management.

Nevertheless the worst of the intended mischief was prevented, the subtle plot was made a failure, and all that could be said and done, before or after election-day, could not convince any large number of sound-minded voters that the beginning of an offer of actual peace had been made or intended. That is, of peace on any such terms as those set forth by Mr. Lincoln. The country, as a whole, had finally decided, in its heart of hearts, that it was not willing to have any other kind of peace, live or die.

The Opposition made only fairly good profit by its two months of preparation, and learned no wisdom at all. When its National Convention came together at Chicago, it made Governor Seymour, of New York, its presiding officer, and Vallandigham, of Ohio, the chairman of its committee on resolutions. The latter crept back from his grotesque banishment in the Confederate lines just about in time to frame the platform of grievances upon which Mr. Lincoln was to be assailed.

The platform recited duly all known complaints against the Administration, and demanded a cessation of hostilities. It was a foregone necessity that even such an absurd agglomeration of discontent should appeal in some way to loyal sentiment, and some loyalty was therefore put in. A further attempt was made in the nomination of General McClellan as the Democratic candidate for President. George H. Pendleton, of Ohio, was named for Vice-President. It is only bare justice to General McClellan to record that it soon appeared that he felt very strangely about that platform and about his remarkable associates and indorsers. He had had his difficulties with Mr. Lincoln, indeed, and he had views of his own as to the management of the war, but he had never done anything to entitle or condemn him to rank with the kind of men who had been foremost in giving him that nomination. The speedy reports of his personal and honorable discontent sent quite a large number of sensible voters over to Mr. Lincoln's support. The Democratic Convention closed its session with a covert

threat which had a half-way revolutionary sound and scared men away from them. It did not dissolve, as is customary with such bodies, but adjourned, "subject to be called at any time and place that the National Executive Committee may designate."

Important Union successes in the field aided materially in solidifying the good effect produced by the action of the Democratic Convention. Telegraphic reports of victories were unpleasant commentaries upon editorial or other assertions that "the conduct of the war by the Lincoln despotism has been and is a disgraceful failure.”

It could but be manifest to all that the President had at his disposal the enormous and ubiquitous machinery of the government. The Opposition determined to prop their failing fortunes with the assertion that he was using his power as the national Executive to secure his own re-election.

In a reply to a delegation of loyal Marylanders, early in October, he said:

"I therefore say that, if I live, I shall remain President until the fourth of March, and that whoever shall be constitutionally elected in November shall be duly installed as President on the fourth of March; and, in the interval, I shall do my utmost that whoever is to hold the helm for the next voyage shall start with the best chance of saving the ship."

Now at such a time there might possibly be raised a question as to who, after the votes were counted, was "constitutionally elected." Even in advance it might be effectively charged that Mr. Lincoln was already using his power to prevent a constitutional election. An excellent opportunity for getting a little mischief ready beforehand was afforded by the course of events in Tennessee. Andrew Johnson, the Republican candidate for Vice-President, was military governor of that State, in process of reconstruction. The convention called to reorganize the State had been composed of unconditional Union men, and had provided an oath to be taken by all voters at

the elections, which it also provided for. This was an oath of loyalty which could have been truthfully taken by only a small minority of the delegates to the Chicago Convention, although it contained no word which could have troubled the conscience of any loyal citizen of the United States. The cry was loudly raised that this was a trick of the Administration to prevent "the McClellan men" of Tennessee from voting. To strengthen the cry, a committee of such men was chosen to bear a written protest to the President, at Washington. They came and he received them, but for once his overtasked patience gave way. The committee afterwards reported that he received them "roughly." That he even said to their chairman:

"I expect to let the friends of George B. McClellan manage their side of this contest in their own way, and I will manage my side of it in my way." In reply to their demand for an answer in writing, as they reported, he said:

"Not now. Lay those papers down here. I may or may not write something about this hereafter. I know you intend to make a point of this. But go ahead. You have my answer."

If the report be correct, and it may be, Mr. Lincoln betrayed irritation. A pitfall was opened before him and he was asked to tumble into it, and there was a lack of courtesy in the manner of his immediate refusal. Critical people declared that he should have rejected the mud-hole with grace and dignity. He rejected it, at all events, and with force, in a written communication, dated the 22d of October, which left the Opposition no profit whatever from that speculation. The McClellan ticket was ostentatiously withdrawn from Tennessee, on the alleged ground that its supporters there could not take the oath.

CHAPTER LIII.

THE NATION'S VERDICT.

The Rebellion Bleeding to Death-A Half a Million More-The Results of the Election-Sherman's March to the Sea-The Last Great Battle in the West-Changes in the Cabinet-Grant on Executive Interference."

THE course of the civil war during the summer and early autumn of the year 1864, studded thickly as it was with bloody battles, may be described with fair exactness as a process of attrition. Both in the East and West, the opposing armies were grinding in almost continuous struggle.

The military results, viewed strictly as such, were in favor of the Union armies, and, all the while, the conquered districts put behind these in their advances were becoming more and more hopelessly lost forever to the Confederacy. One obvious fact needed no presentation in any army bulletin. The area from which the Rebel forces could draw recruits and supplies was steadily narrowing. Whenever their armies now in the field should be ground away and used up by the ceaseless campaigning forced upon them, no others like them could be obtained to take their places. The end of all drew nearer with every charge they made, successful or otherwise, upon the wall of steel and fire that was pitilessly closing in around them.

The resources of the North were not perceptibly diminished. A Rebel officer of Texas cavalry, captured and carried to one of the forts in New York harbor, was paroled late one evening and spent the night at the Astor House, on Broadway, in New York City. He came out upon the steps of the hotel, after breakfast, the next morning, and stood for an hour or so, watching the tide of men flow past him. At first he thought it a

"procession" or the result of some uncommon excitement; but when the truth dawned upon him that this was only the everyday rush of the great city, he sat down and wrote to his friends at the South:

"How they have lied to us! It is of no use. I give it up. There are more men in the North than there were before the war. Ours are all gone, and it's about time to stop."

Mr. Lincoln would gladly have seen the entire South arriving at so sensible a decision; but every faint sign of promise in any such direction proved instantly illusory. He was now contending with the wounded pride, rather than the sane hope or expectation, of a group of men in power at Richmond, whose indomitable obstinacy upheld them until the gallant men whom they forced to fight for them were uselessly crushed upon the last vain battle-fields of the civil war.

Fully understanding his antagonists, Mr. Lincoln prepared for the worst. On the 18th of July he called for five hundred thousand more men, the number not furnished by voluntary enlistments to be obtained by a draft, after September 5. Even his enemies were unable to describe so unpopular an act as an electioneering operation in behalf of his re election. His friends told him, plainly, that it might insure his defeat at the November polls.

Perhaps he had more correctly gauged the temper and understanding of the people. At all events, the summoned men came forward rapidly, a large and valuable percentage of them being veterans who had served their time under previous enlistments.

One after another, every device of the Opposition utterly broke down. Even before election-day it was evident that no danger of Democratic success remained. When the polls were closed and the votes were counted, it was found that the country contained 4,015,902 voters, the greater part of whom were possible fighters. Mr. Lincoln's enormous majority of 411,428 fairly buried the McClellan electoral tickets. Kentucky and Delaware, old slave-States, with New Jersey, feebly testified