Chapter III: Front Matter (3)

Van Brick was in extremis. Taking a gold scudo, one of those dear little one-dollar pieces the Romans call _far-fálle_ (butterflies) from his pocket, he thus addressed her:

'Maiden, rush round the corner and buy me a yard of any thing that will dry me; I don't care what it is, except salt fish.'

'Oh! but these English are bursting with money,' thought the girl, and thus thinking, she made great haste, only stopping to tell three or four friends about the crazy man that was round at her place, who didn't want salt fish to make him dry.

'Behold me back again!' said the girl, 'I flew.'

'Yes,' said Van Brick, 'and so did time; and he got ahead of you about half an hour. Give me the towels.'

'Si, signore, behold them! See how fine they are! What an elegant fringe on them; and only twenty-five baiocchi a piece, fringe and all included.'

Van Brick, at last left in peace, plunged into the bath.

When he came out, he found he had half a scudo to pay for the water, half a scudo for towels, quarter of a scudo for soap, and another quarter scudo for a _buono mano_ to the bath-girl. Total, one dollar and a half.

'Now,' soliloquized Van Brick, as he dressed himself, 'I have an arithmetical question to solve. If a Roman, by hard scratching, can earn twenty cents a day, and it costs him twenty-five cents for board and lodging, how long will it be before he saves up a dollar and a half to take a bath? But that intelligent maiden will tell me, I know.' He asked her.

'Signore, the Romans never bathe.'

'You mean the Catholic Romans, for the Pagan Romans didn't do any thing else.'

'They're all burning up in the _inferno, Seguro_!' said the maiden.

'But they had fifteen aqueducts to keep them cool when they were alive,' spoke Van Brick.

'_Chi lo sa_. We have three aqueducts, we Romans, and we have more water, yes, more water than we can--drink.'

'Yes, while there's wine about. _Adio, bella ninfa!_'

GLANCES FROM THE SENATE-GALLERY.

II.

We considered, in the last number of THE CONTINENTAL, some of the leading orators and statesmen who, in the last Congress, represented the States now in rebellion against the Constitution. It can not be denied that, by their secession from the floor of the Senate, that body, which undoubtedly exhibits the best specimens of American eloquence, was deprived of several of its fairest ornaments; but we believe that a consideration of those Senators who remained faithful to the interests of their country, will discover the fact that in them was displayed at least equally conspicuous merit in oratory and legislation. A distinct contrast was discernible between Northern and Southern eloquence; the latter being of an impulsive and passionate character, unadorned generally by the graces which mental culture lends to that art, (which might be inferred from their well-known temperament,) while the former appears to be more deliberate and thoughtful, indicating by its elegance and harmony the refining and systematizing influence of education, and partaking of the natural phlegm peculiar to inhabitants in colder regions. While Southern eloquence seemed to endeavor to elicit feeling and passion, Northern orators looked for their success rather to the conviction of the understanding than to the indulgence of the weaker elements of human nature. By pleasing and subtle sophistries, by enthusiastic ebullitions of resentment and indignation, or by the more amiable contrivances of patriotic and virtuous sentiment, Benjamin and Davis sought, if they could not convince legislators, at least to attract to their peculiar doctrines the impulsive and credulous masses among their own people. On the contrary, it was apparent that Northern statesmen, confident in the exercise of intellectual resources, relied on the intelligence and reason of their auditors and constituents, and seldom resorted to that species of oratory which was employed by their adversaries, and which may be called in a manner strategetic, when logical accuracy was likely to meet with more satisfactory and more permanent success. Before we proceed to notice the eminent Senators from the North, we propose to dwell briefly upon several who, though representing slave States, were, in the last Congress at least, loyal to the Government; several of whom, however, are now engaged in treason, while others remain true to their allegiance.

The person who, both from the position he held in the Senate and from his imposing personal appearance, first attracted the attention of the visitor, was the Vice-President, Breckinridge, of Kentucky. His later treachery has made him justly the object of bitter popular odium, inasmuch as his delinquency was aggravated by his former professions of loyalty. It was hoped by many who had witnessed his early elevation to the highest dignities, his undoubted ability both as an orator and as an administrative officer, and his apparently manly and ingenuous bearing, that talents which promised to be of so great service to his country would, in the approaching struggle, be exerted in behalf of its entirety and honor. Southern 'chivalry' in him was exhibited in a nobler and more amiable light than in his more petulant and less generous colleagues. A certain graceful dignity was united with the most attractive felicity of manner, and one could not help regarding him, when viewed in private society, as a perfect model of a gentleman. His courtesy and delicacy were exhibited to all alike, and strangers could not help admiring one who had at so early an age been raised to so giddy a hight, and yet who had retained such condescension of manner and such continual good-nature to every body who approached him. His personal appearance, as we have already said, was highly imposing; in which was combined a manliness of demeanor and a strikingly handsome countenance and figure. His peculiar fitness as a presiding officer made him popular in that capacity. Seldom, indeed, has a Vice-President occupied the chair with such perfect ease and such stately dignity. His oratory was worthy of a Senator, elevated, earnest, and partaking less of passion and rancor than other Southern speakers; but it rather lacked the substance and solidity which a maturer stage of life would undoubtedly have given to it. He seemed to be a fair representative of the Kentucky aristocracy, possessing a delicate sense of honor, a bold spirit, though hardly enthusiasm of soul. Evidently absorbed in a selfish ambition for power, this fault is in some degree palliated by the circumstance of the early age at which he was promoted to the public counsels. That this passion, unduly encouraged, has led him into a deplorable and fatal mistake, is now evident; and from what we have recently heard of him, we doubt not that a similar conviction has made him wretched and desperate.

The father of the Senate, Mr. Crittenden, so well known during the last weeks of his term as the would-be pacificator, by compromise, of the impending rupture, was the last of the generation of statesmen of whom Webster and Clay were the leading cotemporaries. His long service in the national legislature procured him on all occasions a respectful and attentive hearing, and were it not for this circumstance, the earnest impressiveness of his declamation, at times relieved by sparks of old-fashioned wit, would have attracted the notice of his auditors. He was singular in his personal appearance, and a peculiarly fierce expression of face frequently gave an erroneous idea of his character, which was, making allowance for age and a life of turmoil, affable and good-natured. He always reminded us of the portraits of Lord Chancellor Thurlow, whose bushy eyebrows and stern countenance used to terrify young barristers in Westminster eighty years ago. Rather negligent in his dress, and far from elegant in manner, he would hardly be noticed at first as one of the leading members of the body. As a lawyer, he has been acute and learned; as a statesman, generally able, though hardly profound; as an orator, not graceful, but forcible and earnest. His patriotism was, no doubt, zealous and entirely disinterested; but certainly ill-directed, and not adapted in the application it made of principles to the exigencies of the times. Representing the most respected and most prosperous of slave States, and being considered in a manner as the statesman upon whose shoulders had fallen the mantle of the illustrious Clay, his influence was considerable, both with adherents and antagonists.

With sincere satisfaction, we turn to contemplate the character of a true-hearted and undaunted Southern patriot, Andrew Johnson, of Tennessee. Coming as he did from a section in which secessionism predominates, and representing a mercurial and sensitive people, he stood out fearlessly and zealously in behalf of the maintenance of the Union at all hazards. He is an admirable example of the self-made man, having received no education in his youth, and owing to the application of maturer years the historical and political information he now possesses. Born and bred among the lower classes of society, and engaging in an occupation suited to his humble sphere, by perseverance and patience and a very superior natural ability, he has won a deserved place in the United States Senate. He is universally considered as one of the leading intellects in that body, and by his speeches during the last Congress, in which his enthusiasm as a patriot lent brilliancy and energy to his naturally forcible declamation, he attracted to himself the confidence and affection both of his auditors and of the country. His personal appearance is rather ordinary, not at all imposing, and yet his countenance indicates a sound judgment and a pure heart. His whole manner is open and frank, his bearing that of a gentleman by nature, and socially he is universally liked. His oratory is also of an ingenuous character, calculated to impress one at once with his thorough honesty and humanity. Sometimes he rose to admirable passages of virtuous indignation and scathing rebuke, as he warmed with the subject of Southern delusion, actuated by unprincipled leaders, and few of the Senators who sat on the Democratic side escaped from his truly formidable denunciation. Lane, of Oregon, a compound of conceit, ridiculous ignorance, and servility to Southern masters, was totally annihilated by the sturdy Tennesseean, for his imbecile attempts to excuse his pusillanimous submission to his chivalrous dictators. So successful was he in conjecturing and exposing the designs of the malcontent Senators, that the boldest of them feared to meet him in forensic discussion, and recoiled from the honesty and acuteness of one who knew them and did not hesitate to hold them up to ignominy. Through all the dangers which have beset the neighborhood from which he came, he has stood firm in the assertion of patriotic principles; nor to save his own household from disaster, has he yielded a jot to the demands of traitor tyrants. At present, he is provisional Governor of Tennessee, and is doing good service in bringing that once-honored State back to the folds of the Union. Of few public men can we say, what may be confidently said of him, that he has shown himself ready to sacrifice every private interest to subserve the interests of his country, and has given us a certain and practical example of a heroism unknown before the present crisis to Americans, except in the colored narratives of history.

Senator Green, of Missouri, was justly regarded as one of the clearest thinkers and speakers in the Upper House. Irregularity of life had somewhat blunted what must once have been a very superior mind. His statesmanship was of a high order; his oratory ingenuous, generally courteous and conciliatory, and always entertaining, from its lucidness and keenness. He was decidedly popular in social circles, genial and good-natured, and full of animal spirits. His excesses, indeed, rather tended to make him the more companionable, though they undoubtedly undermined an uncommonly fine intellect; and certainly nothing can be more sickening than to see one so highly endowed, and who might command the applause of listening senates, gradually sinking below the level of manhood by habitual indulgences. In personal appearance, he was rather awkward, of an ungainly figure, his countenance not highly intelligent, but cheerful and rather pleasing. After the ostracism of the great bulwark of Democracy, Douglas, from the councils of his party, Senator Green became the leader of that side of the house, assuming the place on the Committee on Territories made vacant by the Illinois statesman. As a manager of party tactics, and as a bold, shrewd, and energetic leader, few could equal and none surpass him. His rise to so high a consideration among his political friends was rapid, but proved, in the event, well deserved.

We have occupied more space than we had intended, in considering the Senators from the slave States, and will now attempt to speak of some of the more prominent Northern statesmen, in this paper, and perhaps continue their consideration more at length in a future number.

The present Secretary of State was long regarded as the leading Free-Soil Senator, and after the present Republican party came into existence, he naturally assumed a prominent position among its advocates. In caution, in profound foresight, in coolness and affability of temper, and in perspicuity and logical shrewdness of oratory, he has been without a superior since the death of Webster. He somewhat resembles Earl Russell in the prudence and care with which he treats political questions, and the vigilance with which he notices every symptom of popular tendencies and popular desires. His circumspection is constant, and the imperturbability of his character enables him to be ever on his guard, and protects him from the enunciation of an unpopular idea. Never permitting himself to be annoyed at ever so bitter a taunt, perfectly self-possessed, and always mindful of the courtesy due to his colleagues, and the respect due to the most dignified body in the nation, he has generally succeeded in completely disarming his less prudent antagonists. In general debate, his coolness and mental balance enabled him to cope with the most formidable opponents, and although at times the overwhelming eloquence of Douglas got the better of the more philosophic orator, such an occurrence was rare, and a triumph was gained over him only by the greatest exertions of the greatest orators. His labored speeches, as will be testified to by all who have perused them, are rich in profound thought, a clear discernment and comprehension of events, causes, and results, and occasionally in passages of stately and brilliant eloquence. Graceful rhetoric and shrewd logic appear to be ever at his command, as he has occasion, in the course of argument, to resort to one or the other, to illustrate or to enforce his reasoning. In person, Mr. Seward is of about medium hight, rather stooping, with reddish-gray hair, an aquiline nose, and dull, sleepy, blue eyes. His countenance is hardly intellectual, and no one would suppose, on seeing him for the first time, that he was a man of conspicuous ability. He is affable to every one, and enters freely into conversation with all who call upon him; nevertheless, he is extremely guarded at all times in expressing his opinions, and will never betray himself into an unguarded sentiment. His manner of speaking is extremely easy, and occasionally dull; and when in the Senate, he used to take his position by leaning against the pillar behind his seat, twirling in one hand his spectacles, while with the other he enforced, by slight gestures, the more striking passages of his speech. His delivery was far from animated, and his intonation was rather conversational than declamatory. He has a quiet dignity at all times, which is yet consistent with a polite and amiable demeanor; and while the former inspires the respect, the latter elicits the esteem of all who approach him.

The present Vice-President was, during the last Congress, Senator from Maine. He was long known as an able Democratic politician, and in 1856 was elected Governor of Maine by the Republicans, in a hotly-contested election. He is remarkable rather for a sound judgment and practical good sense than as an orator or in the higher arts of statesmanship. He was always listened to with attention, because all looked upon him as well informed in the everyday duties of the Senate, and as one whose opinion was formed from accurate observation and a clear head. He is in no sense an orator, his delivery not being pleasant or his sentiments couched in graceful or forcible language. He is of a dark complexion, rather tall, with jet-black hair, a little bald, and would not be selected as one of the leading men in the Senate from his personal appearance. As a presiding officer, he ranks well, being apparently posted on parliamentary law and impartial in his decisions, although he has not the dignity and grace which lent _éclat_ to Mr. Breckinridge's performance of the office.

Senator Fessenden, of Maine, is considered one of the first statesmen now prominent before the country; and the ability he has exhibited, not only in the practical details of his position but in the wider range of comprehensive statesmanship, entitles him to a place superior to most and equal to any of his contemporaries. Since the retirement of Senator Hunter from the Finance Committee, (which may be considered as the most important in the Senate,) Mr. Fessenden has executed the duties of its chairmanship with an accuracy and vigilance which has elicited the praise of all sides of the house. His superiority as a financier is marked; but not more marked than his high capacity for comprehending and elucidating the great national issues, which swallow up all minor ones in the magnitude of their importance and the intensity of their interest. For maturity of judgment, deliberateness of thought and manner, fearlessness of speech, a presence of mind never lost, and bitterness of invective, no one ranks above him in the Chamber. His oratory is of that substantial and yet spirited character which at once convinces and interests and engages the attention of the mind, without wearying it by unrelieved exertion. Always the master of every topic on which he attempts to enlighten, he is neither foiled by the sophistries nor embarrassed by the bravadoes of his opponents. His eloquence is not demonstrative, but calm, dignified, and earnest, apparently confident in the correctness of his views, and yet cautious to avoid giving offense to others. He is always listened to with the utmost respect, and his opinions are of much weight among his political friends. His appearance is dignified and highly intellectual; his forehead being broad and indicative of great ability, and his general manner being in harmony with the prominence and responsibility of his office. Never resorting, in default of argument, to the petty malice of personal abuse, his course has been liberal, consistent, and uniformly courteous. In private life, he retains the dignity which appears to be natural to him; but is yet affable and sociable, attracting one alike by the rich products of thought and the courtesy of his manner.

Benjamin F. Wade, Senator from Ohio, is a noble specimen of a self-made statesman. He migrated, at a very early age, from New-England to his present residence, being entirely without means and devoid of every thing except his own invincible spirit, with which to secure a livelihood. The qualities which made him successful sooner than his most sanguine expectations taught him to hope for, appear in all their maturity in the character of the Senator. A perseverance the most constant, a firmness approaching to stubbornness, a courage which never feared man, and a power of application wonderful in a mind disciplined only by rude nature, are the component elements which have promoted him to and maintain him with conspicuous honor in the Senate of the United States. His honest and intrepid advocacy of principle has won him an enviable position in his party, and no one possesses the entire confidence of the country to a greater degree than he. He was particularly prominent in the last Congress for the bluntness and severity with which he handled the Southern Senators, and the little hesitation with which he exposed their delinquencies in the strongest light. His harangues were full of impulsive, strong, and fearless invective, and he never stopped to consider the delicacy of chivalrous sensitiveness, when treason and conspiracy were to be exposed. Probably no man was more feared by the other side of the Chamber, for he could neither be cowed by threats nor restrained within the limits of punctilious courtesy. He dealt with them in the plainest language, and combined with powerful effect argument, sarcasm, and eloquent denunciation. Strong sense is a leading feature of his character, and a practical wisdom which renders him eminently capable in the discharge of details. In private life, he is genial and always good-natured, ready for a joke at all times, and enjoys his leisure hours with a zest which is quickened by previous earnest toil. Although as bitter and unconciliatory as any of his colleagues in his treatment of the Southern statesmen on the floor of the Senate, he always manifested the utmost good temper toward them in social intercourse, and was frequently seen, after a sharp and irritating episode in debate, laughing and talking with Green or Benjamin in the most cheerful manner imaginable.

We hope to present more sketches of Northern Senators in a future number.

THE LAST DITCH.

Where in the Southron's Fatherland
Is that last ditch--his final stand?
Is't where the James goes rolling by
Used-up plantations worn and dry,
Where planters lash and negroes breed,
And folks on oyster memories feed?
Oh! no, oh! no, oh! no, no, no!
To find it you must further go.

Where in the Southron's Fatherland
Is that 'last ditch,' his final stand?
Is't where the Mississippi runs
His mighty course for many suns,
To where New-Orleans fills the flat?
[Ben Butler's taken charge of _that_]
'Tis ours--to the Gulf of Mexico,
So that can't be the ditch, you know.

Where in the Southron's Fatherland
_Is_ that last ditch--his final stand?
Is it about Fort Donelson,
Where Floyd 'skedaddled,' _minus_ gun,
Packed up his traps and stole away
By night--as he had done by day?
Oh! no, oh! no, oh! no, no, no!
To find it you must further go.

Where in the Southron's Fatherland
Is that last ditch--his final stand?
Is it at Nashville, Tennessee,
Once more a city of the free,
Where Isham Harris and his tools
Thieved just two millions from the schools?
Oh! no, oh! no, oh! no, no, no!
To find it you must further go.

Where in the Southron's Fatherland
Is that last ditch--his final stand?
Is't at Montgomery, where in May
Hell's blackest tricks were put in play,
Where right and might were overruled,
And people into treason fooled?
Oh! no, oh! no, oh! no, no, no!
To find it you must further go.

Where in the Southron's fatherland
Is that last ditch--his final stand?
Is it at Charleston? Time shall prove
How much that precious nest we love,
When, crushed to dust and damned to shame,
We give the place another name.
Yet 'tis not there, I tell you, no!
Much further off its waters flow.

Where in the Southron's Fatherland
Is that last ditch--his final stand?
Is it at Natchez, high or low,
Or Newbern, where the pine-trees grow?
Is it where ladies 'dip' and snuff,
And white men feed on dirt enough?
Not there, not there; far down below
And further off its waters flow.

Where in the Southron's Fatherland
Is that last ditch--his final stand?
Knowest thou a stream folks call the Styx,
Round a plantation of Old Nick's,
In which, as Beauregard once swore,
His horse should drink when all is o'er?
There, there, my Southern friend, you'll find
A ditch exactly to your mind.

Ay, there in truth. God! can it be
That falsehood, sin and tyranny,
Though eighteen hundred years be past,
Still roar and revel wild and fast?
Well, let them rave; thou knowest the way--
'Tis darkest ere the dawn of day,
And well we know, whate'er befall,
Where runs the ditch to hide them all!

PATIENCE.

Patience! why,'tis the soul of peace;
Of all the virtues, the nearest kin to heaven.
It makes men act like gods. The Best of Men
That e'er wore earth about him was a Sufferer,
A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit,
The first true Gentleman that ever breathed.

REWARDING THE ARMY.

It is a brave thing that we can truly say, after more than a year of fierce hostilities, the war in which this country is engaged goes on with undiminished--nay, with increasing Northern spirit. The enemy has been obliged to resort to forced conscription, and to declare every man within its limits a soldier, while we have not as yet had recourse to drafting; nor, as the late sudden call showed, nearly exhausted our volunteers. A thousand, and even fifteen hundred dollars have been offered in Virginia newspapers for a substitute, and yet behind this there has followed an Executive order for enrolling every man in the army whether he have purchased a substitute or not. 'Our flag floats over Nashville and Natchez, over Memphis and New-Orleans, over Norfolk and Pensacola, over Yorktown and Newbern.' We have girded them in on the Mississippi, on the Atlantic, and on the Gulf. We know that they are destitute of almost every thing save mere food and arms, and that every month sinks them deeper and deeper in destitution and misery. The war is on their own soil, and their own armies are a scourge and a curse to their own estates. Every where the plantation and the farm are made desolate--every where the direst distress is taking the place of comfort. And all this they brought on themselves by the most determined will. They believed that Northern men were all cowards and half-traitors--their allies and friends among us promised them easy victories and certain independence--they thought that the greed of money was stronger among us than the sense of dignity and honor--and now they are reaping their reward.

Yet despite the bitter need into which they have brought themselves, it does not seem that those of the South who are in earnest have lost any of their desperation, or gained a better opinion of their foes. Their journals still trumpet the loudest lies and the mass still believe that sooner or later their shattered bark will outride the battle and the storm, and float safely into the broad sea of independence. Would that they could see the North as it is, in all its comparative prosperity, with millions still left to volunteer, and with thousands of foreigners eagerly seeking for places in the fray. We have found it necessary to instruct our ministers and consuls abroad that we can not accept for the present any more of the many military officers of different nations who desire to fight for the stars and stripes. We have money in abundance, and there is no flinching at taxation--indeed, the great source of apprehension at present is an excess of 'flush times' such as is too apt to bring on a reaction. When the war broke out we had, indeed, divided counsels. The old Southern Democrats whined and yelped, and attempted 'peace-parties' and the like; but they have vanished, and traitors now confine themselves to less offensive measures, while their ranks have been woefully thinned. We may have disasters; nay, we can hardly hope to escape them. But in the present state of the war we may fairly boast of having the upper-hand. And the Northern tenacity which did not yield when misfortune lowered around, will not be likely to loose its hold now that it has learned to measure its might, man for man, with the arrogant enemy.

Under the wise and judicious policy inaugurated by President Lincoln, we see Slavery, the great cause of this trouble, in a fair way to disappear in a manner which can give offence to no one. His 'remuneration message'--the shrewdest document which ever emanated from an American Executive--shows itself, as events proceed, to be a master-stroke of genius. The longer the cotton States prolong their resistance, the more precarious does slave property become, and the more inclined are the men of the tobacco States to sell their human chattels. Already in Kentucky, Tennessee, Maryland, and Delaware, people are longing to 'realize' something on what bids fair to become altogether intangible amid the turns and tides of skirmishes and battles. Meanwhile with every day's delay Emancipation, as a predetermined necessity, gains ground among the people, and very rapidly indeed in the army. It was the lowest and most tyrannical form of an aristocracy--that of slaveholding planterdom--which caused and is still causing all this trouble, and it is beginning to work its way into the minds of the multitude that it is hardly worth while to risk every thing, and see the real criminals reïnstated after all in their privileges and possessions, when the one can only serve to continue the old sore, while the other might be better employed in free labor. And better employed, we may add, in rewarding those noble men whose lives were risked in defense of our liberties.

This consideration brings us to the very important question: How shall we reward our army, and what should be its future mission in the reconstruction which every freeman will be called to aid?

There is no use in disguising facts, shirking inevitable issues, or trying to cheat either destiny or honest labor. We have got this question of rewarding our soldiers with the property of rebels, before us, and must meet it squarely. The pro-slavery Democratic press may oppose it, as they have been doing, with all the malignity which their treasonable friendship for the South may inspire; but we have an inevitable road before us over which we _must_ travel, and it would be well to consider it betimes, that we may tread it fairly and smoothly, and not be dragged along shrieking, by a pitiless destiny.

There are two good reasons why we should begin to consider betimes, the expediency of rewarding our army with Southern lands. The one is the necessity of a future Northern policy; the other the claim of the army to such reward.

If when this war is concluded, our Government is to have a policy or a principle, it should manifestly be that of reïnstating itself in power, in consolidating that power, and in acting as a powerful unity, according to the letter and the spirit of the Constitution. The CONSTITUTION--bear that word well in mind--the Constitution which suffers no State to usurp a single power belonging to the General Government, and which was expressly framed for the purpose of making all its freemen the citizens of one great nation. Let the reader consult the Constitution, study its unmistakable plan of national integrity and of state subordination, and then reflect whether, according to its spirit, any and every mere state privilege which may be claimed should not yield to the paramount claim of _the Union_?

If this war has demonstrated any thing, it has been, firstly, the fact that the South SHALL stay in the Union, and secondly, the folly of permitting the old Southern system to control us in politics, in social life, and in every thing. We have had enough of it. Manufactures, free labor, science, schools, the press, learning, new ideas, social reforms, the whole _progress_ of the age, inspiring twenty millions, can no longer be cuffed and scouted in the Senate and snubbed in the _salon_ or public meeting by the private interests of half a million of the most illiberal and ignorant conservatives in existence. Henceforth the North must _rule_. 'Must' is a hard nut, but Southern teeth must crack it, whether they will or no. We may shuffle and quibble, but to this it must come. Every day of the war renders it more certain. The farm must encroach on the plantation, the rural nobility give place to the higher nobility of intelligence; social culture based on mudsills must make way for the mudsills themselves--for lo! the sills which they buried are not dead timber, neither do they sleep or rot--they were fresh saplings, and with the reviving breath of spring and at the gleam of the sun of freedom, they will shoot up into brave, strong life.

Let them talk, dispute, hem and haw, that will--we can not set aside the great fact that in future our Government will be united in its policy, great in its strength, and no longer impeded by the selfish arrogance of a petty planterdom. Labor and capital are bursting their bonds--the Middle Class of North-America which Southerners and Englishmen equally revile, is becoming all-powerful and seeks to substitute business common-sense for the aristocratic policy which has hitherto guided us. It is no longer a question of radicalism, of poor against rich, of lazzaroni and royalists, but of a new element--that of labor and of intellect combined--the guiding-spirit of the North. And the question is, how to best aid this element in its progress?

The army of the United States at the present day contains within itself the best part of such free labor and intellect as is needed to reform the South. That dashing and daring energy which gladly enters on new fields, and loves bold enterprises, has streamed by scores of thousands from the farm and factory toward the camp and the battle-field. There it is doing brave service for God and for freedom. Every day sees martyrs for the holy cause drawn from the ranks of these good and noble volunteers. They die noble--ay, holy deaths, and as they die new aspirants for honor step forward to fill their places. When the war shall be over, it is to the army that we should look to revive the wasted South, to farm its exhausted plantations and employ its blacks. Is there no significance in the numerous anecdotes which reach us of Northern intellect already displaying itself in a thousand forms of restless activity? The newspaper before us states that General Shepley, in New-Orleans, has threatened that if the bakers of his conquered city do not supply bread more cheaply he will remodel their whole business and employ bakers from the army. 'Bakers from the army!' Ay, smiths, engineers, editors, and every thing else are there, amply capable of reörganizing the whole South--of tilling its fields to greater advantage, of developing its neglected resources, of making the old, desolate, lazy, dissolute Southland hum with enterprise. Let them do it.

_We_ may as well do it betimes with a good grace, for it is very doubtful if those who venture to oppose the settlement of our soldiers in the South, will not stir up such a storm of trouble as this country never saw. An army of half a million after a year or two years of battle-life, will not calmly return to its wonted avocations, notwithstanding all that has been said to that effect. A warrant for Western lands, which will possibly bring a hundred dollars, will seem but a small matter to men who have seen unlimited paths to competence in the rich fields of the South. They will not comprehend why the enemy should be allowed to retain his possessions while they themselves have been thrown out of employment. There is to be some end to this protecting the rights and property of rebels. And it is very certain that a vast number of those who were non-combatants will perfectly agree with them.

It is pleasant to see the process of reconstruction going on so well in New-Orleans under the bayonets of our troops. But neither in New-Orleans nor elsewhere has it any vitality save under Northern direction, aided by Northern industry. The hatred of the South for the old Union is insane, terrible, and ineradicable. The real secessionists will never come back, they will never be conciliated. They will oppose Union, oppose free labor, hinder our every effort to benefit them, and be our deadly foes to the last. We might as well abandon now and forever any hope of reconstruction to be founded on reformed secessionists. A large party there is--and it will, if properly protected, become much larger--who will join the Union for the sake of preserving their property. _But this party will not be increased a single man by our neglecting to punish those who have been active rebels_, while on the other hand it will dwindle to nothing if left exposed to temptation and enmity. We must proceed with the utmost energy, and our only hope is in a complete reörganization of the South, by infusing into it Northern blood, life, ideas, education, and industry. And the only effective means of doing this will be to settle our army in the South. The task before us is a tremendous one, but so is the war, and we must not flinch from it.

We have come to an era of great ideas and great deeds, such as rarely overtake nations in history, and which when they do, either crush them to the dust or elevate them to the topmost pinnacle of glory. Petty expediency, timid measures, small politics, will no longer help this country. There is a great cause of evil in America--slavery--which is destined to disappear, and which _will_ disappear whether we legislate for or against it. It _is_ disappearing now under the influences of the war. Beyond it lies the equally great evil of Southern hatred, inertia, laziness, ignorance, and depravity. We must learn to live in the great ideas of making all this disappear before superior intelligence, industry, and humanity. The great principles of free labor, scientific reforms and culture, the enlargement of capital, the feeding and teaching the poor, should become as a deep-seated religion in our hearts, and we should live and labor to promote this great and holy faith which is in reality the practical side of Christianity--that great shield of the poor. To extend these doctrines over the whole continent is a noble mission, and one not to be balked or hindered by foolish scruples or weak pity for a pitiless foe.

He who can raise his mind to the contemplation of the government of North-America, ruling over a perfectly _free_ continent, may see in the future such a picture of national greatness as the world never before realized. _Every_ State attracting the eager labor of millions of emigrants--for there will be no cause in future for the foreigner to carefully shun the slave hive--the native American directing as ever the enterprises--one grand government spreading from ocean to ocean--the whole growing every year more and more united through the constant increase of industrial interests and mutual needs--this is indeed a future to look forward to. And it is no idle dream. It will be something to be an American when we count one hundred millions of _united_ freemen.

The first step in this advance lies right before us. It will be in 'Northing' the South and in completely sweeping away, by means of free labor and free schools every trace of the foul old negro-owning arrogance. And to do this we must begin by finding or making a way to induce a large portion of the army to remain in the South and reform it. It is a grand scheme, but we live in the day of great deeds, and should not flinch from them.

It is, however, tolerably clear to him who looks to the future, that whether we boldly embrace this scheme or not, it will force itself upon us or else entail some great disaster. It is more to our interest to reward the army with Southern land-grants than it is even for theirs to accept them. The longer we bolster up in its possessions an insolent enemy, so much the longer shall we have to support an army and pay taxes. The sooner we weaken the enemy by introducing industrial rivals into his country, the better it will be for us.

If it be difficult to settle our army all over the South, let there be at least a vigorous beginning made in Texas, and other States. With Texas thoroughly colonized from the North and from Europe, sedition would be under constant check, and its boasted cotton supremacy completely held in by an unlimited rival supply of free-labor cotton. Every Southern port should be held and governed as New-Orleans is now being treated. In due time there would spring up a new generation of Southrons who would think of us as something else than cowardly, vulgar, stingy serfs, and learn that social merit is conferred not by being born on this or that piece of 'sacred' dirt, but by full development and exercise of the talents with which God has gifted us.

But to do all this there must be _no flinching_. This is not the time to prate of the 'unrepresented rights' of traitors, or wince at the prospect of reducing to poverty the men who have labored for years to reduce us to utter ruin!

JOHN McDONOGH THE MILLIONAIRE.

In the year 1850, and for nearly forty years previous, there could be seen almost every day in the streets of New-Orleans, a very peculiar and remarkable looking old gentleman. Tall and straight as a pillar, with stern, determined features, lit up by eyes of uncommon, almost unnatural brilliancy, with his hair combed back and gathered in a sort of queue, and dressed in the fashion of half a century ago, to wit, an old blue coat, with high collar, well-brushed and patched but somewhat 'seedy' pantaloons, of like date and texture, hat somewhat more modern, but bearing unmistakable proof of long service and exposure to sun and rain; old round-toed shoes, the top-leathers of which had survived more soles than the wearer had outlived _souls_ of his early friends and companions; a scant white vest, ruffled shirt, and voluminous white cravat, completed the costume of this singular gentleman, who, with his ancient blue silk umbrella under his arm, and his fierce eye fixed on some imaginary goal ahead, made his way through the struggling crowds which poured along the streets of New-Orleans.

The last time this strange and spectral figure was seen making its accustomed rounds was on the twenty-sixth of October, 1850. On that day, a very remarkable event occurred, which attracted the notice of passers-by and was even snatched up as an item by the ever-vigilant reporters of the daily press; this consisted simply in a notable variation from the routine and habits of the old gentleman in the long-tailed blue. He was seen to stop on Canal street, to hesitate for a few moments, and then deliberately enter an omnibus bound for the lower part of the city. Such an occurrence created quite a sensation among street-corner gossippers. There must really be some new and pressing emergency, which could produce this departure from the custom and invariable habits of forty years; so said every one who knew the old gentleman. The omnibus stopped at the court-house; the subject of these observations and his blue umbrella emerged from it, and both soon disappeared in the corridor leading to the so-called halls of justice.

That was the last that was ever seen of the strange old gentleman on the streets of New-Orleans. The evening journals of the next day contained the following obituary:

'Died this morning, the twenty-seventh of October, 1850, at
McDonoghville, opposite the city of New-Orleans, after a short
illness, John McDonogh, a native of Baltimore, but for forty years
a resident of Louisiana.'

And the strange old man, who could not ride a few squares in the omnibus without attracting the attention of every body and exciting public curiosity to such a degree, was the millionaire, the Croesus of the South, the largest land-owner in the United States. He had reached the advanced age of seventy, and his remarkable vigor and health had never given way under the pressure of the severest and most incessant labor. Generation upon generation had lapsed into the grave under his eye. A few, a very few shriveled old men were known to him as cotemporaries. Suddenly, while pursuing so eagerly his imaginary goal, he was seized with faintness on the street. Other men would have taken a cab, and ridden home, or at least to a physician's; but when did John McDonogh turn aside from business to relieve any weakness or want? He had an important document to file in court. It must be done that day. He is too weak to walk. There is the omnibus; the fare is only a dime; but that dime is so much taken from the poor, for John McDonogh is only an agent for the poor, so appointed and called of God. Such were the reflections that passed through his mind before he could be induced to perpetrate this serious violation of the settled rules of a life, this single blot and stain on a career of unbroken self-abnegation. With a sigh, he took his seat in the omnibus.

It was his last ride.

In a cold, desolate, dreary, brick building, constituting almost the only visible sign of the existence of the town of McDonoghville, situate on the right bank of the Mississippi, opposite to the centre of New-Orleans, and in a large room, the furniture of which was old-fashioned, worn, and time-stained, there lay on a small hard mattress the gaunt figure of the millionaire, tortured with pain and fast sinking under the ravages of that terrible disease, the Asiatic cholera. The only beings near were negroes; no white persons were ever allowed to spend the night under that roof. Those negroes were the rich man's slaves in law, but companions and friends in fact. His immense business, his vast estates were administered through them. Even his documents were copied by them. They were true to him in his moment of distress and sickness. All that their limited knowledge of medicine could suggest was done for his relief. At last, in disregard of his command, a physician was brought from the city, who pronounced his condition a very critical one. The doctor's first demand was for brandy.

'Massa, there an't bin no brandy in this house for twenty years,' was the reply of an old, gray-headed domestic.

A servant was dispatched to the nearest grocery; but it proved to be too late. The dying man perceived his condition, and requested that his lawyer should be sent for. In an hour that gentleman arrived. He was just in time.

'Roselins,' he said, addressing one of the most eminent of the lawyers of the New-Orleans bar, as he held his hand, 'You see I am going; you see I am not afraid to die. Take care of the estate; 'tis not mine,'tis God's and the poor's.' And thus, without a struggle, the soul of John McDonogh passed to its Maker.

His death was truly a desolate one. No devoted relatives or friends gathered around his couch to cheer his last moments with those tender tokens of love and sorrow which so sweeten the otherwise bitter cup of death. No soft hand of woman smoothed his pillow or relieved the agony of pain and suffering by the timely opiate or emollient. No weeping little ones were there to cheer his heart with the assurance that on their dear pledges of affection his name and virtues will live after him. His lawyer, physician, and his servants were the only witnesses to the mortal agony of one who could have commanded troops of devoted friends, and who possessed the qualities which might have adorned the domestic and social circle.

So departed this life the rich and eccentric possessor of acres sufficient to have made a duchy or a kingdom, and of money adequate to the maintenance of the dignity and power of such a position.

But if his death and funeral were attended by so few witnesses, an occasion quickly followed which was honored by the presence of a large, eager, curious crowd. It was when his will was probated and read in court. Intense was the curiosity of the public to know what disposition the eccentric old man had made of his enormous property. This feeling was soon gratified. The will was produced. It was a curious document, written on stout foolscap by the testator himself, in a remarkably neat, clear hand, with the lines as close as type, and his autograph signed to every page. Being an holographic will, under the law of Louisiana it required no witness. Ever since 1838, this will had lain among certain old papers of the deceased; and yet, during all this time, it had been 'the thought by day and dream by night' of the devoted old millionaire. In its preparation, he had consulted the most eminent lawyers and studied the most approved law-books bearing on his grand scheme. Truly, a curious, bold, and gigantic scheme it was. But let us to the will. In a slow, solemn and impressive tone, the judge proceeded to read to an eager and interested multitude this remarkable testament.

After setting forth, in the usual form, his nativity, his present residence, his belief in God and in the uncertainty of life, and that he has no heirs living in the ascending or descending line, and directing an inventory of his property to be taken immediately after his death, he proceeds to bequeath to the children of his sister, a widow lady in Baltimore, a ten-acre lot in Baltimore, the usufruct to remain in the widow, with six thousand dollars in cash. He then emancipates his old servants, ten in number, whom he designates. The rest of his slaves he provides shall be sent to Liberia. Certain of them are to be sent after serving those who shall succeed to his estate for fifteen years. The slaves to be sent to Liberia are to be supplied with plows, hoes, spades, axes, clothing, garden-seeds, etc.; also with letters of recommendation to the colonists, and with a copy for each of the volume of the Holy Gospel of the Old and New Testament, as the most precious of all the gifts we have it in our power to give or they to receive. The will then proceeds to provide:

'And for the more general diffusion of knowledge and consequent
well-being of mankind, convinced as I am that I can make no
disposition of those worldly goods which the Most High has been
pleased so bountifully to place under my stewardship, that will be
so pleasing to him as that by means of which the poor will be
instructed in wisdom and led into the path of virtue and holiness.'

He gives all the residue of his estate to the corporations of New-Orleans and Baltimore, in equal proportions of one half to each, for the several intents and purposes set forth, and especially for the establishment of Free Schools for all classes and castes of color, wherein they shall all be instructed in the knowledge of the Lord and in reading, writing, arithmetic, history, geography, etc., provided that the Bible shall be used as one of the class-books, and singing taught as an art.

And now comes the ingenious scheme which had engaged the constant thought and study of the testator for forty years, by which the grand passion of his soul for accumulation might survive the dissolution of his mortal frame and still direct and control the acquisitions of his life. Of his real estate, no part is ever to be sold; but it is all to be let out on leases, never to exceed twenty-five years, to be improved by the tenants or lessees. At the expiration of those leases, the property is to revert, free of cost, to his estate, to be thereafter rented out by the month or year. All his personal property is to be sold and converted into real estate, the aggregate of which is styled his general estate, which is 'to constitute' a permanent fund on interest, as it were, namely, a real estate, affording rents, no part of which fund (of the principal) shall ever be touched, divided, sold, or alienated, but shall forever remain together as one 'estate.'

The net amount of rents to be divided equally between the two cities, to be applied as follows:

1. An annuity for forty years of one eighth part, or twelve and a half per cent of the net yearly revenue of rents of the whole of the estate, to the American Colonization Society, provided the sum does not exceed twenty-five thousand dollars a year.