for seventy
years molded the policy of the Government, and placed our own men,
or '_Northern men with Southern principles_,' in power.'

Cool--and in part true. They _did_ rule us in political vassalage, they
_did_ place their own men, or 'Northern men with Southern principles,'
in power, and there are scores of such abandoned traitors even now
crying out 'pro-slavery' and abusing Emancipation among us, in the hope
that if some turn of Fortune's wheel should separate the South, they may
again rise to power as its agents and representatives! GOD help them! It
is hard to conceive of men sunk so low! Nobody wants them now--but a
time _may_ come. They are in New-York--there is a peculiarly
contemptible clique of them in Boston, and the Philadelphia _Bulletin_
informs us that there is exactly such another precious party in the city
of Brotherly Love, who are 'in a very awkward position just now,
inasmuch as there is no market for them. They are in the position of
Johnson and Don Juan in the slave-market at Constantinople, and ready to
exclaim:

'I wish to G--d that some body would buy us!''

The first draft for the army was a death-blow to the slow-poison
democracy, and it has been frightened accordingly. Like a slug on whom
salt has just begun to fall, the crawling mass is indeed manifesting
symptoms of frightened activity--but it is the activity of death. For
the North is awake in real earnest; it is out with banner and bayonet;
there is to be no more playing at war or wasting of lives--the foe is to
be rooted out--_delanda est Dixie_. And in the hour of triumph where
will the pro-slavery traitors be then? Where? Where they always strive
to be--on the _winning_ side. They will 'back water' as they have done
on progressive measure which they once opposed, since the war begun;
they will eat their words and fawn and wheedle those in power until the
opportunity again occurs for building up on some sham principle a party
of rum and faro-banks, low demagogue-ism, ignorance, reaction, and
vulgarity. Then from his present toad-like swelling and whispering, we
shall hear the full-expanded fiend roar out into a real life. It is the
old story of history--the corrupt and venal arraigning itself against
truth and terming the latter 'visionary' and 'fanatical.'

* * * * *

Those who visit the sick soldiers and do good in the hospitals
occasionally get a gleam of fun among all the sad scen