took our way to the camp-ground. Avoiding the usual route, we
walked on through the forest. It was mid-winter, and vegetation lay dead
all around us, awaiting the time when spring should breathe into it the
breath of life and make it a living thing. There was silence and rest in
the deep wood. The birds were away on their winter wanderings; the
leaves hung motionless on the tall trees, and nature seemed resting from
her ceaseless labor, and listening to the soft music of the little
stream which sung a cheerful song as it rambled on over the roots and
fallen branches that blocked its way. But soon a distant murmur arose,
and we had not proceeded far before as many sounds as were heard at
Babel made a strange concert about our ears. The lowing of the ox, the
neighing of the horse, and the deep braying of another animal, mingled
with a thousand human voices, came through the woods. But above and over
all rose the stentorian tones of the stump speaker,

'As he trod the shaky platform,
With the sweat upon his brow.'

About a thousand persons were already assembled on the ground, and a
more motley gathering I never beheld. All sorts of costumes and all
classes of people were there; but the genuine back-woods corn-crackers
composed the majority of the assemblage. As might be expected, much the
larger portion of the audience were men; still I saw some women and not
a few children, many of the country people having taken advantage of the
occasion to give their families a holiday. Some occupied benches in
front of the stand, though a larger number were seated around in groups,
within hearing of the speaker, but paying very little attention to what
he was saying. A few were whittling, a few pitching quoits, or playing
leap-frog, and quite a number were having a quiet game of whist, euchre,
or 'seven-up.'

The speaker was a well-dressed, gentlemanly-looking man, and a tolerably
good orator. He seemed accustomed to addressing a jury, for he displayed
all the adroitness in handling his subject, and in appealing to the
prejudices of his hearers, that we see in successful special pleaders.
But he overshot his mark. To nine out of ten of his audience, his words
and similes, though correct and sometimes beautiful, were as
unintelligible as the dead languages. He advocated immediate,
unconditional secession; and I thought from the applause which met his
remarks, whenever he seemed to make himself understood, that the large
maj