Lord God Almighty; just and true are thy ways. thou King of Saints!" And the flag itself, as if true if true to its instincts and mission, flung its emblematic folds directly over the waters of the harbor, and towards the conquered city of Charleston. That cradle of the Rebellion cannot escape the domination of the "flag of the free heart's hope and home!" The instant the banner touched the peak, the six guns upon the parapet of Sumter, looking towards Charleston, pealed forth their detonations. Then, answering, from all the surrounding fortifications-Forts Moultrie, Ripley, Pinckney, Putnam, Johnson, Cumming's Point, Battery Bee-from every battery that took part in the bombardment of Fort Sumter in 1861, and from all the vessels of war in the harbor, came the thunder of mighty cannon, in national salute, until the "earth shook and trembled," and the air grew dark with the gathering clouds of smoke which rolled their dun and murky volume over the harbor, shutting out from sight at length the city, and the lightning flash of the cannonade. There was a general stampede from the interior, to the walls of the fort, that the sense of sight as well as of hearing, might be gratified. Those who were first upon this outlook describe the cordon of fire by which they were surrounded as something startlingly magnificent. But those who reached the parapet later returned disappointed, for it was only like looking into a bank of fog, and the sand, stirred up by the recoil of Fort Sumter's guns, was driven into their eyes in blinding clouds. They were glad to resume their seats, and at the expiration of the salute, which lasted about half an hour, compose themselves to listen to the next grand exercise upon the programme. 6. The Address, by the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. As Mr. Beecher came forward upon the platform, he was greeted with a round of cheers. This Rev. gentleman, who has contended with foemen of almost every kind, found two antagonists awaiting him, which, with his usual dexterity, he baffled upon this occasion. These were his manuscript, in detached leaves, and a strong northwesterly wind. At first onset, he removed his grey felt hat from his head, and held his MSS. in his left hand. But the indiscriminate wind toyed so familiarly with his iron-grey ear-locks, and played such fantasias upon the thin leaves of his address, that he placed his errant locks again in confinement, and addressed himself with both hands to his refractory documents. He had conquered. Mr. Beecher read his entire oration, pausing once midway, to rest his overtaxed voice, while the band played a patriotic air. The address was carefully composed, and thoroughly considered. Clearness and force marked all its periods. The principles laid down were emphatic, and almost exhaustive. The policy of the Government was sharply defined, and the feeling of the people faithfully represented. In delivery, it lacked the peculiar magnetism of his less studied efforts, but his decision to commit all his thoughts to paper, commended itself to every better judgment. From beginning to end, he seemed deeply impressed with the consciousness that he was speaking, at least, semi-officially, and that his utterances would be regarded, not only as the voice of the authorities at the Capital, and of all the nation, but would pass from that hour into history. But as a verbatim report of the entire address is here introduced, every reader of this volume may become his own commentator. It has already been widely circulated, and universally read, and is included within these pages, not to give to it publicity, but that they may have, at least, one adornment, and because their humble record would be sadly incomplete without it. THE ADDRESS. On this solemn and joyful day, we again lift to the breeze, our father's flag, now, again, the banner of the United States, with the fervent prayer that God would crown it with honor, protect it from treason, and send it down to our children, with all the blessings of civilization, liberty and religion. Terrible in battle, may it be beneficent in peace. Happily, no bird or beast of prey has been inscribed upon it. The stars that redeem the night from darkness, and the beams of red light that beautify the morning, have been united upon its folds. As long as the sun endures, or the stars, may it wave over a nation neither enslaved nor enslaving. (Great applause.) Once, and but once, has treason dishonored it. In that insane hour, when the guiltiest and bloodiest rebellion of time hurled their fires upon this fort, you, sir, (turning to General Anderson) and a small heroic band, stood within these now crumbled walls, and did gallant and just battle for the honor and defence of the nation's banner. (Applause.) In that cope of fire this glorious flag still peacefully waved to the breeze above your head, unconscious of harm as the stars and skies above it. Once it was shot down. A gallant hand, in whose care this day it has been, plucked it from the ground, and reared it again,-"cast down but not destroyed." After a vain resistance, with trembling hand and sad heart, you withdrew it from its height, closed its wings, and bore it far away, sternly to sleep amid the tumults of rebellion and the thunder of battle. The first act of war had begun. The long night of four years had set in. While the giddy traitors whirled in a maze of exhileration, dim horrors were already advancing, that were ere long to fill the land with blood. To-day you are returned again. We devoutly join with you in thanksgiving to Almighty God, that he has spared your honored life, and vouchsafed you the honors of this day. The heavens over you are the same; the same shores; morning comes, and evening, as they did. All else, how changed! What grim batteries crowd the burdened shores! What scenes have filled this air and disturbed these waters ! These shattered heaps of shapeless stone are all that is left of Fort Sumter. Desolation broods in yonder sad city-solemn retribution hath avenged our dishonored banner! You have come back with honor, who departed hence, four years ago, leaving the air sultry with fanaticism. The surging crowds that rolled up their frenzied shouts, as the flag came down, are dead, or scattered, or silent; and their habitations are desolate. Ruin sits in the cradle of treason. Rebellion has perished. But, there flies the same flag that was insulted. (Great and prolonged applause.) With starry eyes it looks all over this bay for that banner that supplanted it, and sees it not. (Applause.) You that |