There are two or three facts connected with time, besides that already referred to, which strike us very forcibly in their relation to the great events passing around us.  We spoke of the long period seeming to have elapsed since this war began.  The buds were then swelling which held the leaves that are still green.  It seems as old as Time himself.  We cannot fail to observe how the mind brings together the scenes of to-day and those of the old Revolution.  We shut up eighty years into each other like the joints of a pocket-telescope.  When the young men from Middlesex dropped in Baltimore the other day, it seemed to bring Lexington and the other Nineteenth of April close to us.  War has always been the mint in which the world’s history has been coined, and now every day or week or month has a new medal for us.  It was Warren that the first impression bore in the last great coinage; if it is Ellsworth now, the new face hardly seems fresher than the old.  All battle-fields are alike in their main features.  The young fellows who fell in our earlier struggle seemed like old men to us until within these few months; now we remember they were like these fiery youth we are cheering as they go to the fight; it seems as if the grass of our bloody hillside was crimsoned but yesterday, and the cannon-ball imbedded in the church-tower would feel warm, if we laid our hand upon it.

Nay, in this our quickened life we feel that all the battles from earliest time to our own day, where Right and Wrong have grappled, are but one great battle, varied with brief pauses or hasty bivouacs upon the field of conflict.  The issues seem to vary, but it is always a right against a claim, and, however the struggle of the hour may go, a movement onward of the campaign, which uses defeat as well as victory to serve its mighty ends.  The very implements of our warfare change less than we think.  Our bullets and cannonballs have lengthened into bolts like those which whistled out of old arbalests.  Our soldiers fight with weapons, such as are pictured on the walls of Theban tombs, wearing a newly invented head-gear as old as the days of the Pyramids.

Whatever miseries this war brings upon us, it is making us wiser, and, we trust, better.  Wiser, for we are learning our weakness, our narrowness, our selfishness, our ignorance, in lessons of sorrow and shame.  Better, because all that is noble in men and women is demanded by the time, and our people are rising to the standard the time calls for.  For this is the question the hour is putting to each of us:  Are you ready, if need be, to sacrifice all that you have and hope for in this world, that the generations to follow you may inherit a whole country whose natural condition shall be peace, and not a broken province which must live under the perpetual threat, if not in the constant presence, of war and all that war brings with it?  If we are all ready for this sacrifice, battles may be lost, but the campaign and its grand object must be won.