he firmest faith in
Mr. Trollope's honesty. We know he has written nothing that he does not
conscientiously believe, and he has given unmistakable evidence of his
good-will to this country. We are lost in amazement when he tells us: 'I
know I shall never again be at Boston, and that I have said that about
the Americans which would make me unwelcome as a guest if I were
there.' Said what? We should be thin-skinned, indeed, did we take
umbrage at a book written in the spirit of Mr. Trollope's. On the
contrary, the Americans who are interested in it are agreeably
disappointed in the verdict which he has given of them; and though they
may not accept his political opinions, they are sensible enough to
appreciate the right of each man to his honest convictions. Mr.
Trollope, though he sees in our future not two, but three,
confederacies, predicts a great destiny for the North. We can see but a
union of all--a Union cemented by the triumph of freedom in the
abolition of that which has been the taint upon the nation. If Mr.
Trollope's prophecies are fulfilled, (and God forbid!) it will be
because we have allowed the golden hour to escape. Pleased as we are
with Mr. Trollope the writer--who has not failed to appreciate the
self-sacrifice of Northern patriotism--Mr. Trollope the _man_ has a far
greater hold upon our heart; a hold which has been strengthened, rather
than weakened, by his book. The friends of Mr. Trollope extend to him
their cordial greeting, and Boston in particular will offer a hearty
shake of the hand to the writer of _North-America_, whenever he chooses
to take that hand again.

UP AND ACT.

The man who is not convinced, by this time, that the Union has come to
'the bitter need,' must be hard to convince. For more than one year we
have put off doing our _utmost_, and talked incessantly of the 'wants of
the enemy.' We have demonstrated a thousand times that they wanted
quinine and calomel, beef and brandy, with every other comfort, luxury,
and necessary, and have ended by discovering that they have forced every
man into their army; that they have, at all events, abundance of
corn-meal, raised by the negroes whom Northern Conservatism has dreaded
to free; that they are well supplied with arms from Abolition England,
and that every day finds them more and more warlike and inured to war.

Time was, we are told, when a bold, 'radical push' would have prevented
all this. Time was, when those who urged such