If the rebellion, by the burdens which it leaves behind, shall bring about these two results--the adoption of a wise and permanent system of revenue, and the establishment of a sound currency by the prohibition of all bank circulation--it will have accomplished ends only inferior in importance to the two primary consequences, the overthrow of the principle of secession and the destruction of slavery. Thus, this tremendous convulsion would bring out of the chaos a new order in the political world, by annihilating secession, and by perpetuating the Union and banishing all fear of its dissolution; in the social, by substituting free men for slaves; in the financial, by a permanent adjustment of tariffs and taxation; and in the commercial, by the prohibition of bank paper and the substitution of a safe and uniform currency. 'I;' OR, SUMMER IN THE CITY.' 'I love the sweet security of streets.'--CHARLES LAMB. 'I,' my charming friend, do not fully sympathize with the late Mr. Lamb's statement, as quoted above; which statement I always have believed partially owed its origin to its very tempting alliterative robe. For myself, I do _not_ particularly like the 'sweet security of streets,' but vastly prefer 'a boundless contiguity of shade,' especially during the present month--August--or 'A life on the ocean wave.' I do not mean a permanent residence there--that would be liable to be damp and unhealthy, and altogether too insecure to be 'sweet;'--but when I say a 'life on the ocean wave,' it is merely my poetical license for a cottage at Newport. (I wish, indeed, that I had any _but_ a poetical one for such a possession!) But what folly for me to talk of a cottage there! when my limited income does not even admit of a cot in the cheapest of seaside inns. Gentle reader! shrink not from me when, in addition to this melancholy confidence, I also announce to you that I live in town--in 'Boston town,' to be accurate--during August! I belong to the 'lower orders of society;' and my only Newport is the Public Garden, or a walk to Longwood, and, when I am _very_ affluent, a horse-car drive to Savin hill, where a teaspoonful of sea view is administered to the humble wayfarer. Yes! I positively did exist in the city, not only through the month of August, but all the summer days of all the summer months. I mention _August_ in the city, because I know that has a peculiarly God-forgotten and forsaken sound. I should soon cease to exist anywhere, I fancy, if I did _not_ stay in town, for (horror No. 2!) I work at a trade in order to earn my daily bread and coffee! What my particular trade is, I am not going to divulge--that shall remain a delicious mystery (the only delicious thing about it); only this much I will confide: I do not, _a la_ Mr. Frederick Altamont, 'sweep the crossing.' Unhappy Altamont! he did not appreciate the sweet security of streets. 'Poor thing!' you exclaim, 'work at a trade?'