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morality and crime. We hope for a security beyond the law and above the law, in the prevalence of enlightened and well principled moral sentiment. We hope to continue and prolong the time when, in the villages and farm-houses of New England, there may be undisturbed sleep within unbarred doors. And knowing that our Government rests directly on the public will, that we may preserve it, we endeavor to give a safe and proper direction to that public will.

We do not, indeed, expect all men to be philosophers or statesmen, but we confidently trust, and our expectation of the duration of our system of government rests on that trust, that by the diffusion of general knowledge and good and virtuous sentiments, the political fabric may be secure, as well against open violence and overthrow, as against that slow but sure undermining of licentiousness.


OUR duty is to maintain American nationality. I believe, as devoutly as I bow to the Sermon on the Mount, that God summons us to "bend each corporal agent" and all the fibers of the soul to that work now. Our nationality, we repeat, has its charter and seal not in a written constitution so much as in the trend of a coast-the trough of a glorious valley, grooved by the finger of Omnipotence, the most princely domain of the globe-the course and sweep of a history more manifestly providential than any since the deliverance from Egypt and the settlement of Palestine. If we can feel what traditions mean-if we are open to the inspiration of great characters, noble as any in the secular annals of our planet-if we are not dead to the call of a long-compacted and holy trust, we shall confess that we have one great duty, one supreme privilege, rather, in these terrible days, namely, to devote all that we have, and are, and hope to be, to the maintenance of the nation which God has delivered in its fresh magnificence to the keeping of our valor and patriotism. Make the preservation

of nationality the goal of all action, the touchstone of all politics. Stand for every thing that serves that. Resist every thing, reject every thing, pour impassioned scorn upon every thing that opposes that. If a man or a party talks State sovereignty, say that the only real sovereignty a State can have is in consenting to fit, like a rib, into the national back-bone. It loses its sovereignty when it sets up to be what God never made it to be-a whole body. If a man or a party talks of the Tennessee River, or the Cumberland, show him the Ohio, into which they flow. If he talks the Ohio, point him to Cairo, where it pours into a mightier tide. If he talks the Yellowstone or the Platte, or the Kansas, or the Arkansas, tell him that the nation holds, to-day, the springs of all these, and that they hurry with their American contributions to the stream over whose mouth the American banner floats secure. If he talks the Sacramento, in the dialect of State sovereignty or secession, tell him that he had better smother his pestilent breath in the muddiest portion of its waves.


WHEN the first gun was fired on Sumter, the nation was insulted; when her flag struck to rebels, the outrage was complete. That flag, like a bright meteor, had penetrated every land and floated upon every sea. Its stars were the coronet of freedom; its stripes were the scourges of oppression. Around its folds twined thickly clustering memories of a nation's greatness, grandeur and benignity. An emblem of glory, it controlled the dearest affections of the heart, and oftentimes brought tears of emotion to the eye or shouts of triumph to the lip. Its glorious beauty sprang from the tracery of woman's gentle hand, while its might prevailed above the roar of battle. Upon that floating drapery the eye of infancy had rested in its first moment of perception, and unto it had fondly turned the old man's last and dying gaze. Aye, and the hero when he fell upon the field crept to its cherished presence and there died in its embrace. When



Chatham, in a burst of startling eloquence, appealed to the venerable ancestry of England, whose portraits lined the walls of Parliament around him, and, by a strange illusion, wrested their very presence from the portals of the tomb, he evoked no influences more august, no holier thrill than that old flag inspires in every patriot breast. Wherever it appears, it is the symbol of power and the shield of safety. Who clings to it, not all the tyrants of the earth can tear from its protection, not even those who tore Becket trembling from the altar. And yet, strange paradox, if to a Roman prætor the panting suppliant could cry in vain, “I am a Roman citizen," what wonder that that flag, although invincible abroad, should be contemned by rebel hearts at home. O, the depth of the disgrace! O, the burning vehemence of the revenge! Not all the efforts of a potent aristocracy could rescue Verres from his doom; nor can those gloomy malcontents escape who trailed the standard of their country in the dust. But the dishonor of that flag was the salvation of the people. The whole nation sprang to arms. The spirit of the fathers still glowed in the breasts of their descendants. It was Massachusetts who first sounded the tocsin of alarm, and reared the standard of resistance in the olden time; it was Massachusetts who first sprang to arms in the rebellion of the present hour. Steadily and firmly, State by State, her sisters wheeled into the line of battle, until, from ocean unto ocean, there arose a host more mighty than the armies of Sennacherib. Upon many a bloody field, from Roanoke to Shiloh; through the thick horrors of a civil strife; amid want, privation, and exposure; with a courage no danger could appall, a resolution no impediment could overcome, and a gallantry no opposition could resist, they have again proclaimed before the startled world the power, the prowess, and the perpetuity of these United States.



FAUGH! Pah! Whewgh! That filthy tobacco-smoke! It's enough to kill any decent woman. You know I hate tobacco, and yet you will do it.

You don't intend to stay out till two in the morning? How do you know what you'll do when you get among such people? Men can't answer for themselves when they get boozing one with another. They never think of their poor wives, who are grieving and wearing themselves out at home. A nice headache you'll have to-morrow morning—or rather this morning; for it must be past twelve. You wont have a headache? It's very well for you to say so, but I know you will; and then you may nurse yourself for me. Ha! that filthy tobacco again? No; I shall not go to sleep like a good soul. How's people to go to sleep when they're suffocated?

Yes, Mr. Caudle, you'll be nice and ill in the morning! But don't you think I'm going to let you have your breakfast in bed, like Mrs. Prettyman. I'll not be such a fool. No; nor I won't have discredit brought upon the house by sending for soda-water early, for all the neighborhood to say, "Caudle was drunk last night." No: I've some regard for the dear children, if you havn't. No: nor you shan't have broth for dinner. Not a neck of mutton crosses my threshold, I can tell you.


You won't want soda, and you wont wan't broth? All the better. You wouldn't get 'em if you did, I can assure you. Dear, dear, dear! That filthy tobacco! I'm sure it's enough to make me as bad as you are. Talking about getting divorced,—I'm sure tobacco ought to be good grounds. How little does a woman think, when she marries, that she gives herself up to be poisoned! You men contrive to have it all of your own side, you do. Now, if I was to go and leave you and the children, a pretty noise there'd be.

Yes, I see how it will be. Now you've once gone to a tavern, you'll always be going. You'll be coming home tipsy every night; and tumbling down and breaking your leg, and putting out your shoulder; and bringing all sorts of disgrace and expense

upon us.



And then you'll be getting into a street fight-oh! I know your temper too well to doubt it, Mr. Caudle-and be knocking down some of the police. And then I know what will follow. It must follow. Yes, you'll be sent for a month or six weeks to the treadmill. Pretty thing that, for a respectable tradesman, Mr. Caudle, to be put upon the treadmill with all sorts of thieves and vagabonds, and—there, again, that horrible tobacco!—and riffraff of every kind. I should like to know how your children are to hold up their heads, after their father has been upon the treadmill?—No; I won't go to sleep. And I'm not talking of what's impossible. I know it will all happenevery bit of it. If it wasn't for the dear children, you might be ruined and I wouldn't so much as speak about it, but-oh, dear, dear! at least you might go where they smoke good tobacco-but I can't forget that I'm their mother. At least, they shall have one parent. Oh! that hor-hor-i-ble to-bac-co!


SCENE-A Court of Justice in North Carolina.

A BEARDLESS disciple of Themis rises, and thus addresses the Court:-"May it please your worships, and you, gentlemen of the Jury, since it has been my fortune (good or bad, I will not say) to exercise myself in legal disquisitions, it has never befallen me to be obliged to prosecute so direful, marked, and malicious an assaultt—a more willful, violent, dangerous battery—and finally, a more diabolical breach of the peace has seldom happened in a civilized country; and I dare say, it has seldom been your duty to pass upon one so shocking to benevolent feelings, as this which took place over at Captain Rice's in this county. But you will hear from the witnesses."

The witnesses being sworn, two or three were examined and deposed-one said that he heard the noise, and did not see the fight; another that he seen the row, but didn't know who struck first-and a third, that he was very drunk, and couldn't say much about the skrimmage.

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