The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 10, No. 61, November, 1862 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 327 pages of information about The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 10, No. 61, November, 1862.

The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 10, No. 61, November, 1862 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 327 pages of information about The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 10, No. 61, November, 1862.

In conclusion, I would impress upon the young rifleman the importance of always keeping his weapon in perfect order.  If you have never looked through the barrel of a rifle, you can have no conception what a beautifully finished instrument it is; and when you learn that the accuracy of its shooting may be affected by a variation of the thousandth part of an inch on its interior surface, you may appreciate the necessity of guarding against the intrusion of even a speck of rust.  Never suffer your rifle to be laid aside after use till it has been thoroughly cleaned,—­the barrel wiped first with a wet rag, (cotton-flannel is best,) then rubbed dry, then well oiled, and then again wiped with a dry rag.  In England this work may be left to a servant, but with us the servants are so rare to whom such work can be intrusted that the only safe course is to see to it yourself; and if you have a true sportsman’s love for a gun, you will not find the duty a disagreeable one.

* * * * *

THE PRESIDENT’S PROCLAMATION.

In so many arid forms which States incrust themselves with, once in a century, if so often, a poetic act and record occur.  These are the jets of thought into affairs, when, roused by danger or inspired by genius, the political leaders of the day break the else insurmountable routine of class and local legislation, and take a step forward in the direction of catholic and universal interests.  Every step in the history of political liberty is a sally of the human mind into the untried future, and has the interest of genius, and is fruitful in heroic anecdotes.  Liberty is a slow fruit.  It comes, like religion, for short periods, and in rare conditions, as if awaiting a culture of the race which shall make it organic and permanent.  Such moments of expansion in modern history were the Confession of Augsburg, the plantation of America, the English Commonwealth of 1648, the Declaration of American Independence in 1776, the British emancipation of slaves in the West Indies, the passage of the Reform Bill, the repeal of the Corn-Laws, the Magnetic Ocean-Telegraph, though yet imperfect, the passage of the Homestead Bill in the last Congress, and now, eminently, President Lincoln’s Proclamation on the twenty-second of September.  These are acts of great scope, working on a long future, and on permanent interests, and honoring alike those who initiate and those who receive them.  These measures provoke no noisy joy, but are received into a sympathy so deep as to apprise us that mankind are greater and better than we know.  At such times it appears as if a new public were created to greet the new event.  It is as when an orator, having ended the compliments and pleasantries with which he conciliated attention, and having run over the superficial fitness and commodities of the measure he urges, suddenly, lending himself to some happy inspiration, announces with vibrating voice the grand human principles involved,—­the bravoes and wits who greeted him loudly thus far are surprised and overawed:  a new audience is found in the heart of the assembly,—­an audience hitherto passive and unconcerned, now at last so searched and kindled that they come forward, every one a representative of mankind, standing for all nationalities.

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The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 10, No. 61, November, 1862 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.