The Continental Monthly, Vol. 4, No. 2, August, 1863: Devoted to Literature and National PolicyVarious
History
The Continental Monthly, Vol. 4, No. 2, August, 1863: Devoted to Literature and National Policy
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
Oh, we're not tired of fighting yet,
Nor ripe for disuniting yet!
Before they do it, or get through it,
There'll be some savage biting yet!
Then hip, hurrah for Uncle Sam!
And down with all secesh and sham!
From Davis to Vallandigham,
They all shall rue their treason yet!
* * * * *
We cannot close the present number of THE CONTINENTAL without a few
words of fervid congratulation to our readers and countrymen. We may
greet each other now with glad hearts and uplifted brows. What a
glorious "Fourth" was ours, with our Eagle scattering the heavy
war-clouds which hung around us, soaring to gaze once more undazzled at
the sun of liberty; our stars again shining down clear upon us from
their heaven of light! Joy sparkles in every eye, and high, strong words
flash from every tongue. Grant victorious--Vicksburg ours--the army of
the Potomac covered with glory--Meade everywhere triumphant, and in full
pursuit of our flying and disheartened foe! Heroes and soldiers, your
country blesses and thanks you!
Let us now resolve that with every day our Union shall grow closer. Let
faction die; political intrigue cease to rear its serpent head; let
doubt become trust; suspicion, faith! Countrymen, let us also learn to
pity the unhappy race whom this war must free. You cannot now prevent
it; its first tocsin of liberty pealed with the first gun fired at Fort
Sumter. After long ages of barbaric night, of slavery, of misery, these
beings cut in ebony begin to robe themselves as men; on the battle field
they have at last put on the virile toga dyed in blood, not now drawn by
the lash from the back of the wretched chattel, but from the heart of
the man face to face with his oppressor on the field of righteous
battle. Rude and uncultured, they hold up to you hands hard with labor,
still bleeding from the scarcely fallen manacles, and implore aid and
manly mercy. Let it be granted without stint, and let not the freedom
God has given, become a curse to them! You cannot roll back the stately
steppings of destiny--and let this great and magnanimous people show its
magnanimity now!
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