But remember, I am no politician, and no seer into souls.

I have never seen an adequate description anywhere of the amazement, the uncomprehending horror of the bulk of the American people which preceded the firing of that gun at Sumter. Politicians or far-sighted leaders on both sides knew what was coming. And it is they who have written histories of the war. But to the easy-going millions, busied with their farms or shops, the onrushing disaster was as inexplicable as an earthquake. Their protest arose from sea to sea like the clamor of a gigantic hive of frightened bees.

We don't often look into these unpleasant details of our great struggle. We all prefer to think that every man who wore the blue or gray was a Philip Sidney at heart.

North and South were equally confident that God was on their side, and appealed incessantly to Him.

War may be an armed angel with a mission, but she has the personal habits of the slums.

The only hero known to my childhood was Henry Clay.

It has happened to me to meet many of the men of my day whom the world agreed to call great.