THE PURIFICATION AND RECONSTRUCTION OF THE AMERICAN UNION. AN ORATION DELIVERED AT VALLEJO, JULY IV, 1867. BY FRANKLIN ELIOT FELTON. PUBLISHED BY REQUEST. SAN FRANCISCO: EDWARD BOSQUI & COMPANY, BOOK AND JOB PRINTERS, MDCCCLXVII. ORATION. ON the placid bosom of San Francisco Bay gently rocks at anchor a plague-stricken ship, whose cabin and decks have lately witnessed scenes of anguish, tribulation, and death, that appall the stoutest heart, and blanch the manliest cheek. As the frigate Jamestown, on her mission of mercy, reposed on the sunny waters of Panama, Grim Pestilence invaded her dark hull, and, without authority of a commission, assumed supreme command, issuing imperious orders with more than martial rigor. Descending to the orlop deck he grappled bluff sailors and marines, and straightway the shriek of agony, the ravings of delirium and the rattle of death resounded through the fated vessel. Stalwart men, impotent to cope with their merciless adversary, succumbed beneath his ponderous strokes, and were reverently borne by sorrowing comrades to lonely graves by the shore of the resonant sea. Gloating on the havoc and craving more illustrious victims, the flushed conqueror, turning from the humble deck, strode through the cabin door and knocked with icy hand at the state-room of the scarred veteran and the rosy-cheeked ensign. Though environed by peril and menaced with destruction, the gallant officers and crew neither shrank from duty nor deserted their posts. Staring fate in the face, they soothed their afflicted shipmates, and awaited with fortitude their impending doom. Ordered to duty on the infected vessel, officers hastened aboard without falter, although conscious of entering their living sepulcher. With pious tenderness comrades closed the eyelids of the dying, and performed the last sad rites over loved companions. At last the welcome order sounded to remove. the charnel-ship to some salubrious clime, and the emaciated crew, summoning their wasted strength, and with eager alacrity manned the capstan and weighed anchor, joyous to escape from the loathsome bay and its attendant gloom. Long, weary days the ship, becalmed, lay motionless on the waters; the sails flapped listlessly around the masts, yet the Angel of Death remorselessly claimed his victims. At length propitious breezes wafted the vessel |