The last-named, now resident in Washington, has printed, since his old friend's death, a series of sonnets, from which I quote one: "How many and how great concerns of state Lie at the mercy of the meanest things! This man, the peer of presidents and kings; Nay, first among them, passed through dangers gate In war unscathed, and perils out of date, To meet a fool whose pistol-shot yet rings Around the world, and at mere greatness flings The cruel sneer of destiny or fate! Yet hath he made the fool fanatic foil To valor, patience, nobleness, and wit! Nor had the world known, but because of it, What virtues grow in suffering's sacred soil.
The shot which opened like a crack of hell, Made all hearts stream with sacred pity's well And showed that unity in which we dwell.".