sonal disappointment or the groveling animosity of minor differences of opinion? Now, you insist upon being small when the country expects every one of her sons to rise to the height of her own destiny? Now, when the fate of the Republic stands upon the brink of the most fearful decision, a decision which will be irrevocable for ever? Party! Have you not learned yet that in times of a great crisis there can be only a for and against, and that all which is half this and half that must he ground to dust as between two mill-stones? [Loud applause.] Have you not learned that lesson in the contest of 1860? Then you will learn it now, when your organization is crumbling to pieces like a rotten stick, dangerous for him who leans upon it; crumbling to pieces in spite of artful duplicity, in spite of trade and bargain. This is not a mere accident; it is the inexorable logic of things. [Applause.] And out of this disgraceful shipwreck you can hesitate to save the proud privilege of being useful to your country? Not I alone entreat you thus. Hear the voice of him, who leads your sons and brothers on the field of battle: “The end is near; only let the North be true to herself! Unity of sentiment and unity of action, and victory is sure!” And not he alone. Every sigh and moan of the wounded soldier, every drop of blood that stains our battle-fields, every tear that moistens the pale checks of our widows and orphans, cries out to you: “Take care that this be not in vain. Unite for the struggle!” [Applause.]
But, believe me, it is not from fear of failure that I appeal to you. I appeal to you that your names may not go down to your children on the suspicious list of the doubtful. I wish that the country might be proud of all her sons.
Indeed, whatever you may do, we fear you not; for,
