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Eloquent extract.

The following is a specimen of Southern eloquence from a late speech in the Confederate Senate by the Hon. Gustavus A. Henry, the "eagle orator" from Tennessee; the question being on the joint resolution, introduced by him in the Senate, defining the position of the Confederate States, and the determination of Congress and the people to prosecute the war till their independence is acknowledged:

‘ "Re-union with them? No, sir, never! There is a great gulf that rolls between us. It is a gulf of blood, without a shore and without a bottom, and is as inseparable as that which separated Dives from Lazarus. The mute objects of nature; our desecrated churches and altars; our sweet valleys, drenched in blood and charred by fire, forbid it. The dead would cry out against it from their gory beds. The blood of my own sons, yet unavenged, cries to Heaven from the ground for vengeance. The thousands who are resting red in their graves would awake and utter their solemn protest.--Stonewall Jackson, Polk, Stuart, Rhodes, Morgan, Preston, Smith, and thousands over whose remains a monument to the unknown dead shall be raised, are speaking in tones of thunder against it; and can it be the living only will be dumb? Sir, those who have died in this war are not dead to us.

’ "'E'en in their ashes live their wonted fires.'

"They are, in the light of their example, more valuable than the living.--Their spirits walk abroad and stir the hearts of living men to do or die in the cause of liberty. We cherish their memory. Weeping virgins and devoted mothers shall kneel around their tombs and bedew with their tears the graves where they sleep. Poetry shall embalm their memory and minstrelsy perpetuate their fame forever. We give in charge their name to the sweetest lyre.

"The historic muse, proud of her treasure, shall march with it down to the latest sculpture, who, in turn, shall give bond in stone and ever-during brass to guard them and immortalize her trust. The soldiers who have died in this war are not only enshrined in the innermost core of her heart, but, to the mind's eye, are ever in our sight.

‘ "'On fame's eternal camping ground
Their silent tents are spread;
And glory guards, with solemn round,
The bivouac of the dead.'"

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