehend the nature of the hearts brought in contact with theirs.

The young ladies universally recalled their delightful flirtations with Hiram with a sort of pleasurable regret, in which no angry feelings toward him were mingled. Even Mary Jessup looked back with a sentimental sigh, but not with any feeling of bitterness, to the period when she was so happy with "young Meeker, boarding at their house." The Hawkins girls still severally had their secret hopes in the future. [As to the widow Hawkins, I cannot say.] But nobody understood the young man except Sarah Burns. He knew that, and when he drove away from her door, he felt he was found out.

I am getting from my subject, which is Hiram's dangerous situation, now that he has reached New York. One thing much to be regretted is that he has resolved, at least for the present, to adjure society, in his entire devotion to his main purpose. This is an alarming feature. For notwithstanding, in his intercourse with the sex, he had sought entirely his own pleasure, still it was not without its qualifying influences. His mind was diverted from a perpetual thought of how he should get rich, and nature (I mean the nature common to us all) was permitted to have a certain sway.

When Hiram stepped foot in the metropolis, he cut off these diverting elements. He decided, and he had long and carefully considered it, that in the strife in which he was soon to enter, he should require all his time, all his faculties. For this reason, he determined to accept Mr. Eastman's offer of board and lodging at his house, albeit his wife was shrewish and generally disagreeable. He no longer permitted the gay throng in Broadway to move his nerves or excite his senses. And thus all these secondary impulses and emotions and sentiments yielded to the one main controlling purpose.

Yes, Hiram Meeker, I feel a painful interest in your situation. I see that, once entered on your career, there will be no departure or deviation or pause in it. As in metal poured into the mould, which, while it remains in a fluid state, is capable of being converted into other forms, but which, after a time, fixes and becomes unchangeable,—so, in the life of every human being, there is a period when the aims and purposes are fixed and the character is settled forever. With some, this comes earlier, with others later; but it comes inevitably to all of us.

It seems to me Hiram is fast approaching this epoch, and this is why my interest in him becomes painful. For after this—but I will not anticipate.

CHAPTER II.

The first thing which Hiram undertook after getting settled at his boarding place, was to decide what church to attend. This was a matter which required a great deal of deliberation, and week after week he visited different churches of his own faith.

Mr. Bennett, with his family, went to an Episcopal church. He took the liberty, one day, of flatly advising his cousin to cut Presbyterianism, and go with him.

'The fact is, Hiram, I can't stand the blue lights; they make a hypocrite of you, or a sniveller. Now, I don't profess to be a good person, but I think, after all, my neighbors know about where to find me. As to the Episcopalians, they give us good music, good prayers, and short sermons. They don't come snooping about to find out whether you go sometimes to the theatre, or if any of your family practise the damnable sin of dancing at parties. They mind their own business, and leave you to mind yours.'

'What is their business?' asked Hiram.

Mr. Bennett, taken a little aback, hesitated a moment; then he replied, 'Why, to preach and read the service, and perform church duties generally.'

'Well,' said Hiram, 'I always thought it was a part of a minister's duty to look after the spiritual welfare of every one of his church, and to visit the families, and converse with all the members.'

'You forget you're not in the country, where everything is got up on an entirely different basis,' replied Mr. Bennett. 'You won't find much 'pastoral' work here, even among the blue lights. They confine themselves to preaching brimstone sermons from the pulpit and at evening lectures, and giving orders about the management of your family and mine, taking care that nobody shall enjoy anything if they can help it. If you go to see a play, it is a plunge into Tophet; if you permit your child to tread a quickstep to a lively tune, both you and your child are fit subjects for the wrath to come.'

'I rather think you are mistaken when you say the Episcopalians approve of the theatre and late parties, and so forth,' retorted Hiram. 'I have been told by two or three of that persuasion, that the clergy object decidedly to all these things.'

'Gammon, Hiram—gammon for the country market. I tell you, I know that we can do just what we please in the way of 'rational amusement,' as our clergyman calls it, and your people can't, and I advise you to come over to the liberal side.'

Hiram shook his head.

'Well, if you won't, I recommend Dr. Pratt. He, I understand, permits a little fun occasionally; then he makes use of our prayers, commits them to memory, you know; and latterly has put on a gown, and has a little boy to open the door of his pulpit. I advise you to go there.'

'Thank you,' said Hiram; 'but I don't think I should relish that kind of a man. I prefer something decided one way or the other.'

'Then take Dr. Chellis, he's your chap. Boanerges! a regular son of thunder. Egad, I believe he does visit every soul of his flock—keeps them straight. The other evening he was invited to a little gathering at the house of a new comer in his congregation—he always accepts invitations, and they say he is very fond of oysters and chicken salad, though he drinks nothing but cold water;—well, it happened the young folks wanted to get up a quadrille, began to arrange it innocently enough before his face and eyes. Thereupon he jumped up in a huff, and flung himself out of the house, and the next Sunday delivered an extra blast on the 'immoral tendencies of the dance.'

'That's the man for me,' said Hiram, firmly.

Mr. Bennett regarded his protegé with a keen, inquisitive glance, with a view to fathom him, if possible. It would seem that the result was unsatisfactory, for after a moment he exclaimed, 'Well, I confess I don't exactly see through you. It may be one sort of thing; it may be another; but I can't say which.'

'It is a very simple matter, Mr. Bennett. I was brought up strictly, and believe in my bringing up.'

'All right, if you mean it.'

'I do mean it. Besides, now that I have come to New York to reside, where I shall be subjected to the numerous temptations of a city life, I shall need more than ever to be under the preaching of just such a man as you describe Dr. Chellis to be.'

'Oh, don't; that is coming it too strong; now I think I do understand you. But, Hiram, drop all that sort of thing. If you want to join Chellis's church, join it; but talk your cant to the marines.'

Hiram was angry, but he said nothing.

'You must not be vexed, Hiram. You know I want to do you all the good I can. Recollect, if you are smart, you have much to learn yet. Let me have your confidence, and I will advise you according to my experience. If you really like severe preaching, you can't do better than go in for the Doctor. He has the richest congregation in New York. Allwise, Tenant & Co., Starbuck & Briggs, Daniel Story. Those are names for you; South-street men, too, in your line. They are the pillars of Chellis's church; good men and true, if they are blue lights. Besides, there are lots of pretty girls—tight little Presbyterian saints, with plenty of cash. Their fathers can buy and sell Dr. Pratt's congregation and mine together. Yes, you are right; I wonder I did not think of it. Go in for Chellis.'

Hiram was still silent. His heightened color and severe expression showed how little he relished Mr. Bennett's conversation.

Nothing is so disagreeable to a person whose nature is not thoroughly genuine, but who claims to act from proper motives, as to have another take it for granted he is not doing so.

He did not forget a word that Mr. Bennett had said, though. Indeed, he recovered his equanimity so far as to thank him for his suggestions, and, wishing him good-day, he started for his place in South street.

Mr. Bennett watched the young man as he walked up the street (the conversation occurred in the doorway of H. Bennett & Co.'s establishment), and until he had turned the corner. 'Deep, very deep,' he muttered as he stepped inside. 'He'll be 'round one of these days, or I am mistaken.'

Meanwhile Hiram continued on his way to the store, his cheeks burning under the influence of Mr. Bennett's plain talk, but sensibly alive to the description of Dr. Chellis's church.

'Allwise, Tenant & Co., eh? and Starbuck & Briggs (Hiram had been but a few weeks in New York, and already had learned to pay that almost idolatrous deference to great commercial names which is a leading characteristic of the town); that will do. Plenty of rich girls,'—his heart began to beat quick,—'plenty of rich girls. That's the place for me.'

Strange, in this soliloquy he said nothing about the spiritual advantages to be derived under the preaching of so noted a divine as Dr. Chellis. Yet Hiram really liked strong preaching and severe discipline. For he never appropriated any of the denunciations. Feeling perfectly safe himself, it gratified him to hear the awful truths severely enforced on the outsiders.

We see, however, from this little conversation with himself, what was uppermost in Hiram's mind. Subsequent inquiries, carefully made of various persons, fully confirmed the statement of Mr. Bennett as to these little particulars in relation to Dr. Chellis's church and congregation.

Dr. Chellis himself was a person of extraordinary ability, great purity of character, and great zeal. At this period he was about sixty years of age, but he possessed the earnestness and energy of a young man. His congregation were very much attached to him, and it is true he exercised over them a remarkable influence. Many people sneered, accusing them of 'being led by the nose by their minister.' They were led, it is true, but not in that way: rather by their understanding and their affections. For, strict and stern and severe as the 'old Doctor' appeared to be, it was the sin he thundered against, not the individual. And those who were brought in more intimate contact with him, declared that he was, after all, a kind, tender-hearted man.

His church were devoted to him. The majority were a severe, toilsome, self-denying company—too much so, perchance; but of that I dare hazard no opinion: God knows. Like their minister, sincere, indulging in no cant; without hypocrisy, practising in the world during the week the principles they professed on Sunday to be governed by; a church deserving to be honored for its various charities (it gave twice as much as any other in the city), for the personal liberality of its members when called on to join in public or private subscriptions, and for the exalted influence they exerted in affairs generally.

Into such a church, and among such a people, Hiram Meeker proposes to introduce himself.

His first move was to call on Dr. Chellis without any introduction, and present his credentials from the church in Burnsville, as well as an excellent letter from his minister, certifying particularly as to his religious character and deportment. He thought by going as an unsophisticated youth from the country he would make a better impression and more strongly commend himself to the Doctor's sympathy than in any other way.

I think, however, that Hiram's call was rather of a failure. He had no ordinary man to deal with. Dr. Chellis had not only a profound knowledge of human nature, but a quick insight into its various peculiarities. He could classify individuals rapidly; and he read Hiram after fifteen minutes' conversation.

The latter, not accustomed to men of the Doctor's calibre, found himself wanting in his usual equanimity. His familiar rôle did not serve, he could see that, and for once his resources failed him.

For the Doctor did not appear to be specially interested when Hiram, apropos of nothing, except as a last card, undertook, in a meek, saint-like manner, to give him an account of his early conviction of sin and subsequent triumphant conversion. Indeed, if the truth must be told, the worthy divine gave evident symptoms—to speak plainly—of being bored before Hiram's story was half finished! The latter was not slow to see this, and he found it difficult to rally.

At length he gave the Doctor an opportunity to speak, by bringing his personal narrative to a close.

'You have no acquaintances in the city?'

'I think I may say none, except in business; and my object in selecting such a church as yours is to keep up the same degree of piety which I humbly trust I maintained in my village home.'

[Pretty well, Hiram, pretty well—but you have an old head to deal with, and an honest heart: be careful.]

'To do that,' replied the Doctor, gravely, 'you must not look back to what you were, or thought you were. Be sure you are in danger when you feel complacent about yourself.'

These were awful words to Hiram, and from such a severe, grave, dignified old man.

'In danger!' That was something new. 'Of what?' Why, no thought of a possibility of danger had crossed young Meeker's mind since the day he joined the church in Hampton.

He sat quite still, uncertain what reply to make.

He was interrupted by the tones of the Doctor's voice—tones which were modified from their previous severity.

'I will take your letter,' he said, 'and at the next communion, which will take place in about six weeks, you will be admitted to membership.'

'I should like to have a class in the Sunday school,' said Hiram, breathing more freely.

'If you will speak next Sunday to Mr. Harris, the superintendent,' replied the Doctor, 'he will furnish you with one. There is a demand for teachers just at present, I heard him say.'

Dr. Chellis rose, as if Hiram had taken up enough of his time. Our hero could but do the same. He bowed and left the room.

'A pretty sort of minister that,' exclaimed he between his teeth, as he quitted the house. 'Pious! no more pious than my boot. Never listened to a word I said. I know he didn't. Is it possible I must sit under this man's preaching? I see now what cousin Bennett meant by things being got up on an entirely different basis here from what they are in the country. I should think they were. But there is Allwise, Tenant & Co., Daniel Story. I may trust myself with such names [he did not say with such men]. Ah! h'm—h'm—lots of pretty girls, with plenty of cash. I'll try it. Anyhow, it stands number one. No mistake about that!

CHAPTER III.

Hiram soon learned a lesson. He discovered there were people in New York just as quickwitted, as keen, and as shrewd as he was himself. This did not alarm him. Not a bit. He was only the more ready to appreciate the truth of Mr. Bennett's remark, that he had yet much to learn.

'I see it,' quoth Hiram. 'The city gets the best of everything, by the natural course of supply and demand. Yes, it gets the best beef and mutton and fowls, and fruits and vegetables, and on the same principle it commands the best men. Well, I like this all the better. It was dull business in Burnsville, after all, with nobody to compete with. Give me New York!'

In the store of Hendly, Layton & Gibb, Hiram saw and conversed with shipmasters who were familiar with every port in the world. The reader will recollect, at school he had devoted himself to mercantile geography. Thus he had located in his mind every principal seaport, and had learned what was the nature of the trade with each. The old sea captains were amazed at the pertinence of Hiram's questions, and with the information he possessed on topics connected with their business. They could scarcely understand it. It gave them a great respect for the 'fellow,' and Hiram speedily became a favorite with them all. He used to like to go on board their ships, and chat with them there, whenever he found time. Do not suppose these were mere pleasure excursions. Hiram Meeker was forming his opinion of each one of these captains. For in his mind's eye he saw some of them in his employ; but which? that was the question. So by mingling with them, he learned much of the mechanical part of commerce, and he discovered, besides their different characters, who were competent and honest, and who were not altogether so.

Hiram also spent a good deal of his time conversing with Eastman, with whom he boarded. He got the latter's ideas of business and about the men they daily encountered, and Eastman could furnish a fund of valuable information, based on long experience.

Hiram all this time was indefatigable. He watched the course of trade. He endeavored to discover the secret of the success of the great South street houses. He worked, he pondered, and yet all the time served Hendly, Layton & Gibb with fidelity. Eastman became attached to him. Mrs. Eastman said the man did not give her half the trouble she expected. So you see, in certain quarters, Hiram was as popular as ever.

Meantime he had secured a seat in and joined Dr. Chellis's church. He duly presented himself at the Sunday school and obtained a fine class. From that time he never missed a service on Sunday, nor a lecture, or prayer meeting, or other weekly gathering. He even attended a funeral occasionally, in his zeal to 'wait' on all the ordinances. He was, however, exceedingly modest and unobtrusive. He did not seek to make acquaintances, but no one could help noticing his punctilious regularity and decorum. I have remarked that Hiram determined to cut off what had been a great source of pleasure—society; but he still paid the same attention to his personal appearance as before. After a while questions began to be asked: 'Who is this new comer, so constant, so devout, and so exemplary?'

'What a fine-looking fellow! I wonder who he is?' whispered Miss Tenant to Miss Stanley, one morning, as our hero passed their seats (they both had classes) to take his place with his Sunday school pupils.

'I don't know, I am sure,' replied her friend.

'I can't find any one who does. Do you know, I think he is real handsome?'

'So do I, if he would only lift his head up and look people in the face; he is as bashful as a sheep.'

'My little brother is in his class, and he says they all like him so much. He takes such an interest in his pupils.'

'Then I should think you could find out something about him.'

'No: his name is Meeker; that's all any one seems to know.'

'Funny name; I don't like it.'

'Nor I. Still, we won't condemn him for his name. Besides, I like his face?'

'Hush!'

Here the conversation of the two young people was interrupted by the rapping of the superintendent, and the services of the school commenced.

If young ladies of the importance of Miss Tenant and Miss Stanley begin to talk about Hiram, you may be certain it will spread through the school and into the church. He knew what was going on—of course he did; but only took still greater pains with his personal appearance, and became more shy and reserved and assiduously devout.

The elders of the church could not help noticing him.

The young ladies noticed him.

Heads of families observed his exemplary deportment.

Who could he be?

Dr. Chellis, meantime, did not lose sight of his new communicant. They frequently met, and Hiram was always greeted, if not with cordiality, yet kindly. Strange to say, contrary to his habit, the Doctor neglected or omitted to enter into conversation with Hiram on religious topics. He felt a repugance to doing so which he could not explain. Everything seemed so praiseworthy in Hiram's conduct, that one would suppose the worthy divine would like to engage him in conversation, as the Rev. Mr. Chase used to do at Burnsville. But a certain aversion prevented it.

When applied to for information about Hiram, the Doctor could say nothing, for he knew nothing; and so the mystery, for a mystery the young ladies determined to make of it, increased.

At last a rumor was circulated that Hiram had been disappointed in a love affair. A mischief-loving girl detailed it to Miss Tenant, whose interest in the young Sunday school teacher gradually grew stronger, and it soon became a well-authenticated piece of history.

During this time a species of intimacy was growing up between Hiram Meeker and Hill. An odd companionship, you will say; but they seemed to get along very well together. The latter, as you may remember, was a wild, reckless fellow. He had his good traits, though. There was nothing mean in his composition, but much that was impulsive and generous. He never laid up a penny, and was always in debt. It was this unfortunate habit which had kept him so long at Joslin's. He had got in advance of his salary, and he would not quit till it was made up. When he left there, he succeeded in getting a place in a large wine and liquor house; for Hill's acquaintance was extensive, and in those days of extraordinary 'drumming,' in which he was a great proficient, his services were valuable. It was through Hill, as I have said, that Hiram got his place at Hendly's, and after that he was in the habit of looking in nearly every day on him toward the close of business hours.

I cannot precisely explain by what species of fascination this poor fellow was attracted to Meeker. Doubtless it originated in the triumphant resistance which the latter opposed to Hill's attempt on him at their first acquaintance, and his complete victory over and discomfiture of Benjamin Joslin, for whom Hill entertained a supreme contempt. There was a mystery about the sources of Hiram's power which completed the charm, and made Hill his willing subject, and afterward slave.

But what did Hiram want of Hill? That would appear more difficult to answer. He certainly did want something of him. For he encouraged his coming often to see him, and talked with him a great deal. He even lent him occasionally small sums of money. I repeat, what a droll companionship! Hill, a swearing, drinking, godless scapegrace. Meeker, a quiet, exemplary, religious, laborious young man.

Perhaps it was the rule by which opposites are attracted to each other.

Perhaps it was something else.

On the whole, I am inclined to think it was something else, on Hiram's part at least. I believe he acted, with respect to Hill, as he did with respect to everybody—from carefully considered motives. We shall see, perhaps, by and by, how this was.

Eastman used to wonder that Hiram should tolerate Hill's society. To be sure, he himself had a sort of family regard for him. But his presence always annoyed him. He even expressed his surprise to Hiram, who replied by making use of the moral argument. He was sorry for the poor fellow. He hoped to do him some good. Possibly he might be able to bring him under better influences. Certainly Hill would not harm him, while, on the contrary, he (Hill) might be benefited.

Hiram did not tell the truth.

Really, if he had dared to stop and inquire of himself, he would be forced to acknowledge that he did not want Hill to be different from what he was. Then he would not serve his purpose. To be sure, sometimes, when Hill permitted an extra strong oath to escape his lips, Hiram would fidget and look uneasy, and beg his visitor to break himself of such a wicked habit. But the secret of Hiram's power did not lie in his moral influence certainly, for Hill's habit of swearing did not improve, indeed it grew worse.

In this way passed our hero's first year in New York.

NULLIFICATION AND SECESSION.

We publish the principal part of the speech of Hon. R. J. Walker, against nullification and secession, made at the great Union meeting at Natchez, Mississippi, on the first Monday of January, 1833. We republish this speech from the Natchez Mississippi Journal of that date. Upon that speech, Mr. Walker became the Union candidate for Senator of the United States from Mississippi against Mr. Poindexter, a Calhoun nullifier and secessionist. After a three years' contest of unexampled violence, Mr. Walker was elected on the 8th of January, 1836. So distinct was the issue, that the Legislature of Mississippi declared nullification and secession to be treason. The contest was conducted by Mr. Walker by speeches in every county, with the banner of the Union waving over him, and to the music of our national airs.

We republish this speech now because it preceded Mr. Webster's great reply to Calhoun, and because its arguments are applicable to the present contest. This speech drew out Gen. Jackson's celebrated letter, heretofore published, in favor of Mr. Walker; and the speech received the cordial approval of ex-President Madison. By reference to the Washington city Globe of the 12th August, 1836, it will be found that, in conversation with Mr. Ingersoll, 'Mr. Madison spoke very freely of nullification, which he altogether condemned, remarking that Mr. Walker, of the Senate, in a speech he had made on some occasion, was the first person who had given to the public what he (Mr. Madison) considers the true view of Mr. Jefferson's language on that subject.' Mr. Webster gave the Whig arguments against nullification and secession, Mr. Walker the democratic; but they both arrived at the same conclusions:

Never, fellow citizens, did I rise to address you with such deep and abiding impressions of the awful character of that crisis which involves the existence of the American Union. No mortal eye can pierce the veil which covers the events of the next few months, but we do know that the scales are now balancing in fearful equipoise, liberty and union in the one hand, anarchy or despotism in the other. Which shall preponderate, is the startling question to which we must all now answer. Already one bright, one kindred star is sinking from the banner of the American Union, the very fabric of our government is rocking on its foundations, one of its proudest pillars is now moving from beneath the glorious arch, and soon may we all stand amid the broken columns and upon the scattered fragments of the Constitution of our once united and happy country. Whilst then we may yet recede from the brink of that precipice on which we now stand, whilst we are once more convened as citizens of the American Union, and have still a common country, whilst we are yet fondly gazing, perhaps for the last time, upon that banner which floated over the army of Washington, and living beneath that Constitution which bears his sacred name, let us at least endeavor to transmit to posterity, unimpaired, that Union, cemented by the blood of our forefathers. The honorable gentleman who has preceded me, in opposition to the resolutions submitted for your consideration, tells us that he was nursed in the principles of '76 and '98—that these are the principles of Carolina, and that they ought to be maintained. Let me briefly answer, that the humble individual who now addresses you is the son of a soldier of the Revolution, and that from the dawning of manhood, from his first vote to his last, at all times, and upon all occasions, he has supported and will support the principles of democracy, and the doctrines of '76 and '98. But it was under the banner of the Union that the whigs of '76 and '98 achieved their glorious triumphs; and is that the standard now unfurled by the advocates of nullification? It is true, we find nullification declared in the Kentucky resolutions to be a rightful remedy—but nullification by whom? by a single State? no—by those sovereignties the several States, in the mode prescribed by the Constitution, by a declaratory amendment annulling the power under which the law was passed. This would be a remedy in fact; for it would operate equally on all the States; but can the same act of Congress be constitutional in one State, and unconstitutional in another? South Carolina declares the Tariff unconstitutional—Kentucky declares it valid; is it nullified or not? is it void or valid? The South Carolina theory gives to each State, of itself, the unlimited power to pronounce ultimate judgment against the validity of any act of Congress. If so, the Tariff must be valid in Kentucky, and void in South Carolina. Yet if the Carolina ordinance, nullifying the Tariff, be valid in that State, it is valid in every other State, and Carolina may introduce foreign imports, once landed in her own State, into every other State, free of all duty; for, by the Constitution, 'no tax or duty shall be laid on articles exported from any State.' What then becomes of the ultimate judgment of Kentucky? Nullified by a single State; and that is the nullification of South Carolina, by which she can constitutionally, and as a member of the Union, repeal any act of Congress she may deem invalid, and prescribe her will for law throughout the limits of every other State. The Constitution of the Union would then be this: Be it enacted, that the American Congress shall possess such powers only as South Carolina believes they may lawfully exercise; and the whole American people be thus subjected to the government of the ordinances of a single State. Is this democracy? The truth is, every act of Congress is intrinsically void or valid, from its repugnance to or consonance with the provisions of the American Constitution; nor can the judgment of a State render void an act of Congress which is constitutional, or render valid an act of Congress which is unconstitutional. Would the judgment of a single State have rendered the alien and sedition law constitutional, or the last war unconstitutional, or would the Supreme Court of the Union have been compelled to render opposite judgment in a case brought before them, declaring the citizen of Massachusetts bound to oppose, and of Virginia to support either of these laws, as their respective States had pronounced contradictory judgments upon them? Suppose Massachusetts had not only declared the last war unconstitutional, but had passed an ordinance requiring her citizens to resist the war, to prostrate and oppose the armies of the Republic, and to aid a tyrant's myrmidons in driving the steel deeper into the bosoms of our bleeding countrymen; would the ordinance be constitutional, or would not the acts it required to be performed be treason against the Government of the Union?

It is said a State cannot commit treason; no, but its citizens may; nor would they be rightfully acquitted because sustained by the judgment of a single State. If each State possesses an equal right to pass ultimate judgment upon any act of Congress, and two States enact ordinances directly contradictory to the same law, do they not, like the meeting of equal forces in mechanics, nullify each other? or must the same law be enforced in one State and disregarded in the other? Not without violating the Constitution; for if New York pronounces the Tariff valid, and South Carolina declares it void, and suits are instituted in each State on bonds given for the payment of duties on imports introduced into each, must the duties be collected in one State, but not in the other? This would be to set at open defiance those clauses of the Constitution which declare that all imposts 'shall be uniform throughout the United States,' and that 'no preference shall exist in the collection of revenue in the ports of one State over those of another.' Upon an appeal from the decisions by the Federal district courts of New York and Carolina, in the suits on the bonds for these duties, how would the Supreme Court of the Union decide the question? by enforcing the payment of the bonds given in Carolina? No; for that State had exercised the right of ultimate judgment, and pronounced the law invalid; would the court decide against the validity of the bond given in New York? No; for that State, in exercising its equal right of pronouncing ultimate judgment, had declared that the law was valid. Or would they enforce the payments of the duties in New York and not in South Carolina? This, we have seen, would violate both the clauses of the Constitution last quoted. The only remaining judgment would be, to disregard the edict of a single State, and to enforce the payment of the duties in both States, or in neither, as the act of Congress might or might not be repugnant to the provisions of the Constitution. If Kentucky and Virginia thought they possessed the power in regard to the alien and sedition laws now claimed by Carolina in regard to the Tariff, where is the ordinance nullifying those laws? Or would they be nullified by resolutions expressing only the judgment and opinion of the Legislature in regard to the constitutionality of the law, as if the Legislature, one department only of the Government of a single State, could annul all the laws of the Union? Even South Carolina does not urge a doctrine so monstrous, for she declares this can be done solely by the 'delegates' of the State in 'solemn convention.' South Carolina finds, then, in the practice of Virginia and Kentucky, no warrant for the doctrine of nullification. She finds neither ordinance, nor test oaths, nor standing armies, nor packed juries, nor secession, or threats of secession, from the Union. They find Mr. Jefferson in that great emergency protesting against 'a scission of the Union,' in any event; and the ordinance of South Carolina would have received his unqualified abhorrence. But, if we are asked to surrender the principles which alone can preserve the Union, on the assumed authority of Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Madison, of Kentucky and of Virginia—why do not the advocates of nullification tell us that Mr. Jefferson, in 1821, as appears by his printed memoirs, emphatically denied the right of a State to veto an act of Congress; and Mr. Madison, a surviving founder of the Constitution, and framer of the Virginia resolutions, unequivocally denounces the doctrine of nullification? And are they not safer guides than Messrs. McDuffie, Calhoun, and Hamilton, the former of whom wrote and published in 1821, and the latter deliberately sanctioned, in a laudatory preface, a series of essays, denouncing this very doctrine of nullification as the 'climax of political heresies'? Why do not those who would look to Kentucky and Virginia as the only safe expositors of the Constitution inform us also, that the great and patriotic commonwealth of Kentucky is indignantly repelling the charge that nullification ever was sustained by her authority? Why do they not point to the unanimous resolution of the Virginia Legislature in 1810, declaring in the very case of a nullification, by a law of Pennsylvania, of a power of the General Government, that the Supreme Court of the Union is the tribunal, 'already provided by the Constitution of the United States, to decide disputes between the State and Federal' authorities?' (See 'Sup. Rev. Code of Virginia,' page 150.) These resolutions, directly affirming the supremacy of the judgment of the Supreme Court of the Union over the laws and judgment of a State, were adopted by Virginia within a few months after the promulgation by that tribunal of its decree enforcing the authority of the Union against the nullifying edict of a sovereign State. Virginia did more: she not only affirmed the power of this tribunal, and sanctioned its decree, but spoke of it in terms of the highest eulogy, and scouted indignantly the proposition of Pennsylvania to vest the right of deciding questions of disputed power and sovereignty in some other tribunal than the Supreme Court of the Union. The same proposition was treated with the open or silent contempt of every State in the Union, South Carolina among the number; and Pennsylvania receded, though she had passed a law commanding the Governor of the State to prevent by an armed force the execution of the process emanating under the authority of the Constitution of the Union—though she placed her act upon the same ground as Carolina, that the power exercised in that case had never been granted by the Constitution to any department of the General Government. Thus ended nullification in the keystone of the arch of the Union. That State, which has ever sustained the Democracy of the South, in the election of Jefferson, of Madison, and Monroe, and the cheering voice of whose public meetings first called out as a candidate for the presidency the patriot Chief Magistrate who now upholds the banner of the Union, submitted to the law of the Union. And is nullification constitutional in Carolina, but unconstitutional in Pennsylvania? Is the one a sovereign and the other a subject State? Shall the one submit to the laws of the Union, and not the other? Why, sir, if the people of Pennsylvania could sustain a distinction so odious, the very shades of their ancestors would rise from the battlefields of the Revolution, from Paoli and Germantown, and call their children bondmen of Carolina, vassals and recreant slaves! I speak not now of the whiskey insurrection, when, at the order of Washington, the militia of Virginia and of other States moved against the people of Western Pennsylvania, under the command of the Governor of Virginia and Carolina, and the nation approved the deed; but I speak of the period, during the presidency of Mr. Jefferson, when the State of Pennsylvania passed a law nullifying the powers of the General Government, under her reserved right to construe the Constitution at her pleasure, when she was compelled to yield to the laws of the Union, and her armed force, assembled by her Governor under an edict of the State, was ineffectual. Nullification was condemned by Jefferson and Madison, by Virginia and Carolina, and the people of the Union; and must one State nullify and not another? No, sir; all or none of the States must submit to the supremacy of the Government of the Union; and if Carolina can successfully resist that Government, will any other State submit to a power which is thus insulted, disgraced, defied, and overthrown by the edict of a single State, and which acts and exists only by its permission? No, sir; one successful example of practical nullification by a State destroys the Union; for it demonstrates that the Government of the Union has no power to execute its laws, or preserve its existence—that it is not a government, or that its powers are written in sand, to be swept away by the first angry surge of passion that beats over them. Such was the prediction of the despots of Europe, too soon to be fulfilled if the fatal ordinance of Carolina is sustained, and the flag of the Union struck down by the imperious mandate of a single State. Let us, then, now teach those despots, who, pointing with exultation to our dissensions, and anticipating our downfall, proclaim that man is incapable of self-government, that the Union can and shall be preserved, that we know that 'Union and Liberty are inseparable,' that the name and privileges of American citizens are entwined with the very ligaments of our hearts, that they are our birthright, the glorious inheritance purchased by the blood of our forefathers, and never to be surrendered by their sons; that we will all rally round the banner of our country and sustain it, upon the ocean, on the land, in war and in peace, against foreign or domestic enemies; or, if it must fall, it will be upon the graves of Americans preferring death in its defence to life without it, when the iron chains of despotism would bind them as slaves to that soil which they would tread only as freemen.

It is said that the Government of the Union is but a league formed by sovereign States. Did the States form it as governments? if so, which or all of the departments of any State subscribed or ratified the compact? or could the government of any State change the organic law, unless by a power given them by the Constitution, or surrender the sovereign attributes of power, and unite the people in a new government with other confederates? No; the government cannot abolish or change its form or transfer its powers to another government: this highest act of sovereignty can only be performed by the people of a State; and it was by the people of every State, acting in convention as separate and distinct communities, that the Constitution was ratified and rendered binding upon the people of all the States; and, in the language of Mr. Jefferson, the Government thus formed was 'authorized to act immediately on the people and by its own officers.' Was it then a league only? No, it was what its framers, the people, as we have seen, and not the governments of all the States, called it, a 'Constitution'—a 'Government;' and it is an overthrow of fundamental principles to say that a 'constitution,' a 'government,' which is made 'the supreme law' in all the States, could be created by any power less than the people of the several States, but as the people of the States, and not in their aggregate capacity. Whatever may be the theories of the advocates of consolidation on the one hand, or nullification on the other, this is certainly a true history of the manner in which the Government of the Union was formed. The Constitution itself expressly declares that it could be created only by 'the ratifications of the conventions of the States;' and this Constitution was expressly rendered 'the supreme law of the land,' 'anything in the constitution or laws of any State to the contrary notwithstanding,'—as if the government of a State could render their own constitution subordinate to another constitution. A return then having taken place, in forming the Constitution, to the people of all the States, as the primary fountain of power, they might have vested all their sovereignty, or but a part of it, in one government; and they might have given, in either event, the same power which exists in ordinary governments of enforcing its laws when sustained as constitutional by all its departments, subject only to the natural rights of the people to revolutionize the government in case of intolerable oppression. Certain important powers and attributes of sovereignty the people of the States gave to this new government. They made this government 'supreme' in the exercise of its powers in all the States. They gave this government the sole power 'to declare war.' Did the State then remain an absolute sovereign in that respect, and with absolute power to judge if the object of the war was constitutional, and annul the declaration? This new government had the sole power to lay and collect 'duties on imports;' did each State remain an absolute sovereignty in this respect, and with absolute powers to judge if the object of the duties was constitutional, and annul the law? The General Government was the only sovereign as regards these powers; but a single State, having none of these powers, is made the absolute judge whether they can or cannot be exercised: then no powers have yet been granted to the General Government by any State, if each possesses the right to interdict the exercise of any of these powers. But, could this General Government exist without the authority to give one uniform effect to the execution of its powers in all the States? Created with all the organs of a government, legislative, judicial, and executive, may it enact, but not expound, or enact and expound, but not execute? Must it stop at the boundary of each State, and ask what power it possesses, and act upon the contradictory responses of each State? Must it possess one set of powers in one State, and another and wholly opposite set of powers in another State? May it lay a tariff in one State, and not in another, and yet this tariff required to be uniform in every State? Is it one constitution, and susceptible of one only true construction, or twenty-four constitutions, with twenty-four various and contradictory constructions, and all right, because all pronounced by absolute sovereigns exercising the uncontrolled power of ultimate judgment? Has it any powers, and what are they? Will Mississippi submit this question to Massachusetts or Carolina, or is a government created whose powers cannot be ascertained? Must anarchy govern? Can there be no decision, or is that of a single State, or of a small minority of the States, to sweep away the legislation of a majority, or two thirds of the States? According to the new theory, each State has the constitutional power in the first instance, and one fourth in the last resort, to judge what powers each State may exercise, and the other States must submit. Now, this is impossible, where the legislation of the two States is contradictory; and, if possible, is not a mere negative, but a positive power. It is a government without limitation of power, in a single State, aided by one fourth of the States—a government by which the minority may control the majority in all cases whatsoever. Thus, Carolina frames any law or ordinance she thinks she may lawfully do in the exercise of her reserved rights. She gives clearances for vessels, for instance, to introduce all imports free of all duties. When once introduced into Carolina, she has, or claims and exercises the right under the Constitution of introducing these imports free of all duties into every other State in the Union. Two thirds of the States have passed an act of Congress imposing certain duties on foreign imports: as separate States they can pass no such laws, having surrendered that power in the Constitution of the Union. Can Carolina compel them to receive all foreign imports free of all duties? Yet she says this is one of her reserved rights, and she may forever constitutionally exercise it, in defiance of an act of Congress passed by two thirds of the States. Such a government would be an oligarchy of the most odious and detestable character. The right of the people of any State, or of any portion of them, to meet intolerable oppression by revolution is certain; but, in Mr. Jefferson's rough draught of the Kentucky resolutions (now attempted to be substituted for his deliberate conclusions as contained in the resolutions themselves), does he advocate nullification by a single State as a constitutional remedy, by a State remaining in the Union and submitting only to such laws as it deemed valid. No; it was not as a constitutional, but as a 'NATURAL right,' that Mr. Jefferson spoke of nullification by the people of a State. I say the people, for Mr. Jefferson well knew that the 'natural right' of a State to nullify, as an artificial body politic, would be a contradiction in terms. This 'natural right' is a personal, as contradistinguished from a State right; it is inalienable—it is neither given nor reserved by constitutional compacts—it exists in citizens of every State, the minority as well as the majority, and not in the government of any one State. But the exercise of this right is revolution—it is a declaration of independence—it is war, and appeals to the sword as its umpire. Let no State, then, claim to stand on the basis of the Constitution of the Union, while stripping it of its vital powers, or setting up its will for law. No, the ordinance of Carolina is not a peaceful, constitutional remedy: it is a nullification of the Government itself, sweeping away its revenues, its courts, and its officers; it is a repeal of the Union; it is despotic; it is revolutionary; it is belligerent; it is a declaration of war or separate independence. It looks beyond a repeal of the Tariff; for, whether the Tariff be repealed or not, it asks to engraft the doctrine of nullification as a permanent feature of the Constitution, applicable in every case in which any State may deem any act of Congress unconstitutional. Then each one of the States may take up the volumes containing all the acts of Congress, and repeal them all by one sweeping edict of nullification; for there is no limitation to the exercise of the power but her own will. It is said no State will abuse the power; but if a majority of the States, by their representatives in Congress, may abuse delegated powers, is there no danger that one of these same States, by their representatives at home, may mistake the nature of their powers, and endanger the Union by a usurpation of power? Or do the same people, and voting at the same period in any State, elect men to Congress who will violate, and to the councils of the State, who will uniformly preserve the Constitution? A State declared the last war unconstitutional: must the war be nullified, or, by the new theory, suspended, till, by a slow and tedious process, its constitutionality be affirmed by three fourths of the States? But, in the mean time, all hostile operations must cease, our army be disbanded, our navy recalled, and no further supplies decreed of money, ammunition, or men. And when one State thus nullifies any act of Congress, she is not required to be sustained by the vote of any other State: the one fourth are only required to refuse to act—to remain neutral—if they consider the act of Congress inexpedient, although they believe it constitutional. Suppose the New-England States, after the war was pronounced unconstitutional by a single State, had refused to call a convention to amend the Constitution, or, if called, to grant the disputed power; then the war must have been abandoned, the minority must govern, and our country be disgraced, our seamen permitted to be pressed from the very decks of our vessels into foreign service, and the maritime despotism of Britain established without even a struggle in defence of our liberties. Shall opposition to the Tariff betray us into the support of doctrines so utterly subversive of the Constitution, and inconsistent with the existence of any government of the Union?

Once this power was threatened to be assumed by Massachusetts, now by South Carolina, and how and by what State it will next be exercised, or what vital power it may next strike from the Constitution, it is impossible to predict; but, if permitted in one State, it will be exercised by all, till not a vestige remains of the Constitution of the Union. Suppose the Tariff repealed by Congress, nullification may annul the repealing law. Louisiana may, in the exercise of her right of ultimate judgment, declare that the repealing law is unconstitutional, upon the pretext that it destroys rights vested by the first law and violates the plighted faith of the Government, insist on the collection of duties under the first law, pass her ordinance, array her State officers against those of the Union, and thus destroy the commerce of Mississippi, and of all the Western States, or compel the collection of the present duties. Or she may say that, if Congress possesses no power to lay duties which will operate an incidental protection, Louisiana possesses the reserved right of imposing duties for that purpose; that each State possessed it before it became a member of the Union; that duties for revenue only can be collected by the General Government, and that the residuary power to lay duties for protection is one of the powers of a sovereign State; that she will exercise it, and impose protecting duties on imports, and thus we shall have various and conflicting State tariffs from Maine to Louisiana (the very object which the Constitution was designed to prevent); but if Louisiana alone adopt the measure, the commerce of the West is prostrate at her feet.

It is in the name of liberty and to protect minorities, that nullification professes to act; while in its first ordinance it sweeps away the dearest rights of a large minority of the people of Carolina, and binds the freedom of conscience in adamantine chains. It deprives American citizens of that last and hitherto sacred refuge from oppression, a trial by an impartial jury, and requires the very judges upon the bench and jurors within the box to be sworn to condemn the unhappy man whose only crime was this: that he claimed the Government of the Union as his birthright, and acknowledged the duty of obedience to its laws. Such are the opening scenes of nullification; and, if not arrested, where or how will the drama close? In all the horrors of civil war. Turn your eyes upon the scenes of the French Revolution, and behold them about to be reacted within the limits of a sister State. Already nullification calls upon its twelve thousand bayonets; friend is rising against friend, and brother against brother, under the banner of Carolina on the one side, of the Union on the other; the inflammable materials are ready, the spark approaches, the explosion may soon take place, and the genius of liberty, rising in anguish from the bloodstained fields of Carolina, spread her pinions, and wing her way forever from a world, on one side of whose waters despotism reigns triumphant, and, upon the other, anarchy, with one foot upon the scroll of the Declaration of American Independence, and with the other upon the broken tablet of the Constitution of the Union, shall wave that sceptre, whereon shall be inscribed the motto, never to be effaced: 'Man is incapable of self-government.' Yes, this is the best, the brightest, the last experiment of self-government: universal freedom or universal bondage is staked on the result of the success or failure of the American Union; and as it shall be maintained and perpetuated, or broken and dissolved, the light of liberty shall beam upon the hopes of mankind, or be forever extinguished, amid the scoffs of exulting tyrants and the groans of a world in bondage. Rising, then, above all minor considerations, and lifting our souls to the contemplation of that lofty eminence on which Heaven itself has vouchsafed to place the American people, as the only guardians of the hopes and liberties of mankind, let us act as becomes the depositaries of that sacred fire which burns on the altars of the American Union, and resolve that this Union shall be preserved, all whole and inviolate, as we received it from the hands of our forefathers.

But, if nullification is not a constitutional remedy, we are told that secession is; and a few, who deny the one, admit the other; and our venerable chief magistrate (Jackson) has been proclaimed as a Federalist, because he denies the right of secession; and many of his supporters, although some may not concur in every argument by which he arrives at his conclusions, but concur in the conclusions themselves, are visited with a similar denunciation. Sir, the President is one of the fathers and founders of the Democratic party—one of its earliest and most steadfast supporters, in defeat and triumph, in war and in peace, in sunshine and in storm. In the Senate of the United States he voted against the alien law, and was a zealous advocate of the principles which resulted in the election of Mr. Jefferson, and the great political revolution of 1800; and if any one man has done more to support all the just rights of the States than General Jackson, that man is not known to me. It is now nearly ten years since I had the honor to propose the name of this illustrious patriot to the first meeting of a portion of the Democracy of Pennsylvania as a candidate for the presidency, and I will not hear him denounced as a Federalist without, at least, an effort in his defence. Who made the right of secession as a constitutional right of every State an article in the creed of the Democratic party, and by what authority? By what reasoning is nullification denounced, and secession supported, as a constitutional remedy? If there be any real difference, the former is check, and the latter a check-mate, to the movements of the Government of the Union. The same reasoning demonstrates the fallacy of nullification or secession, with equal clearness and certainty. A State cannot nullify a law of the Union, because the Constitution and laws of the State are made subordinate to the Constitution and laws of the Union, by a compact to which the people of each State were one party, and bound themselves to the people of all the other States, as the other party. One State cannot change the compact, or any of its terms or provisions, yet it may rescind the compact at pleasure! It would be abuse of language to call such an instrument a compact, because it would be obligatory upon none. Without the constitutional right to nullify a law of Congress by the ultimate judgment of the State against it, how could the constitutional power of secession arise? It is said, from a violation of the Constitution of the Union by the General Government; but if a State has not, as the opponents of nullification admit, any right to pass ultimate judgment on the constitutionality of an act of Congress, how can it make the supposed violation of the Constitution by the General Government the basis of the act of secession? The preamble of the ordinance on which the State would rest its act of secession, by asserting the unconstitutionality of an act of Congress, would be swept away by the non-existence of a power in a single State to pronounce ultimate judgment upon the acts of the Government of the Union; and the preamble and ordinance of secession would fall together. Thus, when Carolina, in her ordinance, first declares certain acts of Congress unconstitutional, and proceeds, with the same ordinance, to nullification first, and then to secession, we deny her constitutional right to nullify or secede for the same reason; because the right declared by her ordinance to render an act of Congress unconstitutional by the judgment of a single State is a usurpation of power. Governor Hayne, of Carolina, in his late proclamation, inquires if that State was linked to the Union 'in the iron bonds of a perpetual Union.' These bonds were not of iron, or Carolina would have never worn them, but they are the enduring chain of peace and Union. One link could not be severed from this chain, united in all its parts, without an entire dissolution of all the bonds of union; and one State cannot dissolve the union among all the States. Yet Carolina admits this to be the inevitable consequence of the separation of that State; for, in the address of her convention, she declares that 'the separation of South Carolina would inevitably produce a general dissolution of the Union.' Has the Government of the Union no power to preserve itself from destruction, or must we submit to a 'general dissolution of the Union' whenever any one State thinks proper to issue the despotic mandate? It was the declared object of our ancestors, the hope of their children, that they had formed 'a PERPETUAL Union.' The original compact of Carolina with her sister States, by which the confederacy was erected, is called 'Articles of Confederation and perpetual Union.' In the thirteenth article of this confederacy, it is expressly declared that 'the Union shall be perpetual;' and in the ratification of this compact, South Carolina united with her sister States in declaring: 'And we do further solemnly plight and engage the faith of our respective constituents' that 'the Union shall be perpetual;' and may she now withdraw this pledge without a violation of the compact? By the old confederacy, then, the Union was perpetual; and the declared object of the Constitution was to form 'a more perfect Union' than that existing under the former confederacy. Now, would this Union be more perfect under the new than the old confederacy, if by the latter the Union was perpetual, but, under the former, limited in its duration at the will of a single State?

The advocates of secession claim the constitutional power for each State to annul, not only any law which the State may deem unconstitutional, but to abolish the Constitution itself as the law of the State. Now, by this Constitution, Carolina granted certain powers to the General Government: may she constitutionally alter or revoke the grant, in a manner repugnant to the provisions of that Constitution? That instrument points out the mode in which it may be changed or abrogated, and by which the several States may assume all or any of the powers granted to the General Government, namely, by the conjoint action of three fourths of the States. What, then, are the powers reserved to the State? The ninth article of the Constitution of the Union declares that 'the powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.' Then the powers delegated to the United States were not reserved to the States or to the people. What is the meaning of the clause 'or to the people,' as contradistinguished from 'the States'? Does it mean that any of this mass of undefined powers, but embracing all not granted to the General Government, was reserved to the people of the United States in the aggregate? Then there would exist, and does now exist, a consolidated despotism. No, it was to the people of each State the reservation was made. Then it follows, as a necessary consequence, that none of the powers granted to the General Government were reserved either to the States or the people of any State. That is, so far as the people of any one State had granted, by their own separate constitution, to the State government any powers not delegated to the General Government, the government of the State might exercise these powers, and so far as any of these undelegated powers were not granted to the State government, by the people of the State, they were reserved to the people of each State. Now, one of the powers reserved to the people of each State is to change their form of State government, and resume the powers granted by it. But we have seen that neither the government or people of a State could resume 'the powers delegated to the United States,' because it was not one of the rights reserved to either. What! I am asked, cannot the people of a State abolish their form of government? Yes, in two modes: one in accordance with the Constitution, and the other by a revolution. Could the people of Carolina or Mississippi change or abolish their State constitution, except in the mode prescribed by that instrument, unless by a revolution? And the same power, the people of Carolina, that formed for them their State constitution, ratified and rendered obligatory upon them the Constitution of the Union; and can the one and not the other be abolished, except by a revolution, in any other mode than that prescribed by the Constitution? No; the people of Carolina, and of all the States, as distinct communities, in ratifying the Constitution of the Union, rendered it binding upon the people of every State, by the declaration that 'this Constitution shall be the supreme law of the land, and that the judges in every State shall be bound thereby, anything in the Constitution or laws of any State to the contrary notwithstanding.' Here we see the distinction between the State and the people of the State again recognized and confirmed, and the 'State,' by its 'laws,' and the people of the State, by the formation of a constitution, expressly prohibited from arresting the operation of the Constitution of the United States, as 'the supreme law of the land,' 'in every State.' If Carolina secede, she must form a constitution, by which she will assume the powers granted to the General Government, and vest them in the government of the State. Here she would be met by the former act of the people of Carolina, declaring that they had abandoned the power to form for themselves a constitution by which the Constitution of the Union would cease within their limits to be 'the supreme law of the land.' Nor did the framers of the Constitution mean to say only that the then existing Constitutions of the States ratifying the compact should be subordinate to the Constitution of the Union; for then, also, only the existing laws of any State were required to be subordinate to the Constitution of the Union; but both are placed on the same basis. The power of a State to nullify by its laws, or secede by forming a new constitution, are both denied in the same clause and sentence of the American Constitution. The language is clear, that the Constitution of the Union shall be 'the supreme law of the land,' and 'binding in every State,' 'anything in the Constitution or laws of any State to the contrary notwithstanding.' The terms are 'shall be;' it is the language of command, it is prospective, it was binding when subscribed, now, and forever. Or, was Carolina never bound by this compact, and might she, the very day after it was ratified by her people, disregard it altogether, secede, and establish a constitution directly repugnant to the Constitution of the Union? If so, written constitutions are worse than useless; they are not obligatory, there is no penalty for their violation; obedience to them cannot be enforced; there is no government but that of opinion, fluctuating and uncertain, undefined and undefinable, which is paramount to the fundamental law. This is what the despots of Europe call our government, and why they predict its downfall—a prediction now in the course of fulfilment, if these anarchical principles can be recognized as the doctrines of the Constitution.

There is no difference between the doctrines or acts of Jefferson and Jackson on this subject. Both admit nullification or secession as a revolutionary measure; and the new doctrine of suspending a law by a nullifying edict finds not the remotest support from Mr. Jefferson. In his celebrated draught of the Kentucky resolutions, so much relied on by Carolina, we have seen, he speaks of these powers of the people of any State as 'a natural right,' and so is revolution; and the cases to which he refers are such as render a revolution unavoidable, namely, if Congress pass an act 'so palpably against the Constitution as to amount to an undisguised declaration that the compact is not meant to be the measure of the powers of the General Government.' Is there now such a case? if there is, revolution is justifiable. Why then ask any other remedy than revolution for a case where revolution would be unavoidable? And SECESSION IS REVOLUTION. But did Mr. Jefferson mean to say that whenever any State should place its laws or Constitution, by nullification or secession, in opposition to the laws of the General Government, that the power of the General Government must not be exerted? The very reverse. The act of Congress of the 3d of March, 1807, signed and approved by Mr. Jefferson as President, expressly authorizes the President of the United States to 'employ such part of the land and naval force of the United States as may be necessary' to execute 'the laws of the United States.' Does this mean, as General Hayne tells us in his proclamation, to execute the laws against insurgents not sustained by any law of the State? No; this act was passed at the very time when Pennsylvania was proceeding, by virtue of a law of the State, to execute, by an armed force, the mandate of the State in opposition to the mandate of the Federal authorities; and the officer of Pennsylvania, acting under the mandate of the Governor and a positive law of the State, was condemned for executing a law of the State opposed to the mandate of the General Government, and only escaped punishment by the pardon of President Madison: and thus falls the very basis of the doctrine of nullification. Here is a commentary by Messrs. Jefferson and Madison, demonstrating their entire concurrence with our present Chief Magistrate. And, if any further evidence of Mr. Jefferson's views were wanting, it is to be found in his letters, already referred to, protesting against a separation of the Union, and denying the right of a State to 'veto' an act of Congress; and in many other letters to be found in his memoirs, insisting upon the power even of the old confederacy to exercise 'COERCION over its delinquent members,' the States. 'Compulsion,' he says, 'was never so easy as in our case, where a single frigate would levy on the commerce of a State the deficiency of its contributions; nor more safe than in the hands of Congress, which has always shown that it would wait, as it ought to do, to the last extremities, before it would exercise any of its powers which are disagreeable.' Here, then, we find Mr. Jefferson most distinctly admitting the power of Congress under the old, as in 1807 he admitted under the present confederacy, to compel a State by FORCE to obey the laws of the Union. Why, then, is General Jackson denounced as a tyrant, for doing that which his oath and the Constitution compel him to do? Suppose any State, by its ordinance, should arrest the passage of the mail through their limits, upon the pretext that the law was unconstitutional; the acts of Congress place at the disposal of the President the militia of any one or all of the States, or 'the land or naval force of the United States', to execute the law of the Union in every State, by whomsoever resisted or opposed. The Constitution and his oath command him to execute the laws; he must execute them, and the mail must pass on, though the edict of a single State should attempt to arrest it by nullification or secession. Such, too, was the opinion of Mr. Jefferson; and that illustrious patriot would have laid his head on the block, and blessed the hand that severed it from his body, rather than sever the Union by the promulgation of the doctrines now ascribed to him. What are the consequences of this right of a State to secede from the Union?—this right of revolution, without the power of the General Government to preserve the Union? Any one State may arrest, to-morrow, the mail of the Union, and its passage from State to State, and refuse it a passage forever. Pennsylvania, a central State, may separate the North from the South, prevent all intercommunication, render our country a republic divided and indefensible. Louisiana, purchased by taxes imposed upon the people of all the States, may secede and establish a separate and independent government, lay protective or prohibitory imposts on the imports and exports of this State and of the West, carried through her ports and the outlets of the Mississippi. She might say, I will protect my own cotton planters, by prohibitory duties on the cotton of Mississippi or the West, or the imports designed to be exchanged for it, shipped through my ports or through the outlet of the Mississippi: it is my interest to do so; for thus I can deprive the cotton planters of Mississippi and the West of a market; thus compel them to abandon the culture of that staple, and sell my own cotton at a higher price. Louisiana asserts no such doctrines; but, if she did, could Mississippi, could the West admit them? and, in the last resort, would not the Government force a passage for our imports and exports by the sword? Yes; for as well might you take the heart from the human body and bid it live, as sever Louisiana from the States that border on the Mississippi, and bid these States to prosper. No; Louisiana holds the outlet of that stream through which the life blood of their commerce and industry must forever flow; and we never could admit her right to secede from the Union, and dictate the terms on which we should use the outlet of that stream, whose banks were destined by heaven itself as the residence of a united people. Not only Louisiana, but State by State that borders on the Atlantic or the Gulf, might secede, seclude the West from the ocean, and render them the tributaries of the seaboard States, by laying prohibitory duties on their imports and exports. Could we submit to this? Not while the West contained a gun to use, or a man to shoulder it.

And may Carolina secede and establish an independent government? Did she establish her own independence? No, it was achieved by the arms and purchased by the blood of Americans, with the banner of the Union floating over them. I know the valor of Carolina, that, man to man, she is invincible; but, unaided and alone, she would have fallen in the Revolution. She would have fallen gloriously, her soil would have drunk the blood of her children; but still she must have fallen in the unequal contest. When Carolina was made the battlefield of the Revolution, from the very rock of Plymouth and the heights of Bunker Hill, from Pennsylvania, from Virginia, American citizens flew to her rescue. Side by side with Carolina's sons they marched beneath the banner of the Union; they fought, they conquered; Carolina was redeemed from bondage, but upon her many and well-fought fields was mingled the blood and repose the ashes of our common ancestors, the pledges of our Union in victory and in death.

Shades of these departed patriots! arise, and say to the sons of Carolina, it was the Union that made you free. Without it, you would yet be subjects, colonial vassals, and slaves; without it, the chains are now forging that will bind you to the thrones of despots. And could we stand with folded arms, and behold the Union dissolved? Could we see the seventeen thousand freemen of Carolina, who cling with the grasp of death to the banner of the Union, deprived of their privileges as American citizens, proscribed, disfranchised, expelled from all offices, civil and military, driven by glittering bayonets from the bench and the jury box, tried and convicted by judges and jurors sworn to condemn, attainted as traitors, torn from the last embraces of wives and children, consigned to the scaffold or the block, or immured within the walls of a dungeon, where the light of heaven or liberty should never visit them, with no consolation but their patriotism, and no companions but their chains? And, gracious Heaven, for what? Oh! Liberty, when was thy sacred temple profaned by deeds like this? Thy martyrs suffered only for clinging to the banner of the American Union. And could we see them torn from around that sacred banner, and move not to their rescue? No; the glow that beams on every countenance, the patriot's answer that speaks from every throbbing breast, proclaims that, as in '76 our fathers marched to free their sires from tyrants' power, so would their children go, to save from death or bondage Carolina's friends of union—with them, beneath the standard of our common country, to die or conquer.

Citizens of Mississippi, to you the address of the nullifying convention of Carolina makes a special appeal. It asks, if Carolina secedes from the Union, 'Can it be believed that Georgia, Mississippi, Tennessee, and even Kentucky would continue to pay a tribute of fifty per cent. upon their consumption to the Northern States for the privilege of being united to them, when they could receive all their supplies through the ports of South Carolina, without paying a single cent for tribute?' To this question, Georgia has already answered, by expressing her 'abhorrence' of the doctrine of nullification, her firm resolve to adhere to the Union. Tennessee has made the same response. Kentucky, in a voice of thunder, answers, No, we will preserve the Union as it is. And will Mississippi receive the bribe thus offered to dissolve the Union? What is it? The privilege of exchanging our exports for imports free of duty, in the ports of Carolina; and then would Carolina pay the taxes to raise and maintain an army, or a navy, and protect our commerce? But if she could, nature pronounces the project impracticable. Our commerce must flow through the outlet of the Mississippi; and how would our exports reach the ports of Carolina—how would our imports thence be received? Through the outlet of the Mississippi? No, that outlet and its ports would then be in the hands of Louisiana—in that event, to us a hostile foreign government, from which we had severed ourselves. For let it not be forgotten that Louisiana is not even invited to join this new confederacy; and if she were, is announcing her unalterable determination to adhere to the Union as it is. Then, through the outlet of the Mississippi our commerce could not be carried on with the ports of Carolina; for Louisiana, as we have seen before, would meet and stop our exports and imports with prohibitory duties. Would we move up the Mississippi or Ohio to reach the ports of Carolina, or any other market? There we would find the confederates from whom we had severed; we would find a foreign government, and prohibitory duties would exclude our access to Carolina's ports in that direction. How would we reach them? The only other route, if Georgia and Alabama would grant the boon for Carolina's benefit, would be to pass through those States by land to Charleston, with our cotton, and return by land with the imports received in exchange. A trip of one thousand miles by wagon road with cotton! The entire value of the crop would not pay for its transportation. Is this the proposition of Carolina? What is the only commerce we could carry on with her? By abandoning the culture of cotton upon our fertile lands, for the benefit of Carolina, and our planters all becoming drovers of horses, mules, and cattle, to exchange for her imports, and return with them, packed on the number unsold of our mules and horses. And are these the benefits for which we are asked to dissolve the Union, and place the channel of the Mississippi above and below, and its outlet, in the hands of a foreign government, denying a passage ascending or descending, to our imports or exports, and excluding us from the ocean altogether? If Carolina's scheme were practicable, Mississippi would not sell the Union for dollars and cents; but though the scheme might be beneficial to Carolina, by stopping the culture of cotton on our fertile soil, to the people of this State it is ruin immediate and inevitable. The remedy Carolina proposes to us for the Tariff, is worse than the disease. The disease is not mortal—it is now in a course of cure; but Carolina's remedy is death—it is suicide; for the dissolution of the Union is political suicide.

A Southern convention is proposed, of the States of North and South Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi. If the object be a confederacy of these States, without Louisiana and the Western, Middle, and Northern States, if patriotism, or love for the Union were insufficient to restrain us from attempting this fatal measure, we have seen that it would blast forever the fortunes of the planters of Mississippi. But what States will unite in this convention? Georgia has disavowed the act of the self-constituted, self-elected minority convention that acted in her name. The history of Virginia speaks in the voice of indignant rebuke to all those States that assemble sectional conventions. North Carolina, unassuming, but steadfast in support of the Union, will enter into no such convention. Alabama, if her public meetings and journals and her chief magistrate speak the voice of the State, will send no delegates. Tennessee, brave and patriotic, devoted to the Union, and sustaining its banner in war and in peace, meets the proposition with a decided refusal. I imagine, then, our delegates would return without finding this Southern convention. I am opposed to all sectional conventions. We have had one such convention, and, whatever the secret motives of its members may have been, the very fact that it was a sectional convention, that it was believed to be convened to calculate the value of the Union, that it was supposed to have in view an Eastern confederacy, has sealed the doom of its members and projectors. And when the calm shall follow the storm, a similar fate awaits all who will go into this Southern convention. I trust there never will be another partial convention, Northern, Southern, Eastern, or Western; for, whether assembled at Hartford or Columbia, they are equally dangerous to the Union of the States. They create and inflame geographical parties. Could the North, assembled in convention, have that full knowledge of the situation and wants of the people of the South, as to legislate for them, and propose ultimatums to which the South must submit, or leave the Union? Could the South possess that full knowledge of the situation and wants and interests of the people of all the other States, as to enable them to dictate the terms on which the Union should be governed or dissolved? No; it is only in a meeting of all the States, in Congress or convention, that that knowledge of the wants and interests of all, and that fusion of sentiment and opinion, and spirit of concession, can exist, in which the Constitution was framed, and all its powers should be exercised.

If we hold Southern conventions, then will there be Northern, Eastern, and Western conventions, and they will overthrow the Union. Partial confederacies will first be formed, and then, as Mr. Jefferson most truly tells us, would speedily follow the formation of a separate and independent government by each State. What is it we are asked to abandon, and for what? That Union which ushered in the morn of American Liberty, and gave birth to the Declaration of Independence; which carried our armies victoriously through the storms of the Revolution and the last war, and now waves triumphantly in every sea, the kindred emblem of our country's glory. It gave us Washington—it gave us liberty, and bears our name aloft among the nations of the earth. It is our only rampart in war—our only safeguard in peace, and under its auspices we declared, achieved, maintained, and can alone preserve our liberties. It is the only basis of our solid and substantial interests, and the last star of hope to the oppressed of every clime. Shall we calculate its value? No! for we will not estimate the value of liberty—and 'liberty and union are inseparable.' Dissolve this Union, and let each State become, as Mr. Jefferson truly tells us it would, a separate government, could we preserve our liberties? Where would be the army and navy and seamen of the State of Mississippi? how to be procured, and how to be maintained and paid? Where would be her ambassadors and treaties, her commerce—and through what ports and by whose permission would she ship her exports or introduce her imports? Who would respect her flag, who recognize her as a nation—and how would she punish aggressions upon her rights, on the ocean or the land? No, fellow citizens; the President truly tells us that 'separate independence' is a 'dream'—a dream from which we would wake in bondage or in death. But, if disgraced abroad, what would be our situation at home, as separate bordering and hostile States—and how long could we remain in peace and concord? The voice of history tells us—the bloodstained fields of our sister republics of America proclaim, that disunion would be the signal for WAR—a war of conquest, in which the weak would fall before the power of the strong; and upon the ruins of this now happy Union might arise the darkest despotism that ever crushed the liberties of mankind, for it would be established and could only be maintained by the bayonet. Perhaps, while yet the civil war should rage with doubtful issue, while exhausted and bleeding at every pore, that sanguinary alliance of despots, combined to crush the liberties of man, would send its armies to our shores. Under what standard would we rally to preserve our liberty? There would be no Union—without it there would be no strength; and those who, united, could defy the world in arms, divided would be weak and powerless. Such are the ultimate results of disunion. Let us take the first step, and all may be lost forever. That step is nullification by Carolina, then her secession—then, as she truly tells us in her address, 'the separation of South Carolina would inevitably produce a general dissolution of the Union.' And shall Carolina dissolve the Union? No; the liberties of all the States are embarked together, and if one State withdraw her single plank, the national vessel must go down to rise no more, and shipwreck the hopes of mankind. Let us then adjure the people of Carolina, by the ties of our common country and common kindred—by the ruin and disgrace which civil war will bring upon the victors and vanquished—by the untried horrors of those scenes to which disunion must conduct, to repeal her ordinance, and not to force upon us that dread alternative, in which we must support the flag of our country, or surrender our Union and liberty without a struggle: that we cannot, we will not, we dare not, surrender them; and, if forced to draw the sword to defend our liberties, the motto will gleam on every blade: 'The Union shall be preserved.' For were it abandoned, life would not be a blessing, but a curse; and happiest would those be whose eyes were closed in death ere they beheld the horrors of those scenes to which with viewless and rapid strides we seem to hasten. Well, fellow citizens, may our hearts be wrung with sorrow on this occasion, in looking back to what we were, and forward to what we may soon be. Well may the tears unbidden start, for they are the tears that patriots shed over the departing greatness of our once united, but now distracted and unhappy country.

THE SIOUX WAR.

Compared with the great storm of rebellion which has darkened and overspread our whole national sky, the Indian war on our northwestern frontier has been a little cloud "no bigger than a man's hand;" and yet, compared with similar events in our history, it has scarcely a parallel. From the days of King Philip to the time of Black Hawk, there has hardly been an outbreak so treacherous, so sudden, so bitter, and so bloody, as that which filled the State of Minnesota with sorrow and lamentation, during the past summer and autumn, and the closing scenes of which are even now transpiring. We were beginning to regard the poetry of the palisades as a thing of the past, when, suddenly, our ears were startled by the echo of the warwhoop, and the crack of the rifle, and our hearts appalled by the gleam of the tomahawk and the scalping knife, as they descended in indiscriminate and remorseless slaughter, on defenceless women and children on our border.

In the year 1851, the Sisseton, Wahpeton, M'dewakanton and Wahpekuta bands of Dacotah or Sioux Indians by treaty ceded to the United States, in consideration of certain annuities to be paid them, all their lands within the present limits of the States of Iowa and Minnesota, excepting a reservation set apart for their habitation and use, embracing a narrow strip along the southern side of the Minnesota River, of about ten miles in width and one hundred and fifty in length. To this reservation these four bands removed their people, numbering some seven thousand souls, of whom, perhaps, twelve hundred were warriors. During the eleven years which have elapsed since this treaty was made, they have lived there, the State of Minnesota being meanwhile peopled by the whites with unparalleled rapidity, and the Indians seeing flourishing and populous settlements springing up all about them. With but a single interruption, peace and amity has existed between the two races; missions, schools, and to some extent, agriculture, have been established among them; and a large number of halfbreeds, springing from marriages between white traders and Sioux women, have formed, apparently, a link of consanguinity and interest, which, aided by the influence and laws of civilization, would hereafter prevent any trouble or bloodshed on the part of the savages.

One single and very grave interruption to these peaceful relations has, however, occurred. In March, 1857, Inkpadutah, a Wahpekuta Dacotah, with a small band of followers, committed a terrible massacre near Spirit Lake, in the northwestern corner of Iowa, slaying fifty persons, and carrying away four women into captivity, two of whom were, after some months, ransomed and restored to their friends, the other two having been previously murdered by their captors. But Inkpadutah and his band were outlaws, driven away by their own people for creating internal dissensions; and although the perpetrators were never properly pursued and punished, it was not thought that the outrage had been countenanced by the rest of the nation, or that any danger existed of similar acts on their part.

The cause of the recent outbreak cannot, perhaps, be absolutely determined; the manner of its beginning is more easily traced. It must be understood that, for the purpose of receiving their annuities, the Indians, at a certain period every summer, come down from their hunting grounds to the two Agencies, one at Redwood, near Fort Ridgely, and the other at Yellow Medicine. It is the custom to keep a certain quantity of provisions at these Agencies to feed them during these visits, and also to sometimes send them supplies during times of great want and scarcity of game in winter. Unfortunately, they came last year much earlier than common, and before they had received their usual notification from the Agent, that the annuities were awaiting them. In addition, as if all the accidents were destined to be adverse, the session of Congress was very long, the Appropriation Bill, which included the Indian appropriations, did not pass until the day before the adjournment, and the immense pressure of business on the Departments, and the great difficulty of obtaining coin, all occasioned long and unusual delays. The coin, $71,000 in silver (Indians understand silver coin, and will scarcely take any other), was finally shipped by express from the sub-treasury in New York city, on the 12th of August, reached St. Paul on the 16th, and was immediately despatched by private conveyance to Yellow Medicine, via Fort Ridgely, at which latter place it arrived on the 18th.

The Indians came down to the Agency at Yellow Medicine about the middle of July, to the number of four thousand, men, women, and children. Here they remained in waiting some three weeks. Provisions, in small quantities, were given to them, but for so large a number of mouths the rations were scanty. This supply, with the few wild ducks and pigeons which they could shoot from time to time, the little flour they were able to buy on credit from the trading houses, and the half-grown potatoes they stole from the fields, enabled them to eke out a scanty subsistence.

As might be readily imagined, this state of things bred great discontent. On the morning of the 4th of August, a large number of Indians came over from their encampment, and some on horseback, and some on foot, with guns and hatchets, rushed to the door of the warehouse, cut it down, and commenced carrying out bags of flour. The few soldiers who were stationed at the Agency, were, as well as the Agent and employés, taken completely off their guard by this movement; but in a short time they recovered themselves; got a field piece loaded and turned upon the crowd, and sent a squad of soldiers to the warehouse. At these preparations, the Indians desisted; but the military force was too small to make more than a formal demonstration. The pile of flour taken out of the warehouse had not been carried away, and while the soldiers prevented this being done, the Indians placed a guard to hinder its being recovered by the whites. Thus they stood during the remainder of the day, in an attitude of mutual defiance, yet neither party was willing to inaugurate hostilities. The next morning, when the Indians again as usual flocked down to the Agency, a couple of arrests were promptly made by the guard. This had the effect of driving them all back to their camps. Almost immediately afterward they struck their tents, and removed to a distance of from two to four miles. This was looked upon at the Agency as a war movement, and all possible defensive preparations were at once made. Some of the women were sent away, guns and pistols were loaded, field pieces and troops were placed in position, and pickets were thrown out. Everything looked like war. Still there had been no actual bloodshed. Through the mediation of Rev. Mr. Riggs, who had long resided among them as a missionary, peaceful counsels finally prevailed with the Indians. Thirty-six of the chiefs met the Agent in council, smoked the pipe of peace, acknowledged their offence, and expressed their sorrow and shame at its occurrence. Three days afterward another council was held, in which they agreed to receive certain rations, and promised to induce their people to move away until the annuity money should arrive. The Agent, on his part, forgave their trespass, and promised to send for them as soon as he should be prepared to make their payment. So confident was he that the arrangement was amicable and satisfactory, that he went soon afterward to St. Paul on business, leaving his family at the Agency.

Things remained in this condition until Sunday, the 17th of August, 1862. On that day, four young Indians, belonging to Little Six's band, went to the house of Mr. Jones, at Acton, Meeker county, Minnesota. As they evinced an unfriendly disposition, Mr. Jones locked his house, and with his wife, went to the house of Mr. Howard Baker, a near neighbor, where he was followed by the Indians. They proposed to go out and shoot at a mark, but after leaving the house, suddenly turned and fired upon the party, mortally wounding Mr. and Mrs. Jones, Mr. Baker, and a Mr. Webster. Mrs. Baker, with a young child, concealed herself in the cellar and escaped. The Indians then returned to Jones' house, which they broke into, killing a young woman who had been left there. This was the first bloodshed of the war.

Up to this time there seems to have been no deliberate preparation, no concerted arrangement for the outbreak against the whites. There was excitement and discontent among the Indians on account of hunger, the delay of their payment, and the real or supposed wrongs and frauds committed by white traders and officials; but no organized hostile movement had been agreed on. They knew that a great war was in progress between the whites; that armies were being raised, and the country was being drained of men. All this was known and discussed among them. There are also grave suspicions, and not without considerable show of evidence, that rebel emissaries, Indians or half breeds from the Missouri border, had been among them fomenting the discord and urging war.

When these four young men returned on the 18th to their band, which was then with others at the Sioux Agency at Redwood, the recital of their murders created the most intense excitement among the Indians. They became infuriated at the idea of bloodshed. Before the whites were aware that trouble was brewing, Little Six's, Little Crow's, Grey Iron's, and Good Road's bands of M'dewakantons, and a part of the Lake Calhoun band, gathered around the buildings, and, with a general rush and yell, massacred the whites, some twenty-five in number, robbed and plundered the stores, and laid the whole place in ashes.

The party who were conveying the annuity money to the Agency, reached Fort Ridgely on the afternoon of the same day, and there learned that the outbreak had taken place. A garrison of about seventy-five men was in the fort at the time the news of the massacre reached it, and Captain Marsh, taking fifty of them, proceeded toward the Agency, fifteen miles up the river. In the evening twenty-one of the men returned, to tell that the detachment had fallen into an ambush, and that all the others, including the captain, were either killed or drowned.

The Indians seem to have at once despatched messengers with the news of these hostilities to the bands at the Upper Sioux Agency, at Yellow Medicine. The chiefs there immediately called their followers into council. About one hundred Sissetons, Wahpetons, and thirty young Yanktons, were present. The council was stormy, and divided in sentiment; the Sissetons urging the killing and robbing of the whites, saying the M'dewakantons had already gone so far that they could not make matters worse, and that, as the whites would inflict punishment upon all alike, the best thing to be done was to kill them and take their goods. The Wahpeton chiefs, though willing to rob the whites, insisted on sparing their lives, and sending them off with their horses and wagons across the prairies.

About one fourth of the Sioux, previous to these events, had, through the efforts of the Government and missionaries, renounced their savage life, and adopted the customs of civilization. They had cut off the hair, discarded the blanket, adopted the civilized costume, and undertaken to live by the cultivation of the earth, instead of the chase. One of the chiefs who joined in this reform was An-pe-tu-to-ke-ca, or Other-Day, an Indian of more than ordinary intelligence and ability. He had been much among the whites, and was a convert to Christianity. Some years previous, while he was at Washington city with a delegation of his tribe, a rather good-looking white woman, who had lost caste in society, fell in love with him, married him, and followed him to his Indian home in Minnesota.

Other-Day took part in this deliberation. He arose and addressed the council, warning them against the consequences of the attack they were meditating. They might succeed in killing a few whites, he told them, but extermination or expulsion would be their fate if they did. But his pacific arguments produced no effect. Toward evening, the Yanktons, Sissetons, and a few of the Wahpetons rose from the council, and moved toward the houses of the whites, to prepare for the attack. All the afternoon the Indians had been busy taking their guns to the blacksmith shop to have them repaired, which the unsuspecting smith, being told they were going on a buffalo hunt, had done.

Other-Day now left the council, took his wife and his gun, and went to warn the whites of the impending danger. They had, up to this time, known nothing whatever of the council. At his suggestion, sixty-two persons assembled in one of the Agency buildings, gathered their arms, and prepared to defend themselves. Part of the farmer Indians assisted Other-Day in standing guard round the house that night, part of them guarded the house of Rev. Mr. Riggs, their old missionary, to whom they were very much attached, and another part joined the insurgents.

Small bands of hostile Indians were seen prowling around the house during the night, and by the next morning it was nearly surrounded. At daybreak, several shots were fired near the warehouses, some distance away, and then a triumphant yell was heard from the Indians as they broke into the stores and killed the inmates. At this, the savages who had prowled around the house during the night ran off to the scene of the riot to share in the booty; and even the farmer Indians who had stood guard for the whites, excepting only Other-Day, followed them.

Other-Day now advised the whites to make their escape, and offered to pilot them out of danger. They were at first inclined to doubt his faithfulness; but in their extremity, finally consented to follow him. While the hostile Indians were occupied in the work of plundering the stores and warehouses, the whites managed to collect three two-horse wagons, and two buggies, and placing as many of the women and children as they could in these, the party, sixty-two persons in all, started off in a direction opposite to the usually travelled route. They reached and forded the Minnesota River, eluded pursuit, and after a three days' march of great severity and privation, under the faithful and successful guidance of Other-Day, they arrived at a place of safety. True among the treacherous, he should be gratefully remembered, and liberally rewarded and protected for the remainder of his life, by the people of Minnesota and the Government of the United States. When he reached St. Paul, after the escape, he wrote the following, in answer to the many questions asked him:

"I am a Dakota Indian, born and reared in the midst of evil. I grew up without the knowledge of any good thing. I have been instructed by Americans, and taught to read and write. This I found to be good. I became acquainted with the Sacred Writings, and there learned my vileness. At the present time, I have fallen into great evil and affliction, but have escaped from it; and with fifty-four men, women, and children, without moccasins, without food, and without a blanket, I have arrived in the midst of a great people, and now my heart is glad. I attribute it to the mercy of the Great Spirit.

An-pe-tu-to-ke-ca.
(Other-Day.)"

Another party of about forty persons escaped from the vicinity of Yellow Medicine, under the guidance of the missionary, Rev. Mr. Riggs, who was also warned and aided by a few of the farmer Indians.

Having thus successfully attacked and destroyed the Lower Agency, at Redwood, and the Upper Agency, at Yellow Medicine, and having obtained large supplies of arms and ammunition from the stores and warehouses they sacked at these points, part of the Indians divided into small marauding bands, and scoured the country, attacking and murdering isolated settlers, burning houses, and stealing horses and cattle; but the larger portion remained together, and, under the leadership of Little Crow, planned further attacks.

Fifteen miles below the Lower Agency, on the north bank of the Minnesota, is Fort Ridgely; and twenty miles below the fort, on the southern bank of the river, is the town of New Ulm, which, as its name indicates, is mainly populated by German settlers. Early in the afternoon of Tuesday, August 19th, a party of citizens from New Ulm, returning from a neighboring village, where they had gone to aid in recruiting volunteers for the Union army, were fired upon from an ambush by a number of mounted Indians, and several of them killed. Those who escaped had barely time to get back to New Ulm and give the alarm before the Indians advanced upon the town, and began firing at long range upon the distressed and panic-stricken inhabitants, who were huddled together, in helpless confusion, in a few of the more protected houses. Fortunately, a squad of eighteen armed men from one of the lower counties had arrived there an hour or two previous. Only six of the number had good guns; but they immediately organized themselves, and went forward to meet the savages. By dint of determined coolness and bravery, they held the Indians at bay, killing several of them, until, seeing the town reënforced by another small party of mounted whites, the savages retreated. The fight lasted two or three hours, and a number of the Germans were killed.

Beaten back from New Ulm, the Indians retraced their course up the river, and being joined by other bands, a concerted and deliberate attack was next made on Fort Ridgely. Like too many of our frontier forts, it is a fort only in name. Situated on a projecting spur of the river bluff, it is almost completely encircled by deep and wooded ravines, the edges of which are within a stone's throw of the buildings. A long, two story stone building with an ell, standing in the centre, and a number of log and frame houses ranged around it in an irregular circle, with several barns and outhouses beyond them, constitute what is called the fort, but what is really only barracks for a small number of troops.

When on Monday Captain Marsh left the fort to quell the disturbances at the Agency, only about twenty-five soldiers remained to protect it. After his party was cut up in ambush, only twenty-one, wounded and all, returned. Luckily, however, on Tuesday, two detachments of reënforcements, of about fifty men each, reached the garrison in safety. On the other hand, from the beginning of the outbreak, the women and children of the surrounding country who had escaped massacre, sometimes a whole family, sometimes only a single member—now a mother, and then a child—fresh from the scenes of savage violence and blood, had been fleeing to the fort for safety, until the number had been swelled to some three hundred. Six cannon, a few old condemned muskets, and considerable supplies of provisions were fortunately in the fort. Such hurried preparations for defence as could be, were soon made. Small squads of Indians were seen prowling about during Monday and Tuesday, but they were promptly scattered by a shell from the howitzer, accurately planted by the veteran artillery sergeant who was in charge of the guns.

At a quarter past three o'clock on Wednesday afternoon, about three or four hundred Indians, led by Little Crow, advanced under cover of the woods and ravines to the attack of the garrison. It was a complete surprise, the first announcement being a deadly volley through one of the north entrances into the parade ground of the fort. For a moment there was uncontrollable confusion and alarm among the whites, and had a storming assault immediately followed, the fort must have fallen. The garrison, however, quickly rallied, manned the guns, and poured a steady fire on their assailants. The Indians, as usual, took shelter behind every available cover—trees, ravines, outhouses, high grass and logs—the whites directing their return shots as best they could. In this way, a brisk fusilade was kept up until half-past six o'clock in the evening. A number of the outbuildings were fired by the enemy, but the flames did not reach the fort. The houses that remained nearer the fort were destroyed by the garrison after the enemy withdrew. The garrison lost twelve or fifteen men killed and wounded in this engagement.

A night of terrible anxiety and suspense succeeded, but there was no further disturbance. On the next day, Thursday, two more attacks, each lasting about half an hour, were made, one at nine o'clock in the morning, and the other at six in the evening, but they were much feebler than the previous one, and easily repulsed.

The final and most desperate attack occurred on Friday, the twenty-second. The garrison was engaged in strengthening its defences, when, at one o'clock in the afternoon, the sentinel saw at two miles distance great numbers of Indians approaching on horseback. As they neared the fort they dismounted, and advancing from three different points under cover of the ravines, where the shells from the field pieces could do them but little damage, they opened a terrible fire on the garrison. But the previous two days' siege had steadied the nerves of the whites, and they received the onslaught coolly, reserving their fire until they could obtain a fair view of the enemy, and do effective execution. The "big guns," of which Indians stand in so great dread, were also well served. The fight raged all the afternoon, from two until half past six o'clock. Once the savages pressed up so near that the halfbreeds in the fort could distinguish the shout of the chiefs ordering a charge for the purpose of capturing the guns. It was a concerted movement; a feint to draw the fire of the field pieces, and an immediate rush was made to secure them before they could be reloaded. But the old artillery sergeant was not to be trapped; he reserved the fire of his own gun, and when the storming party emerged into open view, he planted a shell among them which sent them howling back to their shelter. At nightfall the savages reluctantly gave up the siege and retired, carrying away a considerable number of killed and wounded. Those in the fort escaped miraculously; only one man being killed, and three or four slightly wounded.

The next morning, Saturday, the Indians were seen again approaching the fort, apparently to renew the attack; but it was soon discovered they were withdrawing, to wreak their thwarted vengeance on the devoted town of New Ulm. In the interim since the first attack, the town had been reënforced by about one hundred volunteers, and had also been put in a partial state of defence. Fire, murder, and pillage marked the way of the savages toward it; the garrison noted their approach by the clouds of smoke which the burning dwellings of the settlers sent up to heaven.

The Indians reached and again attacked New Ulm, on Sunday morning at about eleven o'clock. The commanding officer of the whites had placed pickets, and a considerable part of his force to support them, along the outer edge of the town toward the foe; but so fierce and impetuous was the attack, that the whites were forced back into the town at the first onset of the enemy, giving them possession of several of the outer buildings, from which they pushed their further operations. But the garrison soon rallied, and obstinately held their ground. Finding themselves so unexpectedly held at bay, the Indians, who were to the windward, set fire one after another to the buildings they held, thus literally burning their way into the town. All day long this continued. Toward evening, the whites found they had been forced back, inch by inch, by the fire and smoke and the swift leaden messengers of death, until nearly one half of the town was lost; but they rallied once more, made a vigorous charge on the foe, and drove them out. At this the Indians withdrew, forming themselves into three parties, and camped a short distance off, making the night hideous with fiendish yells and the horrid music of their war dances. During the night the garrison retreated into a still smaller and more defensible part of the town, committing the rest to flames. A brief demonstration was made by the enemy on the following morning, but finding the whites so well posted, they finally abandoned the contest and withdrew. The whites, exhausted and cut up, joyfully welcomed a cessation of hostilities. During the day they evacuated the town, bringing off what remained of the garrison in safety. In this battle they lost ten killed, and about fifty wounded, while the Indians lost about forty. They were seen to haul off four wagon loads of dead.

The events thus far narrated cover a period of nine days, and, though forming the principal ones, were by no means the only events of that brief time. The contagion of murder, arson, and rapine spread over the whole area of country on which the Indians lived and roved, embracing a district one hundred miles in width by two hundred in length. Fort Abercrombie, situated at the upper end of this vast tract, was surrounded and besieged, as Fort Ridgely at the lower end had been. Throughout the intermediate region, scattering parties of the savages appeared in the isolated villages and settlements, spreading death and desolation. Local conditions exaggerated and heightened the horrors of the insurrection. The population of Minnesota, and particularly of these exposed regions, unlike that of the lower Western States, whose settlers, trained in border warfare, were familiar with savage craft and cruelty, and inherited the prowess and spirit of daring adventure which possessed Daniel Boone, was largely made up of foreign emigrants, Germans, French, Norwegians, and Swedes. They were unaccustomed to danger, and unused to arms. They had lived for years in confidence and daily intercourse with the Indians. Engaged in the absorbing labor of building and providing their new homes, they were without guns or other weapons of defence. Still worse, the war for the Union had called into its ranks a large proportion of their young, active, and able-bodied men, and left only the women and children to gather the harvest and guard the hearthstone. Upon their heads this storm burst suddenly, and with a terror which deprived them of all courage and resource to resist it. Emboldened by the feeble opposition they met, and maddened by the carnival of blood in which they rioted, the savages indulged in cruelties and barbarities too horrible to recount in detail. The Governor of Minnesota, in a special message to the Legislature of the State, thus paints them:

'Infants hewn into bloody chips of flesh, or nailed alive to door posts to linger out their little life in mortal agony, or torn untimely from the womb of the murdered mother, and in cruel mockery cast in fragments on her pulseless and bleeding breast; rape joined to murder in one awful tragedy; young girls, even children of tender years, outraged by their brutal ravishers, till death ended their shame and suffering; women held in captivity to undergo the horrors of a living death; whole families burned alive; and as if their devilish fury could not glut itself with outrages on the living, its last efforts exhausted in mutilating the bodies of the dead; such are the spectacles, and a thousand nameless horrors besides, which their first experience of Indian war has burned into the brains and hearts of our frontier people.'....

A wild panic ensued. Those who escaped the tomahawk and scalping knife fled in consternation and dismay, abandoning their little earthly all, leaving their cattle astray on the prairies, and their crops uncut and ungathered in the fields; some fleeing with such precipitation as to leave their food untouched on the table, where but a moment before it had been spread for the daily repast. Women and children wandered for days in the woods, subsisting on nuts and berries. Every road was lined with fugitives, and all the villages were crowded with their surrounding population. The refugees poured by hundreds into the city of St. Paul, situated from eighty to one hundred and fifty miles from the scenes of the outbreak; and many, who were able to do so, embarked on the first departing steamers, and hurried away from the State. It is estimated that ten large and flourishing counties were almost completely depopulated.