under which they fought, and the gilded names of Roanoke Island, Port Hudson, or Fort Fisher, where they received their wounds and won their promotion.*

This, let it be remembered, was the regiment that refused to sign a petition to President Lincoln for an exchange, when our government had suspended such exchanges, on the ground of some inequality and unfairness it was seeking to remedy. They refused to sign such a petition lest it might "embarrass the government in its dealings with the Rebellion." ("Connecticut in the War," Chap. XXXII.)

Another incident occurred at the close of those ceremonies, which illustrates the Governor's regard for the mass of the people, their freedom of access to him, and their attachment to him. An old man came and wished to speak with the Governor's daughter. "You remember," he said, "that when your father was first Governor, he used to ride a beautiful parade horse called the 'Pathfinder.' That was my horse, and after his second or third election, I came into the city and went to the State House to tell him I was glad he was chosen again." "O yes," his daughter said, "we all remember that beautiful horse, and how he enjoyed riding it." "Well,' said your father, I suppose I can have your "Pathfinder" again.' 'No,' I told him, "Pathfinder" is dead.' What?' said he. Then I don't see how I am to be Governor,' laying his hand on my knee." And the tears ran down the old man's face, as much out of

* The writer remembers, in visiting the Capitol with his grandsons, and pointing o it the flag of the Sixteenth Regiment (the unfortunate one with its Andersonville experience, whose fresh new flag bore on it a little shield made up of bits of the old one, which the men tcre in pieces and concealed about their persons when they were captured), that an old soldier came up and said of another standard by its side, "This is my flag." We did not need to ask him how he had fared under it, for his arm was gone at the shoulder. Soon another joined him and said that the next standard was the one he fought under, and being asked if he had escaped all injury, he showed a wooden leg. Then came a third, saying: "The Sixteenth was my regiment." And when we said: "Well, my friend, you seem to have fared better than your comrades;" "Oh, yes," he replied, "but we all lived on the same rich soup in prison." And these are scenes that will be repeated as long as there are veterans to tell of such things, or they have descendants to rehearse such pathetic stories

regret at disappointing his friend as at the loss of his favorite horse.

Thus the people of Connecticut have enshrined in their Capitol building to immortality, so far as marble and bronze can do it, the most precious and suggestive memorials of their late war. And whatever may befall them in the convulsions of nature, or the revolution of empires, they transmit them still more imperishably to the pages of history, which must remain so long as there shall be any human beings here to read them, and human history to be read. Parents will tell of such things to their children, and children's children will repeat the story to their children. Posterity will read of such deeds done by their ancestors, and as they read the same blood will be stirred in their veins, and they be roused to equal heroism when it is called for.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

TO THE PEOPLE OF CONNECTICUT.

A Reminder of What They Have Been-What Made Them What They are-The Character They Have to Maintain.

An organist hardly feels that his musical service is complete, without a suitable postlude to his performance, as well as a prelude. And as the author of this memoir has had as much regard for you in this work, as for your Governor, he takes the liberty of calling attention to certain of your characteristics as a people, which stood you in good stead in all the crises of the war; to certain influences and events in your earlier history to which you owe such characteristics, and to what should be the benefits of some of your recent history to your State and to posterity.

To the Southerner, all New Englanders were Yankees in the most objectionable meaning of the term. But the Connecticut Yankee was a peculiar species of the class, bright, sharp for business, loving money and never spending it except to make more. There was something nasal about his voice, and awkward about his manners, and he had no fine qualities of blood and breeding. In older times when men in public life were not so sectional or partisan, and personal friendships were formed stronger than afterwards, we used to hear of the pleasantries that passed between Southerners and Northerners; like that of the one who saw a drove of mules going by the Capitol at Washington, and called his brother Senator to the window to see a company of his constituents, and the reply was, "Yes, they are going South to teach school." Down to the very opening of the war, when a Southern mother, standing with her boy

before Washington's noble statue at Richmond, was heard teaching him: "There, my son, you see Washington is turning his back upon the North, and only looks with satisfaction and blessing upon the South;" the South had this low opinion of you, and instilled it into their children.

But how unjust this opinion was your history had shown, and your coming action was to do away with it forever. Your country was a rough one, and your climate vigorous for half the year, so that industry and economy had to be considered prime virtues. You had to do your own work, or pay for it when done by others. But you knew how to accumulate your gains, and use them as capital for larger enterprises; you made your water power drive your machinery, and by invention improved your machinery and methods of business until you could not only bring cotton from the South and return it in clothing to advantage, but export it also to the ends of the earth; you utilized the very ice of your ponds as well as the timber of your forests and the clay of your valleys, together with the granite from your hills, to furnish yourselves and others with the comforts and benefits of a higher civilization.

You knew the value of education and Christianity also. You would not incorporate towns even on the outposts of civilization, unless they would provide schools and churches with an educated ministry. You must have your colleges almost from the first, and sent your contributions to Harvard until you could support one of your own. And when those twelve ministers (with little more than their piety, and a few books) founded the one which has since grown into your noble University, with its various departments of literature, theology, philosophy, natural science, sociology, law and medicine, where so many of the statesmen and professional men and scientists of the land have been trained for the last two centuries, it is proof that you have always valued other things than money, and have labored

as hard to secure the former as the latter. Your common schools, free to all, have been cheerfully sustained by those who have had anything to be taxed, whether they had any children or not. Your State, if we mistake not, was the first to set apart a school fund of $2,000,000 for this purpose. And the result has been, that it is rare to find one of your native population who cannot read and write,-read the newspapers and books, and write an intelligible letter, and affix his signature to his own will.

You have been learning, too, the best use of property. When so many are giving liberally out of their competency or their wealth, and many more out of straitened means or even poverty, to whatever will promote the public good, the relief of distress, the elevation of the oppressed, the promotion of better morals, the most thorough Christianization of this country, and the evangelization of the whole world, who can say that this is not the greatest and best attainment that can be made in this age of progress? When we think of the possibilities that are open to us in this direction;-in the intellectuality and education of the people, which would put the wealth of science more fully into our possession, the skill of trained artisanship, the resources of invention, the treasures of history and the refinements of art; when moral and religious culture shall have saved us from the exhaustless waste of vice and fraud, to say nothing of needless incompetency and reckless mismanagement in business, and especially when there shall be enough of the spirit of Christianity in the community to make us "fear God and keep his commandments," "love our neighbor as we love ourselves," seek "another's wealth," as well as our own, be "kind one to another, tender hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven us;"what mines of wealth, priceless in value and limitless in extent, are found all around us, if they were only developed! There could hardly be a better illustration of this subject,