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ascended the hill, and fixed the gaze of the whole French army. As regarded themselves, the 23rd were supposed at first to have been barely not annihilated ; but eventually,
I believe, about one in four survived. And this, then, was the regiment—a regiment already for some hours glorified and hallowed to the ear of all London, as lying stretched, by a large majority, upon one bloody Aceldama — in which the young trooper served whose mother was now talking in a spirit of such joyous enthusiasm. Did I tell her the truth? Had I the heart to break up her dreams ? No. To-morrow, said I to myself—to-morrow, or the next day, will publish the worst.
T. DE QUINCEY.
THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD.
This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling,
Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms ;
Startles the villages with strange alarms.
Ah ! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary,
When the death-angel touches those swift keys !
Will mingle with their awful symphonies !
I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus,
The cries of agony, the endless groan,
gone In long reverberations reach our own.
On helm and harness rings the Saxon hammer,
Through Cimbric forest roars the Norseman's song,
O'er distant deserts sounds the Tartar gong.
I hear the Florentine, who from his palace
Wheels out his battle-bell with dreadful din ; And Aztec priests upon their teocallis
Beat the wild war-drums made of serpent's skin ;
The tumult of each sacked and burning village ;
The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns ; The soldier's revels in the midst of pillage ;
The wail of famine in beleaguered towns ;
The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder,
The rattling musketry, the clashing blade ; And ever and anon, in tones of thunder,
The diapason of the cannonade.
Is it, О man ! with such discordant noises,
With such accursed instruments as these,
And jarrest the celestial harmonies ?
Were half the power that fills the world with terror,
Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error,
There were no need of arsenals nor forts ;
The warrior's name would be a name abhorrèd !
And every nation, that should lift again Its hand against a brother, on its forehead
Would wear for evermore the curse of Cain !
Down the dark future, through long generations,
The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease ; And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations,
I hear once more the voice of Christ say, 'Peace !'
Peace ! and no longer from its brazen portals
The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies,
H. W. LONGFELLOW.
[In reply to the Address of the Mennonite Settlers in Manitoba,
August 21, 1877.)
FELLOW-CITIZENS of the Dominion and fellow-subjects of Her Majesty, I have come here to-day in the name of the Queen of England to bid you welcome to Canadian soil. With this welcome it is needless to couple the best wishes of the Imperial Government in England or the Dominion Government at Ottawa, for you are well aware that both have regarded your coming here with unmitigated satisfaction. You have left your own land in obedience to a conscientious scruple, nor are you the first to cross the Atlantic under the pressure of a similar exigency. In doing so you have made great sacrifices, broken with many tender associations, and overthrown the settled purposes of your formerly peacefully ordered lives ; but the very fact of your having manfully faced the uncertainties and risks of so distant an emigration rather than surrender your religious convictions in regard to the unlawfulness of warfare, proves you well worthy of our respect, confidence, and esteem.
You have come to a land where you will find the people with whom you are to associate engaged indeed in a great struggle, and contending with foes whom it requires their best energies to encounter. But those foes are not your fellow-men, nor will you be called
upon in the struggle to stain your hands with human blood-a task so abhorrent to your religious feelings. The war to which we invite you as recruits and comrades is a war waged against the brute forces of nature ; but those
forces will welcome our domination, and reward our attack by placing their treasures at our disposal. It is a war of ambition, --for we intend to annex territory,—but neither blazing villages nor devastated fields will mark our ruthless track ; our battalions will march across the illimitable plains which stretch before us as sunshine steals athwart the ocean ; the rolling prairie will blossom in our wake, and corn and peace and plenty will spring where we have trod.
But not only are we ourselves engaged in these beneficent occupations--you will find that the only other nationality with whom we can ever come into contact are occupied with similar peaceable pursuits. They, like us, are engaged in advancing the standards of civilisation westwards, not as rivals, but as allies; and a community of interests, objects, and aspirations has already begun to cement between the people of the United States and ourselves what I trust is destined to prove an indissoluble affection.
If, then, you have come hither to seek for peace--peace at least we can promise you. But it is not merely to the material blessings of our land that I bid you welcome. We desire to share with you on equal terms our constitutional liberties, our municipal privileges, and our domestic freedom ; we invite you to assist us in choosing the members of our Parliament, in shaping our laws, and in moulding our future destinies. There is no right or function which we exercise as free citizens in which we do not desire you to participate, and with this civil freedom we as gladly offer you absolute religious liberty. The forms of worship you have brought with you, you will be able to practise in the most unrestricted manner, and we confidently trust that those blessings which have waited upon your virtuous exertions in your Russian homes will continue to attend you here ; for we hear that you are a sober-minded and God-fearing community, and as such you are doubly welcome amongst us. It is with the greatest pleasure I have passed through your villages, and witnessed your comfortable homesteads, barns and byres, which have arisen like magic upon this fertile plain,
for they prove that you are expert in agriculture, and possess a high standard of domestic comfort.
In the name, then, of Canada and her people, in the name of Queen Victoria and her empire, I again stretch out to you the hand of brotherhood and good fellowship, for you are as welcome to our affection as you are to our lands, our liberties, and freedom. In the eye of our law, the least among you is the equal of the highest magnate in our land, and the proudest of our citizens may well be content to hail you as his fellowcountrymen. You will find Canada a beneficent and loving mother, and under her fostering care I trust your community is destined to flourish and extend in wealth and numbers through countless generations. In one word, beneath the flag whose folds now wave above us, you will find protection, peace, civil and religious liberty, constitutional freedom and equal laws.
THERE is no species of humour in which the English more excel than that which consists in caricaturing and giving ludicrous appellations, or nicknames. In this way they have whimsically designated not merely individuals, but nations ; and in their fondness for pushing a joke, they have not spared even themselves. One would think, that in personifying itself, a nation would be apt to picture something grand, heroic, and imposing ; but it is characteristic of the peculiar humour of the English, and of their love for what is blunt, comic, and familiar, that they have embodied their national oddities in the figure of a sturdy, corpulent old fellow, with a three-cornered hat, red waistcoat, leather breeches, and stout oaken cudgel. Thus they have taken a singular delight in exhibiting their most private foibles in a laughable point of view ; and have been so successful in their delineations, that there is scarcely a being in actual existence more absolutely