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of soldiers, colonel, captain, corporal, privates, powder-monkeys, and
all, marching in admirable order over hill and dale to the wars,
against their wills, ay, against their common sense and consciences,
which makes it very steep marching indeed, and produces a
palpitation of the heart. They have no doubt that it is a damnable
business in which they are concerned; they are all peaceably inclined.
Now, what are they? Men at all? or small movable forts and
magazines, at the service of some unscrupulous man in power? Visit the
Navy-Yard, and behold a marine, such a man as an American government
can make, or such as it can make a man with its black arts- a mere
shadow and reminiscence of humanity, a man laid out alive and
standing, and already, as one may say, buried under arms with
funeral accompaniments, though it may be,

        "Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,

          As his corse to the rampart we hurried;

        Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot

          O'er the grave where our hero we buried."