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And far wider than municipalities and States, the blow will be struck all over the Union, and the next occupant of the White House chair will owe his elevation-of which he must be worthy—to invisible hands. Even now, while no man can say of it more than is said of the wind, “It goeth and cometh as it listeth," there is fright and confusion in every political camp. The master demagogues, the whippers-in, the men who have been the leaders, the Sampsons of their hosts, grope stone-blind in the midst of their temples, waiting to be buried when the pillars shall be shaken by the coming scourge. The tricky place-men feel their doom at hand. They would trade to avert it, but they idly beat the air in their search for the angel of the scourge. Here he is, and there he is, they cry

. but they find him not. One says the scourge is against that party, and another that it is against this ; yet the only thing men know is this :—that it is against all men, and all parties, who have been false, or are likely—having the power—to be false to this Union, this American Republic.

If any party may seem—as one perhaps does—to have most severely felt the scourge, it is because that party has most betrayed and trampled on the principles that should accompany its sacred name ; because its possession of that name—a pretentious cheat—has most enabled it to barter the officers and interests of the land to a foreign horde. No other party could have so sold a country, and raised up

in its midst a sedition against its most cherished institutions and ideas—nor can this one do it longer, nor could it have done it, but for a delusive rame, and the easy temper until thoroughly


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aroused, of the American people. The game is now up! Neither coaxing nor threatening can stay the impending blow that is to punish the shameless traders and traitors, native or foreign, until every citizen shall be glad and proud to say, "I, too, am an American."

The secret forces that wield the silent scourge, clearly - understand their work. They aim at the right mark. They strike no indiscriminate blows, but smite the jockeys who have curried the foreign horse (worse than the fabled Greek), who have seduced and misled the people, and for a time have played their game of place and plunder without check. These are the heads to lop off, be they little or big, be they representatives or executives. Its silence preserved, a party organization avoided, and eternal vigilance—the price of libertywritten on its front, and all men will yet bless this scourge. It will purify the land. It will bury all young or old foreignalities, and, placing the destinies of the country in American hands, at home and abroad, will make the name of the American Republic honored and respected throughout the worldwhich is not the case now. We warn nobody, for we know nothing more than is open and visible, to all who choose to see. But we reckon a warning is felt, and that it has struck deep in the right quarter, and will strike deeper, until the joints of political schemers are made to rattle louder than did ever the “dry bones" in the valley. All we have to say is, God speed the silent scourge, until its bravely begun work is triumphantly done!


My Native Land ! in many a dream

Beneath the northern skiesAmid the purpling clouds, I see

Thy dark Green Mountains rise ; And proudly o'er thy valley sands

The bright blue waters roll, Whose music broke at life's clear dawn.

With glory on my soul.

Though years have flown since last I saw

Thy mountains' cresting pines,
I love thee for the memories

That cling around thy shrines :
For all that e'er my boyhood knew-

Loved, beautiful or grand-
Is cradled 'mong thy hills and vales,

My own Green Mountain land.

I love thee for those hero souls

Who answered Freedom's call; I love thee for the liberty

Thou claim'st and giv'st to all;

I love thee for the stalwart arms

And braver hearts, that stand A stronger guard than castle walls,

For thee—my Native Land !

I may have trod in sunnier climes,

Where rolls the flashing Rhine, Or Albion rears her chalky cliffs

A kindlier soil than thine ; But never have I seen the spot-.

Loved, beautiful or grandThat led my heart away from thee,

My own Green Mountain Land.*

* Vermont.

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It is idle to measure the United States as a nation, or the Americans as a people, by drawing parallels. The entire history of the world furnishes no parallel, either to the Republic or the people, so that all inferences drawn, and prophecies made, on the strength of what nations and races have done in past time, are a lost illustration applied to us. Every nation has its peculiarities, every age its phase, and every people its distinct manifestations. The nation is an image of the people ; the people are a reflex of circumstance and condition ; and the age is a cycle through which nation and people pass. The attempt to justify or condemn, by contrasting moderns with ancients, generally shows the imbecility of searchers for analogies. The only analogy that can be drawn between nations or races, is, that the one were either kingdoms, empires, hierarchies, oligarchies, or republics, from their form of government; and the other either savage, barbarous, civil· ized or enlightened. There is just so much similarity, and no more. Scythia was a kingdom, and so is England-Greece was a republic, and so is the United States; and there the parallel ends.

The old kingdom and republic founded their politics upon


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