at a later day they were Roundheads under Cromwell or Cavaliers under Charles? When were the passions of men ever more excited than in the civil wars of Rome, that followed the passage of the Rubicon and ended only when the victory at Actium placed the imperial diadem upon the brow of Octavius? Yet more than three centuries elapsed before the empire was divided, and it was not until nearly eleven centuries more had rolled around that Mahomet II placed the Crescent above the Cross on the dome of St. Sophia and put an end forever to the Empire of the East.

But why dwell upon particulars when every nation that exists or has ever existed presents an example of the forgiveness or forgetfulness of injuries given and received. A wise Providence has ordained that hate shall not reign "eternal in the human breast." The violent passions of our nature may dominate for a time, but the strain is too great to last, and in the end the better and gentler emotions prevail. Every revolving year, though it may not blot out the memories of the past, will soften their asperities, and the time may come, more speedily than the most sanguine now hope, when a fraternal feeling will animate the breasts of all who find shelter and protection under the ægis of the republic.

CHANDLER

ZA

WACHARIAH CHANDLER, an American politician, was born in Bedford, New Hampshire, December 10, 1813, and obtained his education in the common school and a seminary. He removed to Detroit, Michigan, in 1833, and became a wealthy merchant there. In 1851 he was mayor of that city, and from 1857 to 1875 was a United States senator from Michigan. In Congress he was noted for his opposition to slavery and the extension of slave territory, and at the opening of the Civil War was very outspoken in his advocacy of a vigorous prosecution of the war by the administration. In 1875 he was defeated in a senatorial election, but was very soon appointed secretary of the interior, going out of office in 1877. He was chairman of the Republican national committee in 1868 and again in 1876, and in February, 1879, he returned to the Senate. He died in Chicago, Illinois, November 1, 1879,

CAMPAIGN SPEECH

[The following is a portion of Mr. Chandler's last speech, delivered at McCormick Hall, Chicago, on the evening of October 31, 1879:]

WR

E have a matter under consideration to-night of vastly more importance than all the financial questions that can be presented to you, and that is, Are you, or are you not a nation? We had supposed for generations that we were a nation. In 1857 treason raised its head upon the floors of Congress. They said, "Do this, or we will destroy your government. Fail to do that, and we will destroy your government." One of them repeated this threat to old Ben Wade, and he straightened himself up and said, "Don't delay it on my account.'

Careful preparations were made to carry out this treason. Arms were sent to the South. Ammunition and accoutrements followed; the navy was scattered; the credit of the government, whose six per cent bonds in 1857 sold for 122, was so utterly prostrated and debased that in February, 1862

-four years afterward - bonds payable, principal and interest, in gold, bearing six per cent, were sold for eightyeight cents on the dollar, and no buyers for the whole amount. Careful preparations were made for the overthrow of your government, and when Abraham Lincoln took the oath of office as President of these United States there was nothing to protect the national life.

Yet with all these discouragements staring us in the face, the Republican party undertook to save your government. We raised your credit; we created navies; raised armies; fought battles; carried on the war to a successful issue, and finally when the rebellion surrendered at Appomattox they surrendered to a government. They admitted that they had submitted their heresy to the arbitrament of arms, and had been defeated, and they surrendered to the government of the United States of America. They made no claims against the government, for they had none. In the very ordinance of secession which they signed they had pledged themselves, their fortunes, and their sacred honor to the overthrow of this government, and when they failed to do it they lost all they had pledged. They asked, as a boon, that their miserable lives might be spared to them. We gave them their lives.

They had forfeited all their property we gave it back to them. We found them naked and we clothed them. They were without the rights of citizenship and we restored to them those rights. We took them to our bosoms as brethren, believing that they had repented of their sins. We killed for them the fatted calf and invited them to the feast, and they gravely informed us that they had always owned that animal, and were not grateful for the invitation. By the laws of war, and by the laws of nations, they were bound to pay every

dollar of the expense incurred in putting down that rebellion. But we forgave them that debt, and to-day you are being taxed heavily to pay the interest on the debt that they ought to have paid. Such magnanimity as was exhibited by this nation to these rebels has never been witnessed on the earth since God made it, and, in my humble judgment, it will never be witnessed again.

Mistakes we undoubtedly made, errors we committed, but, in my judgment, the greatest mistake we made, and the gravest error we committed, was in not hanging enough of these rebels to make treason forever odious. To-day, in Congress, the men have changed but not the measures. Twenty years ago they said: "Do this, or fail to do that, and we will shoot your government to death." If I am to die, I would rather be shot to death with musketry than starved to death. These rebels for they are just as rebellious now as they were twenty years ago, there is not a particle of difference I know them better than any other living mortal man; I have summered and wintered with them; these rebels to-day have thirty-six members on the floor of the House of Representatives, without one single constituent, and in violation of law, those thirty-six members represent 4,000,000 people, lately slaves, who are as absolutely disfranchised as if they lived in another sphere, through shot-guns, and whips, and tissue-ballots, for the law expressly says that wherever a race or class is disfranchised, they shall not be represented upon the floor of the House. And these thirty-six members thus elected constitute three times the whole of their majority upon the floor.

This is not only a violation of the law, but it is an outrage upon all the loyal men of the United States. It ought not to be. It must not be. And it shall not be. Twelve members

of the Senate -more than their whole majority occupy their seats upon the floor by fraud and violence; and I am saying no more to you than I said to those rebel generals. With majorities thus obtained by fraud and violence in both houses they dared to dictate terms to the loyal men of these United States.

With majorities thus obtained they dared to arraign the loyal men of these United States, and say they want honest. elections. They are mortally afraid of bayonets at the polls. We offered them a law forbidding any man to come within two miles of a polling-place with arms of any description, and they promptly voted it down, for they wanted their Ku-Klux. They were not afraid of the Ku-Klux, but of soldiers. In all the northern States there is less than one soldier to a county. There is about two thirds of a soldier to a county, and, of course, about two thirds of a musket. Wouldn't this great county of Cook tremble if it saw two thirds of a soldier with two thirds of a musket approaching.

But they (the South) are afraid of inspectors. Why? The law creating inspectors is imperative that one must be a Democrat and the other a Republican. They have no power whatever except to certify that the election is honest and fair. They are afraid of marshals at the polls. The inspectors can't arrest. The marshals, under the orders of a court, can arrest criminals; therefore, they said, "We will have no marshals." When we told them we could not have courts without marshals, they said, "We don't want marshals at all." And they don't. Marshals interfere with their 66 shiners - the men who distill whiskey in the mountains of North and South Carolina, and Georgia; and they don't want any courts, because the courts interfere with their Ku-Klux at the polls.

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