Yet, ere we left the hill, we could
not but regret that there is nothing on its barren summit, no relic
of old, nor lettered stone of later days, to assist the imagination
in appealing to the heart. We build the memorial column on the height
which our fathers made sacred with their blood, poured out in a holy
cause. And here, in dark, funereal stone, should rise another
monument, sadly commemorative of the errors of an earlier race, and
not to be cast down, while the human heart has one infirmity that
may result in crime.
THE END
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