lainer than that,--the axioms of right itself. He did more
than any other man to make actual that awful picture of the Great
Leviathan, the Mortal God. How just, how true, were those last symbols
of the State founded on mortal power! The end of the dread conflict of
battle is the same as the end of the equally dreadful issue of the
Court.

But those he served themselves with the sword cut the knot he so
securely tied; his own State was tearing off the poisoned robe in the
very hour in which he was called before the Judge of all. America stood
forth once more the same she was when the old man was a boy. The work
which he had watched for years and generations, the work of evil to
which all the art of man and the power of the State had been
subservient, that work which he sought to finish with the fatal decree
of his august bench, one cannon-shot shattered forever.

He is dead. Slavery is dying. The destiny of the country is in the hand
of the Eternal Lord.

THE MANTLE OF ST. JOHN DE MATHA

A LEGEND OF "THE RED, WHITE, AND BLUE," A.D. 1154-1864

A strong and mighty Angel,
Calm, terrible, and bright,
The cross in blended red and blue
Upon his mantle white!

Two captives by him kneeling,
Each on his broken chain,
Sang praise to God who raiseth
The dead to life again!

Dropping his cross-wrought mantle,
"Wear this," the Angel said;
"Take thou, O Freedom's priest, its sign,--
The white, the blue, and red."

Then rose up John de Matha
In the strength the Lord Christ gave,
And begged through all the land of France
The ransom of the slave.

The gates of tower and castle
Before him open flew,
The drawbridge at his coming fell,
The door-bolt backward drew.

For all men owned his errand,
And paid his righteous tax;
And the hearts of lord and peasant
Were in his hands as wax.

At last, outbound from Tunis,
His bark her anchor weighed,
Freighted with seven score Christian souls
Whose ransom he had paid.

But, torn by Paynim hatred,
Her sails in tatters hung;
And on the wild waves, rudderless,
A shattered hulk she swung.

"God save us!" cried the captain,
"For nought can man avail:
Oh, woe betide the ship that lacks
Her rudder and her sail!

"Behind us are the Moormen;
At sea we sink or strand:
There's de