The contrast in the financial condition of the contending sections is of itself enough to settle the question of ultimate success. The Federal Government stands this day stronger than ever in the plenitude of her boundless resources, and proudly contemptuous of all the false prophecies of failure and bankruptcy. She is fully prepared for new campaigns, and cannot be dismayed by any possible disaster. She has men and money in abundance sufficient for any emergency. She can stretch forth one hand to relieve the suffering people of England and Ireland, while with the other she fights the great battle of liberty against slavery, of humanity against wrong and oppression. Secure in the sympathies of the masses of men everywhere, she stands on the solid ground, which can never be withdrawn from under her feet. She occupies the central position of freedom and progress, around which cluster and gravitate the hopes and aspirations of all mankind. The conflicting elements may rage and storm; the solid ground may tremble, and even be torn with earthquake convulsions and superficial ruin; but the grand central structure, with its organizing forces, and its inward heat of humanity, with the great life-giving sun of liberty yet shining undimmed upon it, will still remain the refuge of all nations, and the chosen home of all the lovers and champions of human freedom. * * * * * Oh! why, sweet poet, is thy strain so sad? Couldst thou not stamp thy joy on human life? Yea, even the saddest life has many joys. Couldst thou not stamp thy joy upon the page, That they who should come after thee might feel Their spirits gladdened by it, and their hearts Made lighter with thy lightsomeness? For thou, They say, wert joyous as a summer bird, The very light and life of those who knew thee-- Oh! why, then, is thy song so sad? 'Tis wrong, 'Tis surely wrong, to spend in fond complainings The talents given for nobler purposes; And he who goes about this world of ours Diffusing cheerfulness where'er he goes, Like one who scatters fresh and fragrant flowers, Fulfils, I can but think, a better part Than he who mourns and murmurs life away. ....The poet Is the revealer of the heart's deep secrets; The poet is the interpreter of nature; And shall those light and joyous spirits, they Who make bright sunshine wheresoe'er they go, Shall they have no interpreter? FOOTNOTES: [1] See Hon. R. J. WALKER'S invaluable papers on 'The Union,' in CONTINENTAL MONTHLY. [2] Razeed from a line-of-battle ship. [3] Lost at sea [4] Destroyed by her officers opposite the rebel batteries at Port Hudson, Mississippi. [5] Taken by the rebels at Galveston. [6] Foundered at sea. [7] Taken by the rebels. [8] Destroyed by the rebel gunboats below Vicksburg. * * * * *