safe in telling you—and what I say comes from my sincerest convictions—we are already strong enough without you to elect a President of the United States, and to determine the future policy of the Government. Your aid is by no means indispensable. Do what you please; you may be strong enough to make our triumph still more brilliant by your support; you are too weak to prevent it by your opposition. [Prolonged and enthusiastic cheering.] And with equal confidence I will predict another thing. On the 9th day of November, 1864, the so-called Democratic party, as it is at present composed and constituted, with its present policy and aspirations, will have ceased to exist. [Repeated cheering.] Upon its tomb we may write the inscription “True to slavery to the last—to the jeopardy of the Union—even to suicide!” [Enthusiastic applause.] Like the bigoted widow of Hindostan, that party throws itself upon the funeral pile whose flames consume the putrid remains of its lord and master. [Great applause.]
This is no idle boast. The best of your old standard-bearers have left you in disgust, and are now working with heart and hand on our side. And not only they. The best of your rank and file are now fighting under the banner of the Union, not only with their muskets, but also with their votes. Do you not know it? You have heard the voices of the soldiers, not only as they speak in tones of thunder to the armed rebels of the South, but as they speak in triple tones of thunder to the disguised traitors of the North. [Enthusiastic cheers.] You boasted once that a large majority of the soldiers in the field came from the ranks of the Democratic party. Where are they now? The army vote, whenever it was cast, stood nine for the Union candidates to one for the opposition. Did the Democratic party, indeed, send only one in ten? I have heard it said that the soldiers' vote
