interests, and thus to overcome that repugnance natural to the defeated, to accept without reserve that which comes from the hand of a victorious opponent.
But if those requirements be not filled by either, then the creation of a third, a new party, would be needed—a party composed of those elements of both the old which, according to their tendencies and aims, belong together; of men who, in good faith and without reserve, pledge themselves to maintain the existing order of things, and to develop it by a progressive and reformatory policy for the common good. Such a new organization would have this great advantage: Not having, as such, been a party to past conflicts on either side, it would, as an organization, have no record to explain or defend; it would be embarrassed by no traditions, and address itself at once to living questions; it would stand solely upon the merits of its present purposes; in furtherance of these purposes, old opponents would meet upon a neutral ground, and its success would neither furnish the least encouragement to reactionary desires on one side, nor would it, on the other, in working upon public opinion, have to overcome the traditional animosities prevailing between the old parties.
Now, apply this to our present situation. The Democratic party in some of the Northern States, appreciating the utter impossibility of success with a profession of faith like its last National platform, has resolved to take a new departure, by recognizing the Constitutional amendments embodying the results of the war. In a speech recently delivered in Chicago I greeted this movement as a favorable sign of the times; but I expressed also the opinion that inherent difficulties would stand in the way of its success as a party movement. But, instead of repeating my own words, I will quote those of a writer who recently addressed a communication to the New Orleans
