shall strive to finish the work we are in, and bind up the Nation's wounds."
"I've given you fair warning," cried the old Commoner, trembling with rage, as he hobbled nearer the door. "From this hour your administration is doomed."
"Stoneman," said the kindly voice, "I can't tell you how your venomous philanthropy sickens me. You have misunderstood and abused me at every step during the past four years. I bear you no ill will. If I have said anything to-day to hurt your feelings, forgive me. The earnestness with which you pressed the war was an invaluable service to me and to the Nation. I'd rather work with you than fight you. But now that we have to fight, I'd as well tell you I'm not afraid of you. I'll suffer my right arm to be severed from my body before I'll sign one measure of ignoble revenge on a brave, fallen foe, and I'll keep up this fight until I win, die, or my country forsakes me."
"I have always known you had a sneaking admiration for the South," came the sullen sneer.
"I love the South! It is a part of this Union. I love every foot of its soil, every hill and valley, mountain, lake, and sea, and every man, woman, and child that breathes beneath its skies. I am an American."
As the burning words leaped from the heart of the President, the broad shoulders of his tall form lifted, and his massive head rose in unconscious heroic pose.
"I marvel that you ever made war upon your loved ones!" cried the cynic.
"We fought the South because we loved her and would
