"The President announces to the country that news from the Army of the Potomac, up to 10 P. M. of the 3d, is such as to cover that army with the highest honor; to promise a great success to the cause of the Union, and to claim the condolence

of all for the many gallant fallen; and that for this he especially desires that on this day, He, whose will, not ours, should ever be done, be everywhere remembered and reverenced with profoundest gratitude."

is to kindle sympathy, even if it does not flash conviction. It is this quality, according to the opinion of those who are best acquainted with Mr. Beecher's oratory, which, combined with his marvelous power of illustration-marvelous alike for its intense vividness and unerring pertinency -and his great flexibility, whereby he adapts himself completely to the exigency of the instant, gives him a rare command over a popular assemblage.

Free Trade Hall was the place selected for Mr. Beecher's appearance in Manchester. Though capable of holding seven thousand persons, the hall was densely crowded, and the speaker received a welcome such as, in point of enthusiasm, had rarely fell to the lot of any other man. On this occasion, he gave a history of that series of political movements, extending through half a century, the logical and inevitable end of which was open conflict between the two opposing forces of freedom and slavery. There were in the meeting a few hundred opponents who frequently interrupted Mr. Beecher, but these checks only served to show how powerless was the opposition, and how forcible was the impression made by the speaker. His pointed remarks were frequently greeted with rounds of applause, and when, at the close of his address, he read a telegram just received from Liverpool, that the "broad arrow "of the British government had that day been placed upon the suspected steam-rams in the Mersey, the enthusiasm reached its climax. The whole audience rose, vociferously cheering, and waving hats and handkerchiefs.

Not to dwell upon the scenes character izing Mr. Beecher's efforts in Glasgow and Edinburgh, it may be remarked that, in Liverpool, he waged such a battle with the vast and tumultuous throng assembled there to gag and stifle him, as, perhaps, no other public speaker in the world could. have fought, in a strange land, and not been utterly vanquished. He here, in this great center of commercial and manufacturing interests, labored to show how show how those interests are injured by slavery,

that the attempt to cover the fairest portion of the earth with a slave population that buys nothing, and a degraded white population that buys next to nothing, should array against it the sympathy of every true political economist and every thoughtful and far-seeing manufacturer, as tending to strike at the vital want of commerce, namely, not the want of cotton, but the want of customers. Amidst the most violent attempts to drown his voice and shut his lips, Mr. Beecher remained master of the platform, abundantly proving to the mob the truth of his assertion, "I am born without moral fear. I have expressed my views in any audience, and it never cost me a struggle. I never could help doing it." So, too, in answer to the taunts and sarcasm of those who wished ill to the Union and looked with satisfaction upon the evidences of its approaching dismemberment, came the declaration:

"Standing by my cradle, standing by my hearth, standing by the altar of the church, standing by all the places that mark the name and memory of heroic men who poured their blood and lives for principle, I declare that in ten or twenty years of war we will sacrifice everything we have for principle. If the love of popular liberty is dead in Great Britain, you will not understand us; but if the love of liberty lives as it once lived, and has worthy successors of those renowned men that were our ancestors as much as yours, and whose example and principles we inherit to make fruitful as so much seedcorn in a new and fertile land, then you will understand our firm, invincible determination-deep as the sea, firm as the mountains, but calm as the heavens above us-to fight this war through at all hazards and at every cost.

Throughout all the tumultuous demonstrations on the part of his Liverpool audience, his pluck and good humor never for a moment forsook him. His perfect self-possession, his readiness, his jovial wit, gave him the mastery in the fearful odds against which he had to battle.

(Some gentleman on the platform here offered Mr. Beecher a glass of water.) No, thank you (said Mr. Beecher); I want neither water nor lozenges. [Laughter.] Time, patience, and my own good lungs, will make me heard. I expect to be hoarse; I am willing to be hoarse. I think that if I might but bring the mother and the daughter heart to heart and hand to hand [loud applause], I would be willing to be silent for a twelvemonth in so good a work as that. [Cheers.] The war began under circumstances that obliged the North to join issue in order to prevent actual humiliation and subjugation. .

And for the North to have lain down like a spaniel-to have given up the territory that every child in America is taught, as every child in Britain is taught, to regard as his sacred right and his trustto have given that territory up without a thought, without a blow, would have marked the North to all eternity as craven and mean beyond expression." [Loud cheers and some hisses.]

Equally forcible and felicitous was the manner in which Mr. Beecher met his opponents on another point. "But I hear," said Mr. Beecher, "a loud protest against war. [Hear, hear.] Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Chairman: There is a small band in our country and in yours-I wish their number were quadrupled-who have borne a solemn and painful testimony against all wars, under all circumstances; and although I differ with them on the subject of defensive warfare, yet when men that rebuked their own land, and all lands, now rebuke us, though I cannot accept their judgment, I bow with profound respect to their consistency. [Hear, hear, and cheers.] But excepting them, I regard this British horror of the Ameriwar as something wonderful. [Renewed cheers and laughter.] Why, it is a phenomenon in itself! On what shore has not the prow of your ships dashed? [Hear, hear.] What land is there with a name and a people where your banner has not led your soldiers? [Hear, hear.] And when the great resurrection

can

reveille shall sound, it will muster British soldiers from every clime and people under the whole heaven. [Cheers.] Ah, but it is said this is a war against your own. blood. [Hear, hear.] How long is it since you poured soldiers into Canada, and let all your yards work night and day to avenge the taking of two men out of the Trent? [Loud applause.] Old England shocked at a war of principle! She gained her glories in such a war. [Cheers.] Old England ashamed of a war of principle! Her national ensign symbolizes her history the cross in a field of blood. [Cheers.] And will you tell us— who inherit your blood, your ideas, and your pluck [cheers]-that we must not fight?" [Cheers.]

Exeter Hall, London, was the scene of Mr. Beecher's last and, perhaps, greatest oratorical effort, in defense of the American Union the undivided nationality of the American Republic. This speech was delivered under the auspices of the Emancipation Society, October 20th, and the meeting was one of the most enthusiastic ever held in the English metropolis. The admission was by tickets, the lowest charge for which was one shilling, and for the reserved seats, of which there were four hundred, the charge was two shillings and sixpence. More than an hour before the time for the proceedings to commence, the main entrance in the Strand was besieged by crowds of persons anxious to obtain egress, and, soon after the doors were opened, the vast hall was filled to suffocation, and thousands were outside seeking but unable to obtain admission.

Outside, the scene was of a most extraordinary description. The speech, as advertised, was to begin at seven o'clock, and it was announced that the doors would be opened at half-past six. The crowd, however, began to assemble as early as five o'clock, and, before six, it became so dense and numerous, as completely to block up not only the footway but the carriage-way of the Strand, and the committee of management determined, therefore, to throw open the doors at once. The rush that