unfit for the planting of the germ of freedom, and so
Providence guided the bark of Columbus to the shores of America. Here
the tree of liberty was planted under circumstances which encouraged its
growth and insured its life. Nowhere is the providence of God more
visible. Here was the virgin soil to be conquered. Here were forests to
be felled; a strong arm was of more use in cutting down a tree than the
lineage of a thousand years. The value of the settler was not the blood
which flowed in his veins, but the power of his muscles and the strength
of his will. Then the dignity of labor was raised to a pitch unknown to
this world. They did not come here to enrich themselves with gold. They
did not come here to plunder the soil and return to Spain to spend the
proceeds in riot. They were men in whose hearts liberty never died. They
sought this continent that they might create liberty, and they did it.
Their labor was fruitful.

FOOTNOTE:

[58] Auditorium, Chicago, April 30, 1894. By permission of the author.

A VISION OF WAR[59]

ROBERT G. INGERSOLL

The past rises before me like a dream. Again we are in the great
struggle for national life. We hear the sounds of preparation, the
music of boisterous drums, the silver voices of heroic bugles. We see
thousands of assemblages, and hear the appeals of orators. We see the
pale cheeks of women, and the flushed faces of men; and in those
assemblages we see all the dead whose dust we have covered with flowers.
We lose sight of them no more. We are with them when they enlist in the
great army of freedom. We see them part with those they love. Some are
walking for the last time in quiet, woody places, with the maidens they
adore. We hear the whisperings and the sweet vows of eternal love as
they lingeringly part forever. Others are bending over cradles, kissing
babes that are asleep. Some are receiving the blessings of old men. Some
are parting with mothers who hold them and press them to their hearts
again and again, and say nothing. Kisses and tears, tears and
kisses--divine mingling of agony and love! And some are talking with
wives, and endeavoring with brave words, spoken in the old tones, to
drive from their hearts the awful fear. We see them part. We see the
wife standing in the door with the babe in her arms--standing in the
sunlight sobbing. At the turn of the road a hand waves; she answers by
holding high in her loving arms the child. He is gone, and forever.