tling enunciation that "The Union must and shall be preserv ed." Both these great political lights remained faithful to the creed they cherished; they went to their rewards full of honors, and, like the setting sun, seemed greatest as they sank torest. They fought the good fight; they finished their course; they kept the faith. But if Jefferson had finally changed his theories of man's equality to the advocacy of a government based upon the foundations of perpetual negro slavery, and if Jackson had sought the destruction of the Union by armed rebellion, or had justified or apologized for those who did so, they would have better represented Demonology than Democ racy, and their memories would have been scorned and execrated instead of being embalmed in a grateful nation's heart.

Judas, so badly conspicuous in sacred history, breaks upon us as a disciple and follower of his meek and lowly master; but he was so no longer when he became copper-headed and copperhearted, and betrayed his Lord to the Confederate Priests. Benedict Arnold was the proud associate of Washington in the early history of the Revolution, and his name was upon every tongue for military skill and intrepid daring. In an evil hour, like modern Arnolds, he became "dissatisfied with the prosecution of the war and the administration of the government," seceded from his high estate, and was a Revolutionary patriot no longer, but

"Left a traitor's name to other times,

Linked with one virtue and a thousand crimes."

More manly, however, than his copyists of our day, this illustrious wretch did not content himself with apologizing for and justifying those who robbed and pillaged and murdered his countrymen, but he entered the service to which he had sold his polluted being, and was first and foremost in the work of havoc and destruction with his blood-red hand. And yet Judas should pass for a worthy disciple, and Arnold for a distinguished patriot, with those who believe it is good citizenship and true Democracy to resist or embarrass the government in its efforts to crush the rebellion which seeks our destruction as a nation.

I am an old-fashioned and adhering Democrat, and believe in the sublime creed of Democracy to-day, as I have through a

long and somewhat eventful life. But Democracy, like coin, may be counterfeit, and in proportion as the true is valuable the spurious is vile and worthless. I believe, too, that no party, as such, can or should attempt to conquer the rebellion, but that all can and should act together in the grand accomplishment. I by no means include in my sweeping and censorious designation the great rank-and-file of the Democracy, whom I know to be true to the Union, who have been misled by self-constituted and fussy leaders by appeals to their partisan pride and prejudices, and creeds and traditions; for such are as mistaken as they are honest, in clinging to their partisan standards, and attempting to run the political car in the old ruts and grooves worn in times of party conflict, as though this intestine war were a bloodless canvass for the Presidency, and to be disposed of by platforms and regulated by resolutions. But the self-elected leaders, those who invoke partisan strife; who direct the partisan machinery, and would jeopard and divide our Union, if not madly destroy the best free government on earth, for the gratification of malignant feelings and unworthy aspirations;—they must take the highest niche in the temple of infamy, to which a world's opinion has universally assigned them for their baseness-for to-day they are the mainsprings of this murderous rebellion, by promoting strife at home, and they give its chief aliment and life and hope and endurance. They have been, by a common consent, designated as Copperheads, and no name could be more appropriate. Strutting under their borrowed plumes and vain conceits; claiming officiously to speak for Democracy, to whose creed they seem strangers, they boast of the many reproachful names the Democratic party has in other days been able to carry away triumphantly, and declare their ability to render this one reputable and popular. But they forget that it was that Democratic party which professed and practised the principles of Jefferson and Jackson w ich was thus successful; that it was not incumbered by treasonable leaders of the whole or half-blood; that it did not attempt to uphold conspiracy and rebellion against the government, and that so long only as its doctrines were popular and acceptable could it laugh at reproachful names. The true Democratic party might at any time have withstood successfully the mere des

ignation of copperhead, but it has never seen the day, and God grant that it never may, when it could endure such leaders as these, and carry over the bleeding fragments of a murdered, crucified, and dissevered Union, both a brazen head and a copper heart.

An ancient fable tells us of a serpent-it was, doubtless, a copperhead-which gave up the lead to the tail instead of the head; that, in attempting to crawl through a wall, stuck fast, and remained there, indulging in outery, too wilful to recede, and unable to progress because of changing to the front its tapering tail; and such seems now to be the position of the party which bears a serpent's name, and is executing a serpent's mission. The miserable accomplice of rebellion, its chief hope, its malign and mischievous co-worker and supporter, has already had its day, and indications are abundant that it is to be abandoned to its fate by those it has, by its snaky influences, betrayed into so grave an error as to apologize for treason and murder in this attempt to destroy the Union. The Te Deums so recently chanted to rebellion upon a high key by the sweet singers of secession, are no longer within the compass of their voices, and they are evidently about to lower their tones, or, in military as well as musical phrase, effect a "change of bass." As spring opens we shall see many who have boasted of their designation of copperhead crawling quietly out their political snakeskins, and taking sides with the loyal masses in crushing forever the rebellion. Let us, then, be of good cheer and of unfaltering purpose, and God will enable the seed of the woman not only to bruise, but to sever the head of this political serpent, rebellion, that has wound its scaly folds into our political Eden, and thus preserve our cherished Union for all coming generations.

Sincerely yours,

D. S. DICKINSON.

Messrs. H. S. WALBRIDGE and others, committee, &c.

MR. DICKINSON TO MRS. JAMES.

ALBANY, March 14, 1863.

MY DEAR COUSIN-I am glad that

you threatened me with

an infliction, and delighted that you carried your purpose into execution. Please persecute me much oftener in this way.

I am yet here, all alone, in this cheerless city, and Mrs. D. is in New York. I go down to see her quite often. I am flattered that you like your cousin's way of talking. You are good judges, and if you approve the crude reports I think you would like them better still as they should be. I seldom see the reporter's notes, hence many laughable and some provoking errors. In my late speech in New York, at the Washington supper, I spoke of the Empire State in the constellation as apparent queen," and the reporter made me say, "one parent queen." Classical, was it not? In remembering me to your mother, tell her I have just closed a letter to Toledo on public affairs, in which I draw a line between true and false Democracy, and I will send her a copy when it gets into print.

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I expect to meet the judge at Johnstown, where I am engaged to prosecute a murder trial. I almost expect you to be with him, but not quite, because of the season. All would send love if they knew of my writing. Be pleased to remem ber me to the judge, your mother, sister, and all family friends, and believe me

Your affectionate cousin,

D. S. DICKINSON.

MR. DICKINSON TO MRS. YALE.

ALBANY, March 31, 1863.

MY DEAR DELIA-You may remember, when I thus address you, that I see you as in 1821, with your bright, genial, girlish face and laughing eyes, and that though my own hair is whitened with years, which was then brown in boyhood, I cannot make you seem to my mind's eye other than you were when last I saw you; so I call you "Delia," as I was wont to then.

Your good letters to Mrs. Dickinson and myself came in due season, and I sent them to her, and have since seen her and learned that she was delighted in the perusal of them. Her health is yet delicate, and she remains in New York.

Last week I spent in Connecticut, speaking against the VOL. II.-39

copperheads" in the election campaign, where they have a very severe conflict. I spoke from one to two hours and a quarter, six evenings in succession; travelling from one to two hundred miles each day, between points where I was to speak. I came home, staid one day, and then went post-haste to Washington; did business there, and here I am again, as hard at work as ever.

I am pleased with the interest you feel in our little boys. We call them sons, and they call me "father," and Mrs. D. "mother," and their own mother "mamma." I send you a note I received from one of them, who is twelve years of age.

You were right in thinking I went to Massachusetts when I left Wheatland, and I had spent considerable time there previously, but it was on business for my uncle at Caledonia, and when that was closed up I returned to Guilford, N. Y.

I will send you a speech made at Hartford, Conn. I think I am not what you term with great significance a "dry speaker," and, unlike the one you mentioned, never use water while speaking, as it injures instead of benefiting the throat.

I hope to see you and renew our acquaintance, and bring you and Mrs. Dickinson together, when I am sure you will love each other. Commend me kindly to those who are near and dear to you, and remember with kindly affection your former, present, and ever

Sincere friend,

D. S. DICKINSON.

MR. DICKINSON TO D. S. DICKINSON, JR.

ALBANY, April, 1863.

MY DEAR STEPHIE-I have been away so much and so busy when here, that I have not had time to answer your kind letter. I have been in Connecticut, making speeches; and to Washington, where I was present at the Indian talk described in the paper I sent you. The speeches are not fully reported. The "Lean Bear" said, when he shook hands with the President, "he did not take hold of his hand only a little, he took hold of his body all over." I stood near where they sat. When the President spoke, and the interpreter told them what