granite gates. The drum-beat of war has been an open sesame, throwing back the unsuspected portals, and discovering vista upon vista stretching down measureless distances till the solemn aisles lose themselves in the inward fastnesses of humanity.

Times that try men's souls! We have fallen on such times. We are all in the crucible.

"We wait beneath the furnace blast
The pangs of transformation."

In common days we go on pleasantly together. We lift ourselves to gentle heights. We slide, unastonished, into easy depths. The war comes slowly at first, and not severe. It is a toy, brilliant and sonorous, with just enough of danger to make it piquant, fascinating, exhilarating. It stirs our sluggish blood to heroic, joyful pulses. We watch it with eager eyes, but a smile on the lips. It rolls along, furrowing for itself a deeper groove in our lives, our homes, our hearts. It is no longer a toy; it has grown into a fearful engine. We cannot toss it away. We cannot control it. We can but imperfectly guide it. It whirls on, now slowly, now swiftly, always terrible, crushing a nation's hearts beneath its iron wheels. Inexorable, pitiless, we fling ourselves in vain against those ponderous sides, and tears and sobs and moans are powerless to hinder its career. The smile dies out of our lips. Shall they become tremulous with fear, pallid with despair, distorted

with base entreaty, or shall they be firm with manly purpose?

This is the test, the trial. This shall show what manner of people we are. The way in which we bear ourselves through the lingering and disastrous days of this war, shall be our proof to ourselves and to our children. We can be weak, impatient, querulous, driven about by every wind of rumor, now desponding, now exultant, complaining, foreboding, lamenting, regretting. We can be hopeful, cheerful, trustful, patient, learning to wait as well as to labor, drawing from history, from philosophy, from religion, consolation under defeat, caution in judgment, industry after victory, energy after disaster, and wisdom in all things.

We can see in numerous instances how these times have tried men's souls. Here and there they "shine in the sudden making of splendid names." Men who walked unknown along the plains of peace, have risen above the wild surgings of these war-waves "in shape and gesture proudly eminent." There have been unfolded calm souls, clear to see, and strong to grasp the opportunity. The fire that lay hidden in many a heart has flashed out into flame, consuming the gathered dross of drowsy years, and refining the latent gold. Among the living and the dead, we count up names that will never die. We have seen, too, sadder sights. Men that did run well,

hindered,men that stood in angel guise whispering softly into the world's slumberous ear, changed by the touch of these glittering war-spears into loathsome shapes, - men who were thought to have attained the fulness of the ideal manhood, weighed in the balance and found wanting, – hopes that did mount gloriously, coming down in utter darkness.

on.

The nation has been tried, — tried by domestic rebellion, by foreign threats, by the frightful incapacity of its leaders, and the trial is still going Its courage, its persistence, its magnanimity, its resolution, its humanity,—almost every quality that a nation should possess, has been tried by the exigencies of this war, and is yet in the furnace heat. What the result will be, God alone knows.

Insatiable ambition, insatiable avarice, struck deep into the nation's life, this war has brought to light. But there has also been developed an eagerness for sacrifice, an unselfish devotion, a trust in God, which is the basis of noble character. God will decide the issue. He knows whether there is virtue enough in the land to redeem it. If it is worth saving, it will be saved. If it is not worth saving, it is better that it should be destroyed. He doeth His pleasure among the inhabitants of earth as well as in the armies of heaven. Our part is to work with might and main; to strain nerve and muscle to put down the rebellion on the one side, and to

raise our own standard, and the standard of all men, to the moral heights which God requires, on the other. We sigh for a great man, but it may be the will of God - it certainly is so far that we shall not have a great man. We must do the work ourselves. A great man is not in accordance with the "spirit of our institutions." We are a democracy, and it is the people that must save the country. We must work with such material as we have. And while we are doing with our might whatsoever our hands find to do, we must, if we are faithful, besiege the throne of Heaven with an importunity that will not be resisted; in all places and at all times making supplication unto God for the help that he never refuses; beseeching him to take the leadership, and so to guide us that our cause shall be His cause, and our prayer for national unity, and peace, and freedom, one with "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done."

OR many years the great bugbear of this country has been Disunion. Lovejoy was shot in Alton; Dr. Bailey was

mobbed in Washington; Judge Hoar was driven out of Charleston; and Garrison was dragged through the streets of Boston with a rope around his neck, to placate this implacable monster. Books were tampered with, traffic was tainted, printing-presses thrown into the river, and pulpits so polluted that they ought to have been; nothing was held too precious, too sacred, to be offered on his shrine. Free speech, free press, free action, were all tossed into his ravenous maw. Statesmen, tradesmen, merchants, ministers, saints, and sinners, all went down on their knees, and agreed that black was white, if so he might be fended off. Nay, they not only agreed to it, they argued it; they swore to maintain it, and henceforth to toler ate no doubt, and suffer no agitation on the subject, lest the dragon should rear his horrid front again.