of the allies of England. We see the flames climb 'round the happy homes, and in the charred and blackened ruins we see the mutilated bodies of women and children.

Peace came at last, crowned with the victory of New Orleans a victory that "did redeem all sorrows" and all defeats.

The Revolution gave our fathers a free land-the war of 1812 a free sea.

To-day we remember the gallant men who bore our flag in triumph from the Rio Grande to the heights of Chapultepec.

Leaving out of the question the justice of our causethe necessity for war-we are yet compelled to applaud the marvelous courage of our troops. A handful of men -brave, impetuous, determined, irresistable-conquered a nation. Our history has no record of more daring deeds.

Capital and Labor.

Here in the United States man at last is free; here man makes the laws and all have an equal voice. The rich cannot oppress the poor, the poor are in a majority; the laboring men, those who in some way work for their living, can elect every Congressman and every Judge; they can make and interpret the laws, and if labor is oppressed in the United States by capital, labor is simply itself to blame, The cry is now raised that capital, in some mysterious way, oppresses industry; that the capitalist is the enemy of the man who labors.

Every man who has good health is a capitalist; every one with good sense, every one who has had his dinner and has enough left for supper, is to that extent a capitalist. Every man with a good character, who has the credit to borrow a dollar or to buy a meal is a capitalist; and nine out of ten of the capitalists in the United States are simply successful workingmen. There is no conflict, and can be no conflict, in the United States between capital and labor, and the men who endeavor to excite the envy of the unfortunate, the malice of the poor, such men are the enemies of law and order.

As a rule wealth is the result of industry, economy, attention to business, and, as a rule, poverty is the result of idleness, extravagance, and inattention to business, though to these rules there are thousands of exceptions. The man who has wasted his time, who has thrown away his opportunities, is apt to envy the man who has not. For instance, here are six shoemakers working in one shop. One of them attends to his business; you can hear the music of his hammer late and early; he is in

love, it may be, with a girl on the next street; he has made up his mind to be a man; to succeed, to make somebody else happy, to have a home; and while he is working, in his imagination, he can see his own fireside with the light falling upon fhe faces of wife and child.

The next thing you know he is married, and he has built him a house, and he is happy, and his dream has been realized.

After awhile the same five shoemakers, having pursued the old course, stand on the corner some Sunday when he rides by.

He has got a carriage; his wife sits by his side, her face covered with smiles, and they have got two children, their faces beaming with joy, and the blue ribbons fluttering in the wind. And thereupon these five shoemakers adjourned to some neighboring saloon and passed a resolution that there is an irrepressible conflict between capital and labor.

There is, in fact no such conflict, and the laboring men of the United States have the power to protect themselves. In the ballot-box, the vote of Lazarus is on an equality with that of Dives; the vote of a wandering pauper counts the same as a millionaire. In a land where the poor, where the laboring men have the right and have the power to make the laws, and do in fact make the laws, certainly there should be no complaint.

In our country the people hold the power, and if any corporation in any State is devouring the substance of the people. every Stare has retained the power of eminent domain under which it can confiscate the property

and franchise of any corporation by simply paying to that corporation what such property is worth. And yet thousands of people are talking as though there existed a wide-spread conspiracy against industry, against honest toil, and thousands and thousands of speeches have been made and numberless articles have been written to fill the breasts of the unfortunate with hatred.

Oration at a Child's Grave.

In a remote corner of the Congressional Cemetery in Washington, D. C., a small group of people with uncovered heads were ranged around a newly-made grave. They included Detective and Mrs. George O. Miller and family and friends, who had gathered to witness the burial of the former's bright little son Harry, a recent victim of diphtheria.

As the casket rested upon the trestles there was a painful pause, broken only by the mother's sobs, until the un

dertaker advanced toward a stout, florid-complexioned gentleman in the party and whispered to him, the words being inaudible to the lookers on.

This gentleman was Col. Robert G. Ingersoll, a friend of the Millers, who had attended the funeral at their request. He shook his head when the undertaker first addressed him, and then said suddenly, "Does Mrs. Miller desire it?"

The undertakea gave an affirmative nod. Mr. Miller looked appealingly toward the distinguished orator, and then Col. Ingersoll advanced to the side of the grave, made a motion denoting a desire for silence, and in a voice of exquisite cadence, deliveled one of his characteristic eulogies for the dead. The scene was intensely dramatic. A fine drizzling rain was falling, and every head was bent, and every ear turned to catch the impassioned words of eloquence and hope that fell from the lips of the speaker.

Col. Ingersoll was unprotected by either hat or umbrella, and his invocation thrilled his hearers with awe; each eye that had previously been bedimmed with tears brightening and sobs becoming hushed. The Colonel said:

MY FRIENDS: I know how vain it is to gild a grief with words, and yet I wish to take from every grave its fear. Here in this world. where life and death are equal kings, all should be brave enough to meet what all have met. The future has been filled with fear, stained and polluted by the heartless past. From the wondrous tree of life the buds and blossoms fall with ripened fruit, and in the common bed of earth patriarchs and babes sleep side by side. Why should we fear that which will come