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Despatch to Washington. Before Spottsylvania Court-House, 11 May, 1864. I propose to fight it out on this line, if it takes all summer. Accepting a nomination for the Presidency, 29 May, 1868.

Let us have peace.

From the Inaugural Address, 4 March, 1869.

I know no method to secure the repeal of bad or obnoxious laws so effectual as their strict construction.

ULYSSES S. GRANT. 1822-85.

JURIST AND FINANCIER.

From the decision in Texas v. White, 7 Wallace, 725.

The Constitution, in all its provisions, looks to an indestructible Union composed of indestructible States.

Letter to Horace Greeley, 17 May, 1866. The way to resumption is to resume.

SALMON PORTLAND CHASE. 1808-73.

ACCEPTING THE LIBERAL REPUBLICAN NOMINATION, 20 MAY, 1872.

I accept your nomination in the confident trust that the masses of our countrymen, North and South, are eager to clasp hands across the bloody chasm which has so long divided them.

HORACE GREELEY. 1811-72.

Samuel Ward.

BORN in New York, N. Y., 1813. DIED at Pegli, Italy, 1884.

A PROEM.

[Lyrical Recreations. 1871.]

HEN in my walks I meet some ruddy lad-
Or swarthy man—with tray-beladen head,
Whose smile entreats me, or his visage sad,

WHE

To buy the images he moulds for bread,

I think that, though his poor Greek Slave in chains,
His Venus and her Boy with plaster dart,

1835-60]

Be, like the Organ-Grinder's quavering strains,
But farthings in the currency of art,—

Such coins a kingly effigy still wear,

Let metals base or precious in them mix : The painted vellum hallows not the Prayer, Nor ivory nor gold the Crucifix.

MAZURKA.

STAN

TAND aside while Schàmiloff,
In the hall of Peterhof,
Drags the Queen of Beauty off,
Duchess Olga Ròmanoff,
Stemming the dance's tide
With the Mazurka stride

Which she, so lately
Grand Duchess stately,
Follows sedately.

Now, with a victor's pride,
Clasps he her slender waist,
Twin-like they onward glide,

As though by foemen chased;
Now casts her loose, but holds,

Vice-like, her captive hand;
While, like a tempest, rolls

Louder the frantic band.
He tramps with fiercer swing,
She his pace following
Lightly as bird on wing,
Follows without demur
His clashing heel and spur;
He proud as Lucifer,
She, as an angel calm

Trusting his iron arm

Through the wild dance's swarm,

Till the orchestral storm

Melts into melodies

Soft as a summer breeze.

Now other steps they choose,
He in his turn pursues
And her forgiveness woos,
With a beseeching joy,
Woos her retreating coy,
When, like a thunder-clap,
Halt! bids the leader's rap,
And Duchess Olga sees
Schamiloff on his knees.

Ann Sophia Stephens.

BORN in Derby, Conn., 1813. DIED in Newport, R. I., 1886.

QUEEN ESTHER'S ROCK.

[Mary Derwent. 185-.]

A

CLOUD of white rose upon the water as they swept downward, sending back cries and shrieks of anguish. It sunk and rose again, this time nearer the shore. Then some human being, Indian or white, dashed through the brushwood, leaped into the stream, striking out for that mass of floating white. A plunge, a long, desperate pull, and the man was struggling up the bank, carrying Mary in his arms.

It was the missionary. He held her close to his heart; he warmed her cold face against his own, searching for life upon her lips, and thanking God with a burst of gratitude when he found it.

Mary stirred in his embrace. The beat of her arms on the waters had forced them to deal tenderly with her; and the breath had not yet left her bosom. For a moment she thought herself in heaven, and smiled pleasantly to know that he was with her. But a prolonged yell from the plain, followed by a slow and appalling death-chant, brought her to consciousness with a shock. She started up, swept back her hair, and looked off towards the sound. There she met a sight that drove all thoughts of heaven from her brain. A huge fragment of stone lay in the centre of a ring, from which the brushwood had been cut away, as an executioner shreds the tresses of a victim, in order to secure a clear blow. Around this rock sixteen prisoners were ranged, and behind them a ring of savages each holding a victim pressed to the earth. And thus the doomed men sat face to face, waiting for death.

As she gazed, Queen Esther, the terrible priestess of that night, came from her work on Monockonok Island, followed by a train of Indians, savage as herself, and swelled the horrid scene. With her son's tomahawk gleaming in her hand, she struck into a dance, which had a horrid grace in it. With every third step, the tomahawk fell, and a head rolled at her feet. The whole scene was lighted up by a huge fire, built from the brushwood cleared from the circle, and against this red light her figure rose awfully distinct. The folds of her long hair had broken loose and floated behind her, gleaming white and terrible; while the hard profile of her face cut sharply against the flames, like that of a fiend born of the conflagration.

Mary turned her eyes from this scene to the missionary: he understood the appeal.

"I will go," he said; "it may be to give up my life for theirs." "And I," said Mary, with pale firmness-"God has smitten me with a great power."

She touched her deformed shoulder, as an angel might have pointed out its wings, and sped onwards towards the scene of slaughter-her feet scarcely touched the earth. The missionary, with all his zeal, could hardly keep pace with her.

Queen Esther's death-chant increased in volume and fury as the chain of bleeding heads lengthened and circled along her tracks. Life after life had dropped before her, and but two were left, when Mary Derwent forced herself through the belt of savages and sprang upon the rock.

"Warriors, stop the massacre—in the name of the Great Spirit, I command you."

She spoke in the Indian tongue, which had been a familiar language since her childhood; her hand was uplifted; her eyes bright with inspiration; around her limbs the white garments clung like marble folds to

a statue.

Queen Esther paused and looked up with the sneer of a demon in her eyes. But the Indians who held the men yet alive withdrew their hold, and fell upon their faces to the earth.

The two men crouched on the ground, numb with horror; they did

not even see the being who had come to save them.

The missionary bent over them and whispered

"Up and flee towards Forty Fort."

They sprang up and away. The Indians saw them, but did not move. Queen Esther heard their leap, and ended her chant in a long low wail. Then she turned in her rage, and would have flung her tomahawk at the angel girl, but the Indians sprang upon the rock and guarded her with their uplifted weapons. Superstition, with them, was stronger than reverence for their demon queen.

The rage of that old woman was horrible. She prowled around the phalanx of savages like a tigress; menaced them with her weapons with impotent fury, and, springing on her horse, galloped through the forest by the smouldering fort and across the plain, until she came out opposite the little island where her son was buried. Her horse paused on the brink of the stream, white with foam and dripping with sweat, but she struck him with the flat of her tomahawk and he plunged in, bearing her to the island. Here she cast her steed loose, staggered up to the new-made grave, dropped the reeking tomahawk upon it, and fell down. from pure physical exhaustion, bathed with blood as a fiend is draped in flame.

As the aged demon took her way to that grave, the angel girl turned

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to her path of mercy. For that night the massacre was stayed. To the Indians she had appeared as a prophetess from the Great Spirit, who had laid his hand heavily upon her shoulder as a symbol of divine authority.

Stephen Arnold Douglas.

BORN in Brandon, Vt., 1813. DIED in Chicago, Ill., 1861.

HIS COUNTRY FIRST.

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[Address, on the War, to the Illinois Legislature, 25 April, 1861.]

FOR

OR the first time since the adoption of this Federal Constitution, a widespread conspiracy exists to destroy the best goverument the sun of heaven ever shed its rays upon. Hostile armies are now marching upon the Federal capital, with a view of planting a revolutionary flag upon its dome. The boast has gone forth by the secretary of war of this revolutionary government that on the first day of May the revolutionary flag shall float from the walls of the Capitol at Washington, and that on the fourth day of July the revolutionary army shall hold possession of the Hall of Independence. The simple question presented to us is whether we will wait for the enemy to carry out this boast of making war on our soil, or whether we will rush as one man to the defence of this government, and its capital, to defend it from the hands of all assailants who have threatened it. Already the piratical flag has been unfurled against the commerce of the United States. Letters of marque have been issued, appealing to the pirates of the world to assemble under that revolutionary flag, and commit depredations on the commerce carried on under the stars and stripes. Hostile batteries have been planted upon its fortresses; custom-houses have been established; and we are required now to pay tribute and taxes without having a voice in making the laws imposing them, or having a share in the distribution of them after they have been collected. The question is whether this war of aggression shall proceed, and we remain with folded arms inactive spectators, or whether we shall meet the aggressors at the threshold and turn back the tide.

I ask you to reflect and then point out any one act that has been done, any one duty that has been omitted to be done, of which these disunionists can justly complain. Yet we are told, simply because one party has succeeded in a Presidential election, therefore they choose to consider that their liberties are not safe, and therefore they will break up the govern

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