nerations must live
and die before America sees unbroken peace again.

* * * * *

While the war goes on, the contrabands go off. A writer in the Norfolk
_Day Book_ complains that slaves are escaping from that city in great
numbers, asserting that they get away through the instrumentality of
_secret societies_ in Norfolk, which hold their meetings weekly, and in
open day. No one can doubt that this war is clearing the Border of its
black chattels in double-quick time. Why not strike boldly, and secure
it by offering to pay all its loyal slave-holders for their property? Of
one thing, let the country rest assured--the friends of Emancipation
will not brook much longer delay. It MUST and SHALL be carried
through,--_and we are strong enough to do it_.

* * * * *

Thurlow Weed grows apace, and occasionally writes a good thing from
London--as, for instance, in the following:--

At breakfast, a few days since, a distinguished member of
Parliament, who has been much in America, remarked, with emphasis,
that he had formerly entertained a high opinion of 'JUDGE LYNCH,'
looking with much favor upon that species of impromptu
jurisprudence known as 'Lynch law,' but since it failed to hang
FLOYD, COBB and THOMPSON, of BUCHANAN'S cabinet, he had ignored
and was disgusted with the system.

What would the distinguished member have said had he been familiar with
the Catiline steamer case, the mysteries of shoddy contracts, the
outfitting of the Burnside expedition, and innumerable other
rascalities? The gentleman was right,--Lynch law has proved a failure;
and, if we err not, another kind of law has of late months been not very
far behind it in inefficiency. Our Southern foes have at least one noble
trait--they hang their rascals.

* * * * *

'_Non dum_,' 'not yet,' was the motto of a great king, who, when the
time came, shook Europe with his victories. 'Not yet,' says the
Christian, struggling through trial and temptation towards the peace
which passeth understanding and a heavenly crown. 'Not yet,' says the
brave reformer, fighting through lies and petty malice, and all the
meanness of foes lying in wait, ere he can convince the world that he is
in the right. 'Not yet,' says the soldier, as he marches his weary
round, waiting to be relieved, and musing on the battle and the war for
which he has pledged