ing honor those
who vindicated the insulted majesty of the Republic, and struck at her
assailants so long as a drum-beat summoned them to the field of duty.

Citizens of Boston, sons and daughters of New England, men and women of
the North, brothers and sisters in the bond of the American Union, you
have among you the scarred and wasted soldiers who have shed their blood
for your temporal salvation. They bore your nation's emblems bravely
through the fire and smoke of the battle-field; nay, their own bodies
are starred with bullet-wounds and striped with sabre-cuts, as if to
mark them as belonging to their country until their dust becomes a
portion of the soil which they defended. In every Northern graveyard
slumber the victims of this destroying struggle. Many whom you remember
playing as children amidst the clover-blossoms of our Northern fields,
sleep under nameless mounds with strange Southern wild-flowers blooming
over them. By those wounds of living heroes, by those graves of
fallen martyrs, by the hopes of your children, and the claims of your
children's children yet unborn, in the name of outraged honor, in the
interest of violated sovereignty, for the life of an imperilled nation,
for the sake of men everywhere and of our common humanity, for the glory
of God and the advancement of his kingdom on earth, your country calls
upon you to stand by her through good report and through evil report, in
triumph and in defeat, until she emerges from the great war of Western
civilization, Queen of the broad continent, Arbitress in the councils of
earth's emancipated peoples; until the flag that fell from the wall
of Fort Sumter floats again inviolate, supreme, over all her ancient
inheritance, every fortress, every capital, every ship, and this warring
land is once more a United Nation!

CINDERS FROM THE ASHES.

The personal revelations contained in my report of certain
breakfast-table conversations were so charitably listened to and
so good-naturedly interpreted, that I may be in danger of becoming
over-communicative. Still, I should never have ventured to tell the
trivial experiences here thrown together, were it not that my brief
story is illuminated here and there by a glimpse of some shining figure
that trod the same path with me for a time, or crossed it, leaving
a momentary or lasting brightness in its track. I remember that, in
furnishing a chamber some years ago, I was struck with its dull aspect
as I loo