t
faction die; political intrigue cease to rear its serpent head; let
doubt become trust; suspicion, faith! Countrymen, let us also learn to
pity the unhappy race whom this war must free. You cannot now prevent
it; its first tocsin of liberty pealed with the first gun fired at Fort
Sumter. After long ages of barbaric night, of slavery, of misery, these
beings cut in ebony begin to robe themselves as men; on the battle field
they have at last put on the virile toga dyed in blood, not now drawn by
the lash from the back of the wretched chattel, but from the heart of
the man face to face with his oppressor on the field of righteous
battle. Rude and uncultured, they hold up to you hands hard with labor,
still bleeding from the scarcely fallen manacles, and implore aid and
manly mercy. Let it be granted without stint, and let not the freedom
God has given, become a curse to them! You cannot roll back the stately
steppings of destiny--and let this great and magnanimous people show its
magnanimity now!

And, oh, ye glorious dead, now resting in eternal peace, whom the drum
and fife will rouse no more to superhuman effort in our behalf, sweet be
your sleep in the heart of the country you died to save, and ever green
the laurel above your grassy graves! We will not forget you, wrapped in
your gory shrouds for the land ye loved! Never shall our national hymns
again greet our ears without awakening tender thoughts of you! Hot, sad
tears will mourn your loss in the homes your smiles shall light no
more--but your names shall be an heirloom of glory to your mothers,
wives, and children, and your country will weep with them! We greet you,
holy graves! As the onward path of humanity passes over your new-made
mounds, her children will veil their heads and honor the martyrs who lie
below. And when the coming centuries shall have covered you with moss
and flowers, they will never forget to throw the laurel as they pass,
acknowledging that these tombs have made progress and happiness
possible! Brothers, the Union shall be sacred which you died to save! In
the more intense and glowing patriotism engendered by your sacrifice, we
swear it on your blessed sepulchres, and this shall be your deathless
epitaph!

M. W. C.

THE

_Continental Monthly._

The readers of the CONTINENTAL are aware of the important position it
has assumed, of the influence which it exerts, and of the brilliant
array of political and literary talent of