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held in such affectionate reverence for wisdom and goodness and valor, and for the service he rendered to the country he so devotedly loved, that while we know, in reason, that he had the human limitations of a man, — frailties, errors, — yet the imagination and the heart do so interpose, as to render it difficult for us, looking through the haze of distance and his transfiguring renown, to reduce that majestic personality to the common human proportions, either as to his person or his character.

12. Let an eminent British orator and statesman furnish in one sentence a fit measurement of him, and save us from the extravagance into which we might be carried by our affection and gratitude for one who was the father of his country, and that country our own. “It will be the duty of the historian and sage of all nations," writes Lord Brougham, “ to let no occasion pass of commemorating this illustrious man; and until time shall be no more, will a test of the progress which our race has made in wisdom and virtue be derived from the veneration paid to the immortal name of Washington."



A monument to Hood was erected in Kensal-green near London in 1854. It consists of a large bronze bust of Hood, elevated on a pedestal of red granite. On a slab beneath the bust is his own self-inscribed epitaph, — “ He sang the Song of the Shirt.” A remarkable impulse was given by this song in England to the movement on behalf of the distressed needlewomen.

See in Index, DOLOROUS, SEW, HOOD.

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A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread, —

Stitch! stitch! stitch!
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,

And still, with a voice of dolorous pitch, She sang the “ Song of the Shirt.”

“Work! work! work !
While the cock is crowing aloof!

And work — work — work,
Till the stars shine through the roof!
It's O! to be a slave

Along with the barbarous Turk,
Where woman has never a soul to save,
If this is Christian work!

“Work — work — work,
Till the brain begins so swim,

Work — work — work,
Till the eyes are heavy and dim !

Seam, and gusset, and band,
Band, and gusset, and seam,

Till over the buttons I fall asleep,
And sew them on in a dream !


“O, men, with sisters dear!

O, men, with mothers and wives !
It is not linen you ’re wearing out,
But human creatures' lives !

Stitch - stitch - stitch,
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
Sewing at once, with a double thread,
A shroud as well as a shirt.

“But why do I talk of death,

That phantom of grisly bone, I hardly fear his terrible shape,

It seems so like my own

It seems so like my own,

Because of the fasts I keep,
O God! that bread should be so dear,

And flesh and blood so cheap!


“ Work — work — work ! My labor never flags; And what are its wages ? A bed of straw,

A crust of bread, and rags, –
That shattered roof — and this naked floor —

A table - a broken chair -
And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank

For sometimes falling there !


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“ Work — work — work ! From weary chime to chime !

Work — work — work,
As prisoners work for crime !

Band, and gusset, and seam,

Seam, and gusset, and band, Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed, As well as the weary hand.

“ Work — work — work !
In the dull December light,

And work — work — work,
When the weather is warm and bright -
While underneath the eaves

The brooding swallows cling,
As if to show me their sunny backs,
And twit me with the Spring.

“O! but to breathe the breath :

Of the cowslip and primrose sweet — With the sky above my head

And the grass beneath my feet! For only one short hour

To feel as I used to feel,

Before I knew the woes of want,

And the walk that costs a meal !

“O! but for one short hour

A respite, however brief !
No blessëd leisure for love or hope,

But only time for grief !
A little weeping would ease my heart,

But in their briny bed
My tears must stop, for every drop
Hinders needle and thread!”

With fingers weary and worn,

With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread :-

Stitch ! stitch! stitch !
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch —
Would that its tone could reach the rich ! -

She sang this “ Song of the Shirt.”



The following remarks are from a speech on the proposed amendment of the Constitution, abolishing slavery throughout the United States, delivered in the Senate of the United States, April 8, 1864.


1. MR. PRESIDENT, thus stands the case. There is nothing in the Constitution on which slavery can rest, or find any the least support. Even on the face of that instrument it is an outlaw ; but if we look further into its provisions, we find at least four distinct sources of

power, which, if executed, must render slavery impossible, while the preamble makes them all vital for freedom : first, the power to provide for the common defense and general welfare ; secondly, the power to raise armies and maintain navies ; thirdly, the power to guarantee to every State a republican form of government; and, fourthly, the power to secure liberty to every person restrained without due process of law.

2. But all these provisions are something more than powers; they are duties also. And yet we are constantly and painfully reminded in this chamber that our pending measures against slavery are unconstitutional. Sir, this is an immense mistake. Nothing against slavery can be unconstitutional. It is only hesitation which is unconstitutional.

3. And yet slavery still exists, — in defiance of all these requirements of the Constitution; nay, more, in defiance of reason and justice, which can never be disobeyed with impunity, — it exists, the perpetual spoiler of human rights and disturber of the public peace, degrading master as well as slave, corrupting society, weakening government, impoverishing the very soil itself, and impairing the natural resources of the country. Such an outrage, so offensive in every respect, not only to the Constitution, but also to the whole system of order by which the universe is governed, is plainly a national nuisance, which for the general welfare, and in the name of justice, ought to be abated.

4. But at this moment, when it menaces the national life, it will not be enough to treat slavery merely as a nuisance ; for it is much more. It is a public enemy and traitor wherever it shows itself, — to be subdued, in the discharge of solemn guarantees of government and of personal rights, and in the exercise of unquestionable and indefeasible rights of self-defense. All now admit that in the rebel States it is a public enemy

ber of the ofrupting very soil

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