this life-or-death struggle between the Roundheads and the Cavaliers of America, between the army of the future and the army of the past. They have seen us surprised by a gigantic and well-organized rebellion, as by a thief in the night: we had no army, no navy, no arms, no war-funds in the Treasury; they have seen us create army and navy out of nothing in the twinkling of an eye, and the people pouring out their untold millions of money, as if it had not cost a drop of sweat to earn them. They have seen defeat come upon us with such stunning force, that the nation seemed to reel under the blow. And they cried “failure,” as now the allies of our enemies here are crying “failure.” But then they saw this nation quietly gather up its strength, and like the silent waves of the ocean roll against the bulwarks of rebellion. Another repulse equally stunning, and “failure” again, but again the wave rolls on with increased and tremendous momentum. And so they see the fearful game sway to and fro, disaster set at defiance with grim stubbornness, victory wrung from the grasp of an unwilling fortune, until at last the Mississippi is ours, until the Atlantic coast is fringed with our conquests, until the glorious Farragut [great cheering] has battered down the forts of Mobile, and swept the Southern waters, until the restless Sherman has dug his bloody way into the heart of Georgia [continued cheering], and until the indomitable Grant, whose unbending mind, insensible to disaster, is doggedly clinging to the heels of victory, has laid his iron hand upon the ramparts of Richmond. [Tremendous applause.] And old Europe asks: “Are they not tired yet?” See here, old Europe; this is the fourth year of the war. All rebeldom is swept clean by a merciless conscription. The President of the United States calls again for half a million of men, and from all hills and valleys resounds
