terers. They will still gaze with reverence on the venerable lawgivers of civilization, the majestic group of Menus, Solons, Lycurguses, and Normas.

The pen, creating the conditions of progress, multiplying the resources of society by imparting the experience of the superior to the inferior, is made eternally necessary by the very nature and destiny of man. The sword is merely made a temporary necessity by the opposition which the ignorant and obstinate passions of man interpose to his own development. The only genuine composing and settlement of the strifes of men consist in the reconciliation of jarring interests, the attuning of the thoughts and feelings of discordant parties. This is always ultimately the work of peaceful reason. Invariably, after the sword is wiped and withdrawn, the pen is wet and wins. The flourishing of a wilderness of swords for years terminates in the translation of the propositions of a few idealists into the institutions of a people, the altering of the private parchment of a prophetic writer into the constitution of a nation, making the testament of some thoughtful martyr for liberty the Magna Charta of England. So it will prove in this colossal and portentous rebellion of ours. The true triumph will be moral, a task of pacific statesmanship. The proclamation by Lincoln of the emancipation of the injured and hapless millions of the black race will shine down the vistas of posterity far more brilliantly than the capture of New Orleans or Vicksburg. The amendment of the Constitution, abolishing slavery forever throughout the United States, was a deed incomparably superior to the victory of Gettysburg. For the end must be greater than the means, and in a civil war the only real end is that result which permanently joins the interests of all in liberty and justice.

Humanity will delight to peruse the lines of ink, and ponder their significance unreckonable ages after it has ceased to shudder at the stab of the steel. As we walk through an arsenal and see the piles of guns, they look like the pipes of some dread organ charged with the horrible dissonants of the past. The rich heaps of gold pens arrayed in cases along the shelves of a manufactory, resemble bright banks of keys commanding the blessed harmonies of the future.

The last sword will be broken by the fall of a pen upon it. But the last pen will be seen only when the last man is ready to disappear.

A GOOD USE OF ROMAN CANDLES.

THE Construction of the firework called the Roman candle is known to most of our readers, and the fact is familiar that when fired they project, in succession, and at intervals of about three seconds, a number of brilliantly luminous balls. These balls are thrown many feet, and cast a clear light for two or three seconds. We doubt whether the military use of the candles we instance has ever before been made.

At the siege of Knoxville, the enemy attempted to storm before daylight one of the forts-we have forgotten the name, but it was the one before which the wires which so conveniently tripped up the enemy were arranged. In this fort was stationed Lieutenant Charles Herzog, of the Signal Corps, and as a part of his equipment he was furnished with twenty or thirty Roman candles, containing about twelve balls each. When used as signals the candles are fired vertically, and the balls are visible at a great distance.

The Lieutenant knew of this use of his candles, but it needed the inspiration of battle to develop the other. He had it. Before dawn, one day, the pickets were driven in, and the enemy were swarming after them. They came on over a crest about eight hundred yards distant, and our great guns opened, but the aim was wild-there was need of light. LIGHT there must be, or the heavy masses thronging up to the work would sweep its parapet, and the day was lost. Then came the inspiration. At the first aların the faithful officer had sent his signal-balls whirling into the air, announcing the alarm to every distant station. With the gleam of its balls an idea gleamed upon him. His action, as it, was instant. Putting his match to another candle, he aimed it fairly over the heads of the enemy, and as they came closing up, the sparkling balls, hanging over them, revealed to Johnny Reb not only that there was to be no surprise of that fort, but that his own dark ways were to be lighted. The experiment was a success. The great crowd of charging rebels stood out in fair relief in the glare-the distance had lessened to about three hundred yards and our pieces, crammed with canister, opened on a mark perhaps as good as could have been had by daylight— only the light was not continuous. The stanch Lieutenant did not fail in expedients. He sent half his candles by one of his assistants to the opposite angle of the fort, and then they opened fire together, crossing fire above and in front of the enemy. Now a ball was in the air all the time. Those who have seen batteries of Roman candles at displays of fireworks can appreci ate the effect. It puzzled the enemy, and it amazed them: inany of the wild white trash had never seen a Roman candle-how

could they tell but these were some infernal explosions of " Yankee device?" It lighted up all the ground to the very edge of the ditch, and musketry and cannon-shot swept into their ranks in storms. That they came on and bravely, we know; and that they left in front of the work more in dead and wounded by almost twice than its garrison. It was useless. They were fairly and thoroughly whipped. In twenty minutes all was over, and the last of Herzog's candles lighted up a completely baffled enemy.

Now, no one can tell how much the darkness might have aided such an assault, or how much the light impeded it; the use of the candles has seemed to me so good that I have thought I would tell you the story for the good it may do some other soldier. Lieutenant Herzog told me about it; but if you wait until he writes to the SERVICE MAGAZINE of any thing he has done himself, the world will never know it.

STORY OF A BRIGADE.

In the spring of the year 1863, five regiments that had been scattered among several brigades of the Army of the Potomac were united in one organization, and it is of their military history, covering a period of about two years, that I propose to give a slight sketch. The time thus embraced includes the records of three campaigns: one, a humiliating failure, the other two bright with victory and fruitful of good result. I refer to those of Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, and Chattanooga. Now that the terrible struggles of four years have wrought their work, and the sweet spring blossoms that again gladden us are fitting emblems of a peace whose fruition is not far distant, it is with mixed pride and pain that we recall the past. With every exultant feeling is mingled the remembrance of some fallen comrade, over whose quiet grave Virginia pines are mournfully sighing, or who sleeps his last sleep in the shadow of huge mountains by the rapid Tennessee. There rise before me now the figures of two officers, members of the same military family with myself, with whom I spent many a pleasant hour, and who looked forward as eagerly as I to that day of which we see the dawn: both perfectly gallant-the one, quiet, cool, impassive; the other, eager, impatient, with blood at fever-heat. The latter, at Resaca, cheering on his men, fell with his hand on the enemy's gun; the former, refusing to surrender at a time when surrender meant worse than death, was mortally wounded in that terrible onset before Atlanta with which Hood signalized his succession to the command of Johnston's army. It is only when death is thus brought home.

that we realize the extent of that sacrifice, consecrated with. blood and tears, which we have offered up in expiation of our national sin.

The regiments forming the brigade were all from the same State, and the esprit de corps thus engendered exercised a notable influence upon them during their entire career. Two of the five were unhappily enlisted for the short term, and no sooner had they become thoroughly drilled than we had the aggravation of bidding them good-by, and of losing the services of sixteen hundred as fine-looking men as ever donned the army blue. The others were three-years troops, and now bear on their banners the proud title, "Veteran Volunteers."

There was just time to get matters into shape when headquarter orderlies began to ride both night and day, and the sending of baggage to the rear sounded the note of preparation for the spring campaign. The field hospitals were emptied, their inmates shipped to Washington for distribution, and surgeons examined knives and saws with that critical eye which gives one an uncomfortable sensation in leg and arm. Pioneer corps were carefully inspected, panniers fitted and axes sharpened, rank and file were reshod and provided with cap and cartridge, and after careful investigation and report by a board of officers, it was decided that men could carry eight days' marching rations by making the knapsack bear a part of the burden.

No one connected with the Army of the Potomac at that period can fail to remember how superb was its organization. A rigid system of accountability had been established, and, through the untiring and impartial labors of the Inspector's Department, the vast and intricate machinery of an army of over a hundred thousand effective men moved with the precision of clockwork. The constant toil needed to accomplish this result was amply repaid by its priceless value during the ensuing campaign. The confusion that would inevitably have followed the forcing of our lines at Chancellorsville, but for the simple device of a corps-badge, was apparent to all, and with the immense bodies of troops that were concentrated on the few roads, it would otherwise have been impossible for a man who had once lost his comrades to have rejoined them for days. Cries of "Boys, did you see the white cross about here?" or the blue crescent, or the red diamond, as it might be, filled the air, and some one would be sure to have the information needful in each case. Too much credit cannot be given for this to General Hooker and his efficient aids; and when we recollect also that the cavalry had been rescued from the slough in which they had so long been laboring, and formed into a compact body of mounted soldiers, fit and eager for hard service, we begin to

estimate the debt due an officer who, in some respects, has no superior in the American service.

At seven A. M. of the 27th of April, 1863, we broke camp amid enthusiastic cheering, and, heading southwest, marched swiftly towards the Rapidan. Crossing the Rappahannock at Kelly's Ford, we pressed on, one division of our corps wading, at Germania Ford, water to the armpits, and capturing a company of rebel soldiers, who were quietly rebuilding the bridge. I shall never forget the scene which that night exhibited. We had halted in the evening and formed at the side of the road, in order to allow the Eleventh Corps to pass us: huge fires had been built on both sides of the river, and, as they lit up the rough foot-bridge that had been hastily constructed, were reflected in the swift-flowing waters. Long lines of glistening bayonets wound down to the stream, and the air was filled with the songs of the Fatherland. Above and below, horsemen stemmed the current and emerged, dripping, upon the opposite shore. All was gladness, for our march had been eminently successful; we had gained the desired position, threatening Lee's line of retreat, and general orders announced that he had now no alternative but to leave his intrenchments and face us on an open field. The bugles, until then dumb, sang out a cheery reveille on the morning of the 30th, and the army went into position, with its flanks resting on the Rappahannock and its centre just beyond the house which gave name to the coming battle.

It was our fortune to be buried in a dense thicket of scrub-oak, our line crossing the plank-road and running at an acute angle with it. Here we were for the better part of two days, pecked at by sharpshooters, who might come within ten yards of the pickets without being seen, and cursing the whippoorwills and the fate that immured us in so dismal a spot. As for these wretched birds, they became unmitigated nuisances, and in the long, weary hours that we lay there anxiously awaiting an assault, their shrill cries became ominous as the croakings of ravens. As soon as our position had been selected, on Friday morning, we advanced for about a mile to reconnoitre the ground in our front; and, with all deference to the ability of the engineer officer who superintended the lines, it is difficult to understand why we were ordered back from the fine, high, open country that we then traversed, into the lower brushwood officially assigned us. A field piled with cordwood seemed to invite us to intrench ourselves, and guns there placed in position could have swept an advancing column. Immediately on our retiring a rebel battery was posted on this locality, and proved a most serious annoyance. In fact, the next afternoon, when Lee was believed to be in full retreat, our division was ordered out to capture it, but just as we had formed, and were