e, till the appearance of
their deliverer, they had never been permitted to enter,--the ride of
the President through the streets,--his visit to Libby Prison,--the
distribution of bread to the destitute,--the groups of heartbroken men
amid the ruins, who beheld nought but ruins,--a ruined city, a ruined
State, a ruined Confederacy, a ruined people,--ruined in hopes and
expectations,--ruined for the past, the present, and the
future,--without power, influence, or means of beginning life
anew,--deceived, subjugated, humiliated,--poverty-stricken in
everything. All that they had possessed was irretrievably lost, and they
had nothing to show for it. All their heroism, valor, courage, hardship,
suffering, expenditure of treasure, and sacrifice of blood had availed
them nothing. There could be no comfort in their mourning, no
alleviation to their sorrow.

Forgetting that Justice is the mightiest power of the universe, that
Righteousness is eternal, and that anything short of it is transitory,
they planned a gorgeous edifice with Slavery for its corner-stone; but
suddenly, and in an hour, their superstructure and foundation, crumbled.
They grasped at dominion, and sank in perdition.

FOOTNOTES:

[I] I write from memory, not pretending to give the exact words uttered
during the conversation.

DOWN!

(APRIL, 1965)

Yard-Arm to yard-arm we lie
Alongside the Ship of Hell;
And still, through the sulphury sky,
The terrible clang goes high,--
Broadside and battle-cry,
And the pirates' maddened yell!

Our Captain's cold on the deck;
Our brave Lieutenant's a wreck,--
He lies in the hold there, hearing
The storm of fight going on overhead,
Tramp and thunder to wake the dead,
The great guns jumping overhead,
And the whole ship's company cheering!

Four hours the Death-Fight has roared,
(Gun-deck and berth-deck blood-wet!)
Her mainmast's gone by the board,
Down come topsail and jib!
We're smashing her, rib by rib,
And the pirate yells grow weak,--
But the Black Flag flies there yet,
The Death's Head grinning apeak!

Long has she haunted the seas,
Terror of sun and breeze;
Her deck has echoed with groans;
Her hold is a horrid den,
Piled to the orlop with bones
Of starved and of murdered men!
They swarm 'mid her shrouds in hosts,
The smoke is murky with ghosts!

But to-da