manifested the spirit of "Oh! that we had one of the royal family (of Macedon) to rule over us!"* Ancient Secessia had by law two kings.

Modern Secessia has "King Cotton," and longs for a British Prince.

Thus the parallel is complete, and as Greece fell from disunion, before the Macedonian phalanx, so we will fall, if we remain dismembered-both sections will fall-before European diplomacy.†

It becomes the war-ridden people of both sections, therefore, to reconstruct the Union, and to present to foreign nations, once and forever, a front unbroken and one.

Washington was right when he said, "The Union is the palladium of your safety." Nor was he wrong when he wrote:

*London Times Russell.

The name of NAPOLEON is prophetic of his purpose. By dropping letter by letter from the Greek name, Nanwλɛov, we have a Greek sentence complete, which signifies-Napoleon being a lion, is going forth from a lion, the destruction of

cities.

We all know that he took refuge, for a time, in England, the emblem of which is a Lion; when he went to France and became emperor, he, therefore, went from a lion, and proved himself a lion; and now he roars at the cannon's mouth at Puebla (next door to the United and Confederate States), that he has come to devour American cities. For the information of the curious I will here state that the Greek sentence, foreshadowing all this, runs thus : Ναπολέων, απολεον, πολεων, ολέων, λεων, εων, ων.

Let my countrymen then beware of mediation from Napoleon-and of Jewett, whose name is capable of a damaging and ignoble construction.

"There can be no greater error than to expect, or calculate upon, real favors from nation to nation. It is an illusion which experience must cure, which a just pride ought to discard."*

But, in these days of tumult, the radical howlings, North and South, have drowned the voice of the Father of his Country. In vain he pleads with his disobedient children. The Radicals of the South and of the North have alike invited England to interfere in our troubles, the one by bidding for recognition, and the other by bidding against it. It is treason to the whole people to bid for the subjugation of any part of them.

Meanwhile, the Lion of England steals through the forest, scenting his prey. His hot breath is almost on our faces, his mane is gradually bristling

* "FAREWELL ADDRESS"—all of which seems at this time more like the inspiration of a prophet than the production of a mere statesman. The reader can not too often peruse Washington's Farewell Address. For instance, what can be more sublime than the following tearful plea: "In offering to you, my countrymen, these counsels of an old and affectionate friend, I dare not hope they will make the strong and lasting impression I could wish; that they will control the usual current of the passions, or prevent our nation from running the course which has hitherto marked the destiny of nations; but if I may even flatter myself that they may be productive of some partial benefit, some occasional good; that they may now and then recur to moderate the fury of party spirit, to warn against the mischiefs of foreign intrigues, to guard against the impostures of pretended patriotism; THIS HOPE will be a full recompense for the solicitude for your welfare by which they have been dictated." Shall that hope be disregarded?

with anticipated vengeance, his roar will soon shake the atmosphere-will my countrymen, North and South, permit all the blessings achieved by the sword of our Washington, to be lost through neglect of his farewell advice?

With the above pregnant question, I conclude this work, which will soon be followed by another, entitled "Results of my Southern and Northern Experience," which will be presented under the form of three historical parallels, with a proposed plan of reconstruction.

Hoping soon to meet the reader again, I now bid him a temporary adieu, and as I stand, pour prendre congé, with the door-knob in my left hand, with my right I wave him an Au revoir!

LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR TO HIS MOTHER.

MY DEAR MOTHER:

NEW YORK, February 15th, 1863.

This month, two long and dreary years ago, I was dragged from your arms by an infuriated mob of demons, and driven a fugitive from my adopted State of Alabama.

Since that hour, the war, which to foretell and endeavor to prevent was my only crime, has deluged your native Virginia in blood, and doublelocked the portals of intelligence, at which I have knocked and waited in vain for news of you and my only brother.

During that fearful time, while Liberty has bidden adieu to the whole country, and arbitrary arrests have filled the bastiles of the South and of the North with victims of a duplicate despotism, I have many times essayed to write to you and brother Marion; but no means of transportation for letters has been offered, because Mr. Lincoln was afraid I would say something revealing the Union element of the North, which is not tainted with Abolitionism, and Mr. Davis was afraid I would say something appealing to the Union element of the South, which is untainted with Secessionism.

The mutual jealousy of these two satraps of each other, and of every thinking mind and speaking tongue and pen in the Republic, would be amusing, dear mother, if it were not so dreadful in its results. Radicalism, or Sectionalism, South and North, delighting in extremes and rioting in anarchy, has planted the dagger into our bleeding hearts, and then commands the mother and her persecuted son to hold no intercourse in a country once free to the feet and the lips of millions of now trampled serfs.

Having failed so often in getting news of you or to you by the ordinary modes of communication, I include this letter in my book, hoping that some good soul will convey the whole work to your hand and thus soothe your sorrows by this fleeting glimpse of your exiled son.

I am agonized with the unwelcome but often

recurring thought that, perhaps, we are never more to see each other in the flesh. The fearful vision of your decease is even now rending asunder the chords of my heart. The shroud and the coffin may, ere this, have intervened their spectral folds, the spring verdure may be even now waving above a new-made grave, in which reposes the unwaking eyes of my aged mother! while I am not permitted by the fiends of mobocracy to drop a tear, or to plant a rose upon her last resting-place.

These thoughts have preyed upon my mind and upon my health. In addition to these reflections, my wife and children are in very poor health, and the former mourns, like me, over absent relations, whom she may never more behold. Her old mother, like you, is bereaved of a child by the atrocious usurpations of King Cotton and Emperor Davis. Like you, she has a son forced, by circumstances beyond his control, into the armies of Southern Despotism. Thus I carry a triple burden, and can only see in a peaceful reconstruction of the National Democratic Party on a constitutional basis, and a reconstruction of the old, or a more liberal, Union, by means of the united action of Unionists South and North, any hope of ever seeing again my kith and kin, any hope of civilization, or of what our Litany prays every Sabbath, that God will give to all nations-" unity, peace, and concord."

If this letter ever reaches you, dear mother (and I sometimes indulge the fond hope that it will find