prayed, or, deeper yet, many could only think thanksgiving and weep gladness. That peace was sure; that our government was firmer than ever; that the land was cleansed of plague; that blood was staunched and scowling enmities were sinking like storms beneath the horizon; that the dear fatherland, nothing lost, much gained, was to rise up in unexampled honor among the nations of the earth, all these kindled up such a surge of joy as no words may describe.

In one hour, under the blow of a single bereavement, joy lay without a pulse, without a gleam or breath. A sorrow came that swept through the land as huge storms sweep through the forest and field, rolling thunder along the sky, disheveling the flowers, daunting every singer in thicket or forest, and pouring blackness and darkness across the land and upon the mountains. Did ever so many hearts, in so brief a time, touch two such boundless feelings? It was the uttermost of joy; it was the uttermost of sorrow;-noon and midnight without a space between!

The blow brought not a sharp pang. It was so terrible that at first it stunned sensibility. Citizens were like men awakened at midnight by an earthquake, and bewildered to find everything that they were accustomed to trust wavering and falling. They wandered in the streets as if groping after some impending dread, or undeveloped sorrow. There was a piteous helplessness. Strong men bowed down and wept. Other and common griefs belonged to some one in chief; this belonged to all. It was each and every man's. Every virtuous household in the land felt as if its firstborn were gone. Men were bereaved, and walked for days as if a corpse lay unburied in their dwellings. There was nothing else to think of. They could speak of nothing but that; and yet, of that they could speak only falteringly.

All business was laid aside. Pleasure forgot to smile. The great city for nearly a week ceased to roar. The huge Leviathan lay down and was still. Even avarice stood still, and greed was strangely moved to generous sympathy and universal sorrow. Rear to his name monuments, found charitable institutions, and

write his name above their lintels; but no monument will ever equal the universal, spontaneous, and sublime sorrow that in a moment swept down lines and parties, and covered up animosities, and in an hour brought a divided people into unity of grief and indivisible fellowship of anguish.

This blow was aimed at the life of the government and of the nation. Lincoln was slain; America was meant. The man was cast down; the government was smitten at. It was the President who was killed. It was national life, breathing freedom and meaning beneficence that was sought. He, the man of Illinois, the private man, divested of robes and the insignia of authority, representing nothing but his personal self, might have been hated; but that would not have called forth the murderer's blow. It was because he stood in the place of government, representing government and a government that represented right and liberty, that he was singled out.

The blow, however, signally failed. The cause is not stricken; It is strengthened. This nation has dissolved-but in tears only. It stands, foursquare, more solid, to-day, than any pyramid in Egypt. This people are neither wasted, nor daunted, nor disordered. Men hate slavery and love liberty with stronger hate and love to-day than ever before.

O Illinois, we took from your midst an untried man, and from among the people; we return him to you a mighty conqueror. Not thine any more, but the nation's; not ours, but the world's. Give him place, ye prairies! In the midst of this great continent his dust shall rest, a sacred treasure to myriads who shall make pilgrimage to that shrine to kindle anew their zeal and patriotism. Ye winds, that move over the mighty places of the West, chant his requiem! Ye people, behold a martyr, whose blood, as so many articulate words, pleads for fidelity, for law, for liberty!

You will find the whole of my early life in a single line of "Gray's Elegy," "The short and simple annals of the poor."Abraham Lincoln.

But they may not see him in place
Nor their ranks be seen of him;
We look for the well-known face,
And the splendor is strangely dim.

Perished?-who was it said

Our Leader had passed away?
Dead? Our President dead?
He has not died for a day!

We mourn for a little breath

Such as, late or soon, dust yields;

But the dark flower of Death

Blooms in the fadeless fields.

We looked on a cold, still brow,
But Lincoln could yet survive;
He never was more alive,
Never nearer than now.

For the pleasant season found him,
Guarded by faithful hands,

In the fairest of summer lands;
With his own brave staff around him,

There our President stands.

There they are all at his side,

The noble hearts and true,

That did all men might do

Then slept, with their swords, and died.

Free Territories and Free Men,

Free Pulpits and Free Preachers,

Free Press and a Free Pen,

Free Schools and Free Teachers.

-Lincoln banner during Lincoln-Douglas Debates, 1858.

TO PORTRAIT OF LINCOLN.

RICHARD HENRY STODDARD.

[Let pupil point to portrait of Lincoln on platform as he recites poem.]

HIS man whose homely face you look upon,

THIS

Was one

of nature's masterful, great men;

Born with strong arms that unfought battles won,

Direct of speech, and cunning with the pen.
Chosen for large designs, he had the art

Of winning with his humor, and he went
Straight to his mark, which was the human heart;
Wise, too, for what he could not break he bent.
Upon his back a more than Atlas-load,

The burden of the commonwealth, was laid;
He stooped, and rose up with it, though the road
Shot suddenly downwards, not a whit dismayed.
Hold, warriors, councilors, kings! All now .give place
To this dead benefactor of the race!

O

BRING LAUREL.

S. B. DUNN.

NCE more bring laurel for dear Lincoln's brow;
Burn incense to the day that gave him birth;

Pay grateful tribute to immortal worth;

But more to Him who did such clay endow.

No portent flamed in heaven to mark the place
On earth where Lincoln cradled lay;

And yet 'neath lowly roof was born that day
The Union's savior and ransom of a race.