This is a season of joy, not that fellow-citizens in arms against us have been overcome, not that blood is flowing, not that fields and villages and towns are smoking, but that our country is redeemed from peril, and the public enemy is beaten down under our feet. [_Long continued applause._] Such is the occasion of rejoicing to-night. Hearts overflow, eyes glisten, the voice cries out with gladness, the heart echoes to the booming cannon, and victory thrills us all with its bewitching, triumphant music. This, Sir, is the time to rejoice: for there is a time to lament, and there is a time also to enjoy; and this is a time for joy. “Blow, bugles, blow! set all your wild notes flying!” Unhappy those who cannot unite in our joy! Unhappy those who, as they listen to the triumphant salvos, to the swelling music, and to these exultant voices here to-night, cannot echo them back with gladness in their hearts! Unhappy all such, who call themselves by the American name! And why can they not rejoice? Alas! it is because their sympathies are with the enemy, or because they place party above country, even to the extent of seeing that country cut in twain [_A voice, “Shame!”_], like the false mother who appeared for judgment before Solomon. The wise monarch clearly perceived that a woman ready to see her child divided in two was a false mother: so may we all clearly perceive that people ready to see their country divided in two are false citizens. The judgment of Solomon stands good to this hour, against all showing such perfidious insensibility. Fellow-citizens, these Northern renegades (I like to call things by their proper names, and I thank my honored friend who preceded me for his exposition, telling how near they come to being traitors)--these Northern renegades are nothing else than unarmed guerrilla bands of Jefferson Davis, marauding here at the North. [_Loud cheers._] They cry out, “_Peace!_”--but, fellow-citizens, are we not all for peace? Sir, are you not for peace? Are not all the honored gentlemen by whom I am surrounded for peace? Peace is the sentiment, the longing, the passion of my life. Not Falkland in the bloody days of the English civil war cried, “_Peace! Peace!_” more fervently than I do now. For me the day begins, continues, and ends with this aspiration; but it is precisely because I am thus determined for peace, because peace is with me such a be-all and end-all, that I now insist, at all hazards, that this Rebellion shall be overthrown and trampled out at once and utterly, so that it shall never again break forth in blood. [_Loud cheers._] In the name of peace, and for the sake of good-will among men, do I now insist that this Rebellion shall be so completely blasted as to leave behind no root or remnant which may become the germ of future war.