and in that very city whose blood was flowing like water, has God this day given a rendezvous to men of peace, whose wild tumult is transformed into order, and animosity into love.  The stain of blood is blotted out, and in its place beams forth a ray of holy light.  All distinctions are removed, and Papist and Huguenot meet together in friendly communion.  (Loud cheers.) Who that thinks of these amazing changes can doubt of the progress that has been made?  But whoever denies the force of progress must deny God, since progress is the boon of Providence, and emanated from the great Being above.  I feel gratified for the change that has been effected, and, pointing solemnly to the past, I say let this day be ever held memorable—­let the 24th of August, 1572, be remembered only for the purpose of being compared with the 24th of August, 1849; and when we think of the latter, and ponder over the high purpose to which it has been devoted—­the advocacy of the principles of peace—­let us not be so wanting in reliance on Providence as to doubt for one moment of the eventful success of our holy cause.”

The most enthusiastic cheers followed this interesting speech.  A vote of thanks to the government, and three times three cheers, with Mr. Cobden as “fugleman,” ended the great Peace Congress of 1849.

Time for separating had arrived, yet all seemed unwilling to leave the place, where for three days men of all creeds and of no creed had met upon one common platform.  In one sense the meeting was a glorious one—­in another, it was mere child’s play; for the Congress had been restricted to the discussion of certain topics.  They were permitted to dwell on the blessings of peace, but were not allowed to say anything about the very subjects above all others that should have been brought before the Congress.  A French army had invaded Rome and put down the friends of political and religious freedom, yet not a word was said in reference to it.  The fact is, the Committee permitted the Congress to be gagged, before it had met.  They put padlocks upon their own mouths, and handed the keys to the government.  And this was sorely felt by many of the speakers.  Richard Cobden, who had thundered his anathemas against the Corn Laws of his own country, and against wars in every clime, had to sit quiet in his fetters.  Henry Vincent, who can make a louder speech in favour of peace, than almost any other man, and whose denunciations of “all war,” have gained him no little celebrity with peace men, had to confine himself to the blessings of peace.  Oh! how I wished for a Massachusetts atmosphere, a New England Convention platform, with Wendell Phillips as the speaker, before that assembled multitude from all parts of the world.

But the Congress is over, and cannot now be made different; yet it is to be hoped that neither the London Peace Committee, nor any other men having the charge of getting up such another great meeting, will commit such an error again.