The
Yankees make slow progress in the siege of
Charleston.
Their possession of
Morris Island has thus far been of little service in overcoming the chief obstacles which interpose between them and their coveted prey.
There is an infinite disproportion between the enormous amount of metal they daily expend and the trifling amount of damage they accomplish.
Fort Sumter seems to be hardened and solidified by the prodigious hammering it daily and nightly receives.
And yet
Fort Sumter is only one of a long succession of mighty bulwarks which they will have to overcome before they can reduce the city.
It is possible that they may burn
Charleston to the earth, but they will plant their flag upon its ashes.
They will never be able to convert it into a New Orleans or
Norfolk, and glut their devilish malice by the torture and execution of people whose only crime is that moral and social superiority which adds poison to the venom of base and ignoble natures.
It is better that
Charleston should be burned down than that it should ever fall into Yankee hands.
This is all their vengeance can accomplish, and a few years will more than retrieve this misfortune.
With the establishment of Southern independence the fair seaport of the
Palmetto State will rise from the dust and surpass its former prosperity and glory.
It will be a thriving mart of trade and commerce, whilst grass is growing in the streets of New York and
Boston.
The sceptre of the
Western Hemisphere is passing forever from Yankee hands, and all the powder and lead they are wasting in Southern harbors can never prevent that inevitable result.
