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The Tempest Brewing at the North.
Already comes from the North, by every mail, the muttering of the approaching storm – the cry of starving men. Already we see long editorials in their papers, discussing schemes whereby men can be fed who want bread. The want of employment from the stagnation in business and failure in trade, has thrown thousands of men upon their country who don’t know how or where to find food. The terrors of a Northern winter, and the grim aspect of Famine, is staring them in the face. The work has but begun. In a few brief weeks the unknown dread will have become a stern reality. And then, when gaunt and shivering men, women and children shall walk their streets, not alone, or in pairs, but in desperate and savage crowds; and when the shout shall break upon the ear for “bread or blood;” and when there shall be blood, but little bread; when starving labor shall strike the props from under capital; and when, finally, that guilded temple at the North, built up from robbery upon the South, shall fall, and Rapine among the ruins shall supply to the laborer the means of subsistence – then shall they realize our wrongs and our might, and at that day may they call upon God, for he alone will heed them. Our car will be deaf to their solicitations. The debt between us will be cancelled. As two nations we shall shortly face each other – each to guard its own interests. If the North is self-sustaining it will quickly rebound from its fall, and [illegible] on its pathway of prosperity and riches. But should it prove otherwise, terrible will be the retribution they will reap. By their own licentious acts they will have fallen – and they will fall never to rise again, but as a broken, needy and humbled people.
