within, and thus tumult replied to tumult. On the roof of a great hotel, not far away, a battery of cannon volleyed and thundered; the multitudinous wave of sound spread through the city, its streets and lanes, and drifted far over Lake Michigan, telling the world that Lincoln, the beloved, the great, grand man, scarce known outside of his own republic, was nominated. And in this way, the son of Thomas Lincoln, the backwoodsman, stepped out upon the mighty stage on which was to be enacted one of the most tremendous tragedies the world has

ever seen.

The convention adjourned for an hour, and later in the day Hannibal Hamlin, of Maine, was nominated for Vice-President with Lincoln. At home, in Springfield, Lincoln waited in a newspaper office, surrounded by friends, for the news that should make him the national candidate of his party, or place him on the retired list of American politicians. At last, a messenger, bearing the fateful message in his hand, came in from the telegraph office, with difficulty keeping his face from showing his inward excitement. With great solemnity, he advanced to Lincoln's side and said: "The convention has made a nomination, and Seward is the second man on the list." Then jumping on a table, he cried: "Three cheers for Abraham Lincoln, the next President of the United States!" We can imagine with what a hearty good-will those cheers were given, and how the notes thereof rang out in the streets of Springfield and were echoed far and wide. After shaking hands with his friends and receiving their

fervent congratulations, Lincoln pocketed the telegram, and, saying "There is a little woman on Eighth Street who would like to hear about this," walked home to tell the news to his household.

It was the duty of the convention to give Lincoln formal and official notice of his nomination. A committee, with Mr. George Ashmun, of Massachusetts, at its head, was accordingly appointed to wait upon the nominee and serve him with the usual notice. Meantime, however, the citizens of Springfield had fired a salute of one hundred guns to speak their joy over the nomination of one who was undoubtedly their popular idol. Then a vast concourse of the people streamed up the street where Lincoln's humble cottage stood, and invaded the hospitable home, as many as could crowd in, eager to take his hand and tell him how glad they were that this great honor had been laid upon him. Some of his devoted Springfield admirers, thinking that a delegation from the great national convention would expect to receive a more liberal supply of refreshment than the total abstainers of the Lincoln family would be likely to have in the house, sent him a supply of wines for this occasion. These unfamiliar fluids gave Lincoln some uneasiness, and, accepting the advice of another, he sent them to their donors, with a courteous explanation of his inability to use them. He had never offered wines to his friends; he could not do it now. The committee arrived. They drank the health of the President that was to be, in water from the spring.

On the 23d of June, Lincoln wrote a formal letter

accepting the nomination to the Presidency. It was a very short and straightforward document. He accepted the platform of principles laid down by the convention and concluded in the following words:

"Imploring the assistance of Divine Providence, and with due regard to the views and feelings of all who were represented in the convention, to the rights of all the States and Territories and people of the nation, to the inviolability of the Constitution, and the perpetual union, harmony, and prosperity of all, I am most happy to cooperate for the practical success of the principles declared by the convention."

The Presidential canvass of that year was unique in the history of the American Republic. The enthusiasm of the people of the free States broke over all bounds. To use a common Western expression, it swept the country like a prairie fire. The friends of freedom organized semi-military companies, the like of which have appeared in political campaigns since that day. These were called "Wide-awakes,” and, uniformed and carrying torches at night, or bannerets in the daytime, they turned out in vast numbers whenever there was a demonstration by the Republicans; and this was very often. Campaign songs were composed, set to music, and sung all over the North, the rousing choruses being taken up and made as familiar to everybody as household words. The log cabin of the Harrison campaign was brought out to do duty again as a token of the humble origin of the candidate. Rails and railsplitting were popular symbols, and innumerable de

vices were invented to rouse to a still higher pitch the fervor of the Republicans, and to sweep into the onrushing wave the halting and the vacillating.

It must not be understood that there was no opposition to Lincoln. On the contrary, as the election returns showed, there was a very strong opposition; and the leaders of this party manifested their hatred of the Republicans and their candidate by the most violent and abusive language. The terms "Black Republicans," "Negro Lovers," and the like were among the least offensive of the epithets showered upon the members and candidates of the new, aggressive party. Douglas, to the surprise of many of his best friends and followers, took the stump in his own behalf. It had never been the usage for a Presidential candidate to speak in advocacy of his own election, although men had often done this, especially in the West, when they were candidates for less important offices. Many felt that this was a doubtful experiment for Douglas to make; and many said that it showed how desperate was his case. His speeches were designed to prove that he was the only safe candidate before the people, Breckinridge representing the sectionalism of slavery, and Lincoln the sectionalism of anti-slavery; but it appeared that both sections of the country had resolved to have no more experiments. This time the question of slavery extension or slavery limitation was to be settled forever.

Lincoln stayed quietly at home, although he was sometimes well-nigh overwhelmed with visitors from every part of the Union. Some of these came from

idle curiosity; some to put in a good word for themselves, in case the candidate should be chosen and have offices to fill. Others came honestly encouraging the candidate, now widely celebrated and so greatly loved as a man of the people. A handsome room in the State capitol was assigned to Lincoln, and here he received his visitors during the exciting months that intervened between the nomination in June and the election in November. But he made no speeches, and refrained, with his usual wisdom, from making any public demonstration whatever.

When the votes were in, at the end of that famous canvass, it was found that Lincoln had one hundred and eighty of the electoral votes of the States, and 1,866,452 men had voted for him. Breckinridge had seventy-two electoral votes, and he had been the express choice of 847,953 voters. Douglas had twelve electoral votes; his popular vote was 1,375,157. Bell had thirty-nine electoral votes, and a popular vote of 590,631. Lincoln had received a majority of the electoral votes, but it will be noticed that he had not a majority of all the votes of the people, the four candidates in the field having divided the popular votes unusually; but, notwithstanding this, he had the largest popular vote that had been polled, at that time, for any Presidential candidate.

Lincoln took his election with a composure not untinged with sadness. A tremendous responsibility was now certain to be placed upon him. The South had openly and repeatedly declared an intention to break up the Union, by leaving it, in case of the election of the Republican candidate. He was op