teemed with fresh proofs of its utility and its blessings; and although our territory has stretched out wider and wider, and our population spread farther and farther, they have not outrun its protection or its benefits. It has been to us all a copious fountain of national, social, and personal happiness.

I have not allowed myself, sir, to look beyond the Union, to see what might lie hidden in the dark recess behind. I have not coolly weighed the chances of preserving liberty when the bonds that unite us together shall be broken asunder. I have not accustomed myself to hang over the precipice of disunion, to see whether, with my short sight, I can fathom the depth of the abyss below; nor could I regard him as a safe counsellor in the affairs of this government, whose thoughts should be mainly bent on considering, not how the Union may be best preserved, but how tolerable might be the condition of the people when it should be broken up and destroyed.

God

While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, gratifying prospects spread out before us, for us and our children. Beyond that I seek not to penetrate the veil. God grant that, in my day at least, that curtain may not rise! grant that on my vision never may be opened what lies behind! When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glorious Union; on States dissevered, discordant, belligerent; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood! Let their last feeble and lingering glance, rather, behold the gorgeous ensign of the Republic, now known and honored throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their original luster, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor a single star obscured, bearing for its motto no such miserable interrogatory as 'What is all this worth?" Nor those other words of delusion and folly,

66

Liberty first, and Union afterward;" but everywhere, spread all over in characters of living light, blazing on all its

ample folds as they float over the sea and over the land, and in every wind under the whole heavens, that other sentiment dear to every true American heart-Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable!

THE SOLDIER OF THE EMPIRE

(Abridged.)

BY THOMAS NELSON PAGE, Lawyer, Poet, Story-writer. Born in Oakland, Va., 1853.

Taken, by permission of the publishers, from " Elsket and Other Stories," copyright, 1891, by Charles Scribner's Sons, New York.

66

It was his greatest pride in life that he had been a soldier -a soldier of the empire. He was known simply as The Soldier," and it is probable there was not a man, and certain that there was not a child in the Quarter who did not know the tall, erect old Sergeant with his white mustache, and his face seamed with two saber cuts.

Yes, they all knew him, and knew how, when he was not over thirteen, he had received the cross which he always wore over his heart, sewed in the breast of his coat, from the hand

66

of the emperor himself. He was the Sergeant, a soldier of the empire, and there was not a dog in the Quarter which did not feel and look proud when it could trot on the inside of the sidewalk by him.

Pierre, his son, was not popular in the Quarter. He was nineteen years old when war was declared with Prussia. All Paris was in an uproar. Of all the residents of the Quarter, none took a deeper interest than the soldier of the empire. The war began in earnest. The troops were sent to the front, the crowds shouting On to Berlin.' Nearly all the young men had enlisted and gone. Pierre, however, still remained behind.

66

Suddenly the levy came. Pierre was conscripted.

That night the Sergeant enlisted in the same company. The day they were mustered in, the captain of the com

pany sent for him and bade him have the first sergeant's chevrons sewed on his sleeve.

The army lay still and no battles were fought. Thus it was for several weeks, but at last one evening, it was apparent that some change was at hand, and the army stirred. It was high time. The Prussians were almost on them, and

had them in a trap. At length they marched.

The Sergeant saw once more the field of glory and heard again the shout of victory; he beheld the tricolor floating over the capitol of the enemies of France. Perhaps it would be planted there by Pierre-Ha! France would ring with Pierre's name; the Quarter should go wild with delight.

Just then the skirmishers ahead began to fire, and in a few moments it was answered by a sullen note from the villages beyond the plain, and the battle had begun. The fire was

terrific.

Suddenly an officer galloped up, and spoke to the lieuten

"Forever.' And he galloped off.

His voice was heard clear and ringing in a sudden lull, and the old Sergeant, clutching his musket, shouted:

"We will, forever."

There was a momentary lull.

Suddenly the cry was:

"Here they are.

In an instant a dark line of men appeared coming up the slope. The Lieutenant of the company, looking along the line, called the Sergeant, and ordered him to go back down

the hill and tell the General to send them a support instantly or they could not hold the hill much longer. He delivered his message.

66

'Go back and tell him he must hold it, was the reply. Upon it depends the fate of France. Hold it for France!"' he called after him.

The words were heard perfectly clear even above the din of battle which was steadily increasing all along the line, and they stirred the old soldier like a trumpet. He pushed back up the hill with a run. In his ears rang the words “For France!" They came like an echo from the past; it was the same cry he had heard at Waterloo. "For France!"-the

words were consecrated; the emperor himself had used them. Was it not glorious to die for France!

As it did so, he saw a man in

With these thoughts was mingled the thought of PierrePierre also would die for France. The smoke hid everything. Just then it shifted a little. the uniform of his regiment steal out of the dim line, and start towards him at a run. His cap was pulled over his eyes, and he saw him deliberately fling away his gun. He was skulking. All the blood boiled up in the old soldier's veins. Desert-not fight for France! Why did not Pierre shoot him! Just then the coward passed close to him and the old man seized him with a grip of iron. The deserter, surprised, turned his face; it was pallid with terror and shame; but no more so than his captor's.

66

66

Pierre!" he gasped. Good God! where are you going?"

"I am sick," faltered the other.

"Come back," said the father sternly.

"It is for France, Pierre," pleaded the old soldier pitifully. There was a pause. "Then, dastard!" hissed the father, flinging his son from him with indescribable scorn.

Pierre, free once more, was slinking off with averted face, when a new idea seized the other, and his face grew grim as

stone. Cocking his musket, he took careful and deliberate aim at his son's retreating figure and brought his finger slowly down upon the trigger. But, before he could fire, a shell exploded directly in the line of his aim, and when the smoke blew off Pierre had disappeared. The coward had in the very act of flight met the death he dreaded. The countenance of the living man was more pallid than that of the dead. No word escaped him, except that refrain, “For France, for France!"

The fierce onslaught of the Prussians had broken the line somewhere beyond the batteries, and the French were being borne back. All order was lost. It was a rout. The soldiers of his own regiment began to rush by the spot where the old Sergeant stood above his son's body. They attempted to hurry him along, but raising his voice so that he was heard even above the tumult of the rout, he shouted, "Are ye all cowards? Rally for France-for France!" They tried to bear him along; it was no use; still he shouted that rallying cry, “For France, for France! Vive la France! Vive l'Empereur!" and steadied by the war-cry, accustomed to obey an officer, the men around him fell instinctively into something like order, and for an instant the rout was arrested. The fight was renewed over Pierre's dead body, but the Prussians were too strong for them, they were soon surrounded. There was no thought of quarter; none was asked, none was given. Cries, cheers, shouts, blows were mingled together, and clear above all rang the old soldier's war-cry, "For France, for France! Vive la France! Vive l'Empereur !" It was the refrain from an older and bloodier field. He thought he was at Waterloo. Mad with excitement, the men took up the cry and fought like tigers, but the issue could not be doubtful.

Man after man fell with the cry "For France !" on his lips, and his comrades, standing astride his body, fought till they too fell. Almost the last one was the old Sergeant.

It was best, for France was lost.