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the Union, even by war: while the Government claimed no right to do more than restrict the territorial enlargement of it. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease with, or even before, the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamentai and astounding. Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God; and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men could dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces; but let us judge not, that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered—that of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes.

" Woe unto the world because of offenses! for it must be that offenses come; but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh." If we shall suppose that American slavery is one of those offenses which, having continued through His appointed time, He now wills to reinove, and that He gives to both North and South this terrible war, as the woe due to those by whom the offense came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a living God always ascribe to Him? Fondly do we hope—fervently do we pray—that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bond man's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid with another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said, “ The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.”

With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and orphan—to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves, and with all nations.


Fling the flags out, grand and glorious,

Red with blood of battles won,
Over rebel bands victorious,

Let them greet the rising sun.

On the land and on the ocean

Let the banners blossom out,
While the guns with grim devotion

Thunder Freedom's anthem-shout.

Gone the gloom of wrong and error,

Broken the oppressor's ban;
Gone is Slavery's reign of terror,

Freedom is the right of man.
Labor's mighty diapason

Fills the land from sea to sea;
On our banners we emblazon

Man forever more is free !

On the mountain, in the valley,

Raise aloft the stripes and stars;
Let the sons of labor rally.

Mightier in their strength than Mars !
Architect of every nation,

Labor is the only king,
Working out in lowly station

Nobler deeds than poets sing.


“THREE years! I wonder if she'll know me!

I limp a little, and I left one arm
At Petersburg; and I am grown as brown

As the plump chestnuts on my little farm;
And I'm as shaggy as the chestnut burs,
But ripe and sweet within, and wholly hers.

“The darling! how I long to see her!

My heart outruns this feeble soldier pace; But I remember, after I had left,

A little Charlie came to take my place; Ah! how the laughing three-year-old brown eyes (His mother's eyes) will stare with pleased surprise !

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“Sure, they'll be at the corner watching!

I sent them word that I should come to-night;
The birds all knew it, for they crowed around,

Twittering their welcome with a wild delight;
And that old robin, with a halting wing,
I saved her life three years ago last spring.

"Three years-perhaps I am but dreaming,

For, like the pilgrim of the long ago,
I've tugged a weary burden at my back,

Through summer's heat and winter's blinding snow,
Till now I reach my home, my darling's breast,
There I can roll my burden off—and rest.”


When morning came the early rising sun

Laid his light fingers on a soldier sleeping Where a soft covering of bright green grass

Over two lowly mounds was lightly creeping, But waked himn not; his was the rest eternal, Where the brown eyes reflected love supernal.


There is a cap in the closet,

Old, tattered, and blue-
Oi very slight value

It may be to you:
But a crown, jewel-studded,

Could not buy it to-day,
With its letters of honor,

Brave “Co. K."

The head that it sheltered

Needs shelter no more:
Dead heroes make holy

The trifles they wore •

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