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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poets' Lincoln, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Poets' Lincoln
+       Tributes in Verse to the Martyred President
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Osborn H. Oldroyd
+
+Release Date: November 7, 2009 [EBook #30420]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POETS' LINCOLN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by K Nordquist and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: (Frontispiece)
+
+           PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1864]
+
+
+
+
+                                The
+                           Poets' Lincoln
+
+                      TRIBUTES IN VERSE TO THE
+                         MARTYRED PRESIDENT
+
+
+                           _Selected by_
+
+                         OSBORN H. OLDROYD
+
+          AUTHOR OF "THE ASSASSINATION OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN"
+                AND EDITOR OF THE "WORDS OF LINCOLN"
+
+                  _With many portraits of Lincoln,
+                      illustrations of events
+                         in his life, etc._
+
+
+                     PUBLISHED BY THE EDITOR AT
+                   "THE HOUSE WHERE LINCOLN DIED"
+
+                         WASHINGTON, D. C.
+
+                                1915
+
+
+                          Copyright 1915,
+                        by OSBORN H. OLDROYD
+
+
+
+
+ACKNOWLEDGMENT
+
+
+The Editor is most grateful to the various authors who have willingly
+given their consent to the use of their respective poems in the
+compilation of this volume. It has been a somewhat difficult problem,
+not only to select the more appropriate productions, but also to find
+the names of their authors, for in his Lincoln collection there are
+many hundreds of poems which have appeared from time to time in
+magazines, newspapers and other productions, some of which are
+accompanied by more than one name as author of the same poem. In a
+number of instances it has been difficult to ascertain the name of the
+actual owner of the copyright, the poems having been printed in so
+many forms without the copyright mark attached.
+
+The Editor in particular extends his grateful acknowledgment to the
+Houghton Mifflin Company for permission to reprint the "Emancipation
+Group" by John G. Whittier; the "Life Mask" by Richard Watson Gilder;
+"The Hand of Lincoln" by Clarence Stedman; "Commemoration Ode" by
+James Russell Lowell, and the "Gettysburg Address" by Bayard Taylor;
+to Charles Scribner's Sons for two "Lincoln" poems by Richard Henry
+Stoddard; and to the J. B. Lippincott Company for the poem "Lincoln"
+by George Henry Boker.
+
+The Editor is also grateful to Dr. Marion Mills Miller for his
+contribution of the introduction and a poem specially written for the
+collection, and also for assistance in the editorial work.
+
+
+
+
+FOREWORD
+
+
+No great man has ever been spoken of with such tender expressions of
+high regard as has been Abraham Lincoln. Especially is this true of the
+tributes of esteem made by the poets to his memory. It is therefore
+desirable that these should be preserved for future generations, and at
+this time, the fiftieth anniversary of his untimely death, it is
+peculiarly proper that they should be presented to the public.
+
+Although they are chiefly the productions of American authors, quite a
+number are from the pens of appreciative citizens of other countries.
+From the thousand of meritorious poems which have been written about
+Lincoln, the compiler, after serious consideration, has selected those
+within as appearing to be gems; although there were others which he
+would have been glad to include if space permitted.
+
+The poems and illustrations are arranged largely in the chronological
+order of their application to the events in the life of Lincoln. The
+intense sympathy and warm appreciation portrayed therein for our
+Martyred President, as well as their artistic merit assure the poems
+a sacred place in the heart of every patriotic American.
+
+The large number of selected portraits and illustrations of events
+connected with his life, service, death and burial, with brief
+sketches of authors of the following poems, also forms a compilation
+of rich material for all readers of Lincoln literature.
+
+The object in publishing this compilation is to assist in preserving
+the collection of memorials now contained in the house in which
+Lincoln died, 516 Tenth Street, Washington, D. C.
+
+The volume will be sent postpaid by the Editor at the above address,
+upon receipt of its price, $1.00.
+
+                                                  OSBORN H. OLDROYD.
+
+  Washington, D. C., September twelve,
+    Nineteen hundred and fifteen.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                                 PAGE
+  INTRODUCTION--The Poetic Spirit of Lincoln, by Marion Mills
+        Miller .................................................... v
+    MY CHILDHOOD'S HOME I SEE AGAIN, by Abraham Lincoln .......... vi
+    BUT HERE'S AN OBJECT MORE OF DREAD, by Abraham Lincoln ..... viii
+    OH, WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL BE PROUD? By William
+        Knox ..................................................... ix
+    SPEECH AT GETTYSBURG (in verse form), by Abraham Lincoln ... xiii
+    SOLILOQUY OF KING CLAUDIUS, by William Shakespeare ......... xvii
+  LINCOLN, by Julia Ward Howe .................................... 14
+  THE GREAT OAK, by Bennett Chapple .............................. 15
+  LINCOLN, by Noah Davis ......................................... 17
+  THE BIRTH OF LINCOLN, by George W. Crofts ...................... 19
+  MENDELSSOHN, DARWIN, LINCOLN, by Clarence E. Carr .............. 20
+  THE NATAL DAY OF LINCOLN, by James Phinney Baxter .............. 22
+  NANCY HANKS, by Harriet Monroe ................................. 25
+  LINCOLN THE LABORER, by Richard Henry Stoddard ................. 29
+  A PEACEFUL LIFE, by James Whitcomb Riley ....................... 31
+  LEADER OF HIS PEOPLE, by William Wilberforce Newton ............ 32
+  LINCOLN, by Wilbur Hazelton Smith .............................. 35
+  LINCOLN IN HIS OFFICE CHAIR, by James Riley .................... 37
+  THE VOICE OF LINCOLN, by Elizabeth Porter Gould ................ 41
+  THE THOUGHTS OF LINCOLN, by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps ............ 43
+  ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by Richard Watson
+        Gilder ................................................... 45
+  THE HAND OF LINCOLN, by Edmund Clarence Stedman ................ 47
+  HONEST ABE OF THE WEST, by Edmund Clarence Stedman ............. 51
+  PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN, 1860, by William Henry Burleigh ......... 53
+  LINCOLN, 1809--FEBRUARY 12, 1909, by Madison Cawein ............ 56
+  THE MATCHLESS LINCOLN, by Isaac Bassett Choate ................. 59
+  LINCOLN, by Charlotte Becker ................................... 61
+  LINCOLN AT SPRINGFIELD, 1861, by Anna Bache .................... 65
+  LINCOLN CALLED TO THE PRESIDENCY, by Henry Wilson
+        Clendenin ................................................ 70
+  LINCOLN THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE, by Edwin Markham ................ 74
+  LINCOLN, by John Vance Cheney .................................. 76
+  LINCOLN'S CHURCH IN WASHINGTON, by Lyman Whitney Allen ......... 80
+  SONNET IN 1862, by John James Piatt ............................ 83
+  LINCOLN, SOLDIER OF CHRIST, in Macmillan's Magazine ............ 85
+  A CHARACTERIZATION OF LINCOLN, by Hamilton Schuyler ............ 87
+  THE EMANCIPATION GROUP, by John Greenleaf Whittier ............. 91
+  THE LIBERATOR, by Theron Brown ................................. 94
+  TO PRESIDENT LINCOLN, by Edmund Ollier ......................... 96
+  ON FREEDOM'S SUMMIT, by Charles G. Foltz ....................... 98
+  ADDRESS DELIVERED AT THE DEDICATION OF THE CEMETERY AT
+        GETTYSBURG, by Abraham Lincoln .......................... 100
+  GETTYSBURG ODE, by Bayard Taylor .............................. 102
+  LINCOLN'S SECOND INAUGURAL, by Benjamin Franklin Taylor ....... 104
+  OH, PATIENT EYES! by Herman Hagedorn .......................... 107
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by Margaret Elizabeth Sangster ............... 109
+  THE MAN LINCOLN, by Wilbur Dick Nesbit ........................ 113
+  THE MASTER, by Edwin Arlington Robinson ....................... 116
+  LINCOLN, by Harriet Monroe .................................... 119
+  THE EYES OF LINCOLN, by Walt Mason ............................ 121
+  HE LEADS US STILL, by Arthur Guiterman ........................ 123
+  LINCOLN, by S. Weir Mitchell .................................. 125
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by George Alfred Townsend .................... 126
+  LINCOLN, by Paul Lawrence Dunbar .............................. 128
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by Alice Cary ................................ 130
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by Rose Terry Cooke .......................... 132
+  LINCOLN, by Frederick Lucian Hosmer ........................... 134
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by Charles Monroe Dickinson .................. 136
+  SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS! by Robert Leighton ....................... 139
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN FOULLY ASSASSINATED, by Tom Taylor ............ 140
+  THE DEATHBED .................................................. 144
+  LINCOLN AND STANTON, by Marion Mills Miller ................... 146
+  THE HOUSE WHERE LINCOLN DIED, by Robert Mackay ................ 151
+  IN TOKEN OF RESPECT, Translation of Latin Verses .............. 152
+  ENGLAND'S SORROW, from _London Fun_ ........................... 153
+  THE FUNERAL HYMN OF LINCOLN, by Phineas Densmore Gurley ....... 155
+  REST, REST FOR HIM, by Harriet McEwen Kimball ................. 157
+  THE FUNERAL CAR OF LINCOLN, by Richard Henry Stoddard ......... 159
+  THE DEATH OF LINCOLN, by William Cullen Bryant ................ 161
+  ODE, by Henry T. Tuckerman .................................... 163
+  TOLLING, by Lucy Larcom ....................................... 164
+  REQUIEM OF LINCOLN, by Richard Storrs Willis .................. 167
+  REQUIEM, by James Nicoll Johnston ............................. 168
+  SERVICES IN MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by Oliver Wendell
+        Holmes .................................................. 170
+  SPRINGFIELD'S WELCOME TO LINCOLN, by William Allen ............ 173
+  LINCOLN, by Lucy Hamilton Hooper .............................. 175
+  LET THE PRESIDENT SLEEP, by James M. Stewart .................. 179
+  THE CENOTAPH OF LINCOLN, by James Mackay ...................... 181
+  DEDICATION POEM, by James Judson Lord ......................... 183
+  THE GRAVE OF LINCOLN, by Edna Dean Proctor .................... 186
+  COMMEMORATION ODE, by James Russell Lowell .................... 189
+  AN HORATIAN ODE, by Richard Henry Stoddard .................... 193
+  O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! by Walt Whitman ........................ 197
+  ON THE ASSASSINATION OF LINCOLN, by Henry De Garrs ............ 200
+  POETICAL TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN,
+        by Emily J. Bugbee ...................................... 201
+  LINCOLN, 1865, by John Nichol ................................. 204
+  LINCOLN, by Christopher Pearse Cranch ......................... 206
+  LINCOLN, by George Henry Boker ................................ 208
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by Phoebe Cary ............................... 210
+  LINCOLN, by Charles Graham Halpin ("Miles O'Reilly") .......... 215
+  THE MARTYR PRESIDENT .......................................... 219
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by Eugene J. Hall ............................ 220
+  THE TOMB OF LINCOLN, by Samuel Francis Smith .................. 222
+  LINCOLN, by John Townsend Trowbridge .......................... 227
+  HOMAGE DUE TO LINCOLN, by Kinahan Cornwallis .................. 229
+  THE SCOTLAND STATUE, by David K. Watson ....................... 231
+  THE UNFINISHED WORK, by Joseph Fulford Folsom ................. 234
+  ONE OF OUR PRESIDENTS, by Wendell Philips Stafford ............ 236
+  ON A BRONZE MEDAL OF LINCOLN, by Frank Dempster Sherman ....... 239
+  THE GLORY THAT SLUMBERED IN THE GRANITE ROCK,
+        by Ella Wheeler Wilcox .................................. 241
+  THE LINCOLN BOULDER, by Louis Bradford Couch .................. 243
+  WHEN LINCOLN DIED, by James Arthur Edgerton ................... 247
+  HAD LINCOLN LIVED, by Amos Russell Wells ...................... 250
+  LET HIS MONUMENT RISE, by Samuel Green Wheeler Benjamin ....... 253
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+                                                                 PAGE
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1864 ....... _Frontispiece_
+  LINCOLN, from a Bust by Johannes Gelert ........................ iv
+  THE LOG CABIN, Birthplace of Lincoln ........................... 13
+  LINCOLN BY THE CABIN FIRE ...................................... 16
+  MENDELSSOHN, DARWIN, LINCOLN ................................... 20
+  MONUMENT TO THE MOTHER OF LINCOLN .............................. 25
+  THE RAIL SPLITTER .............................................. 28
+  THE BOY LINCOLN, by Eastman Johnson ............................ 30
+  LINCOLN THE LAWYER, from an Ambrotype, 1856 .................... 34
+  LINCOLN'S OFFICE CHAIR ......................................... 36
+  LINCOLN AS A CANDIDATE FOR UNITED STATES SENATOR, from an
+        Ambrotype by Gilmer, 1858 ................................ 40
+  LINCOLN AT THE TIME OF DEBATE WITH DOUGLAS, from an Ambrotype,
+        1858 ..................................................... 42
+  THE LINCOLN LIFE-MASK, by Leonard W. Volk ...................... 44
+  THE HAND OF LINCOLN, a Cast by Leonard W. Volk ................. 46
+  HON. ABRAHAM LINCOLN, REPUBLICAN CANDIDATE FOR THE PRESIDENCY,
+        1860, painted by Hicks ................................... 49
+  THE "WIGWAM," Convention Hall in Chicago, 1860 ................. 50
+  LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT, from an Ambrotype, 1860 .... 52
+  "HONEST ABE," Campaign Cartoon of 1860 ......................... 55
+  LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT, Photograph by Hesler,
+        Chicago, 1860 ............................................ 58
+  LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT, Photograph at
+        Springfield, Ill., 1860 .................................. 60
+  CABIN OF LINCOLN'S PARENTS, on Goose-Nest Prairie, Ill. ........ 62
+  LINCOLN HOMESTEAD, Springfield, Ill., 1861 ..................... 64
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND HIS SECRETARIES, JOHN G. NICOLAY AND
+        JOHN HAY, Photograph at Springfield, Ill., 1861 .......... 67
+  INDEPENDENCE HALL, PHILADELPHIA ................................ 69
+  LINCOLN IN 1858, Photograph by S. M. Fassett, Chicago .......... 71
+  THE CAPITOL, at Second Inauguration of Lincoln ................. 73
+  THE WHITE HOUSE ................................................ 76
+  WHERE LINCOLN WORSHIPPED, New York Avenue Presbyterian Church,
+        Washington, D. C. ........................................ 79
+  LINCOLN IN 1858, Photograph Owned by Stuart Brown,
+        Springfield, Ill. ........................................ 82
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph Autographed for Miss Speed ....... 84
+  LINCOLN IN FEBRUARY, 1860, Photograph by Brady ................. 86
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Gardner ....................... 88
+  EMANCIPATION GROUP, in Park Square, Boston ..................... 90
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1863 ................... 93
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Gardner, 1863 ................. 95
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady ......................... 97
+  LINCOLN AT GETTYSBURG ......................................... 100
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND HIS SON THOMAS ("TAD") .................. 103
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady ........................ 106
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady ........................ 108
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Gardner, 1864 ................ 112
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN AT ANTIETAM ................................. 115
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Gardner, 1864 ................ 118
+  PRESIDENT-ELECT LINCOLN, Photograph at Springfield, Ill.,
+        1861 .................................................... 120
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1862 .................. 122
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1864 .................. 124
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN in Hodgenville, Ky.; Adolph A. Weinman,
+        sculptor ................................................ 126
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1864 .................. 128
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Gardner, 1865 ................ 130
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Gardner, 1865 ................ 132
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1865 .................. 134
+  FORD'S THEATRE, WASHINGTON, D. C. ............................. 138
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN, FOULLY ASSASSINATED,
+        Cartoon in London _Punch_ ............................... 140
+  DEATHBED OF LINCOLN ........................................... 144
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN AND EDWIN M. STANTON .......................... 146
+  DEATH OF LINCOLN .............................................. 149
+  HOUSE IN WHICH LINCOLN DIED ................................... 150
+  JOSEPHINE OLDROYD TIEFENTHALER ................................ 150
+  THE FUNERAL OF LINCOLN, in East Room of White House ........... 154
+  THE FUNERAL CAR ............................................... 158
+  CITY HALL, NEW YORK, N. Y. .................................... 162
+  ROTUNDA, CITY HALL ............................................ 166
+  ST. JAMES HALL, BUFFALO, N. Y. ................................ 168
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1863 .................. 170
+  LINCOLN HOMESTEAD, May 4, 1865 ................................ 172
+  STATE CAPITOL, ILLINOIS, 1865 ................................. 175
+  PUBLIC VAULT, OAK RIDGE CEMETERY, SPRINGFIELD, ILL. ........... 178
+  FACADE OF PUBLIC VAULT ........................................ 180
+  LINCOLN MONUMENT, in Springfield, Ill., Larken G. Mead,
+        Architect ............................................... 182
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, Lincoln Park, Washington, D. C.,
+        Thomas Ball, sculptor ................................... 188
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, by Leonard W. Volk ......................... 192
+  "THE GOOD GRAY POET" (Walt Whitman) ........................... 196
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Washington, D. C.; Lott Flannery,
+        sculptor ................................................ 199
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Muskegon, Mich.; Charles Niehaus,
+        sculptor ................................................ 203
+  LINCOLN AND CABINET ("First Reading of Emancipation
+        Proclamation"), Painted by Frank B. Carpenter ........... 206
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, Randolph
+        Rogers, sculptor ........................................ 208
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1864 .................. 210
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Lincoln Park, Chicago; Augustus Saint
+        Gaudens, sculptor ....................................... 214
+  TABLET AT PHILADELPHIA ........................................ 218
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Rotunda of Capitol; Vinnie Ream,
+        sculptor ................................................ 222
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Lincoln, Neb.; Daniel Chester French,
+        sculptor ................................................ 226
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Burlington, Wis.; George E. Ganiere,
+        sculptor ................................................ 228
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Edinburgh, Scotland; George E. Bissell,
+        sculptor ................................................ 231
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Newark, N. J.; Gutzon Borglum,
+        sculptor ................................................ 234
+  CHILDREN ON THE BORGLUM STATUE ................................ 236
+  HEAD OF LINCOLN, Bronze Medallion in Commemoration of Lincoln
+        Centenary, Struck for the Grand Army of the Republic .... 238
+  MARBLE HEAD OF LINCOLN, in Statuary Hall, Capitol; Gutzon
+        Borglum, sculptor ....................................... 240
+  THE LINCOLN BOULDER, at Nyack, N. Y. .......................... 243
+  BAS-RELIEF HEAD OF LINCOLN, James W. Tuft, sculptor ........... 246
+  A STUDY OF LINCOLN, Painting by Blendon Campbell .............. 249
+  THE LINCOLN MEMORIAL, at Washington, D. C., Henry Bacon,
+        architect ............................................... 252
+
+
+
+
+                       [Illustration: LINCOLN
+
+                  From a bust by Johannes Gelert]
+
+
+
+
+                            INTRODUCTION
+
+                    THE POETIC SPIRIT OF LINCOLN
+
+                       By MARION MILLS MILLER
+
+               (See biographical sketch on page 146)
+
+
+Some years ago, while editing Henry C. Whitney's "Life of Lincoln" I
+showed a photograph of the bust of Lincoln by Johannes Gelert, the most
+intellectual to my mind of all the studies of his face, to a little
+Italian shoeblack, and asked him if he knew who it was. The boy,
+evidently prompted by a recent lesson at school, said questioningly,
+"Whittier?--Longfellow?" I replied, "No, it is Lincoln, the great
+President." He answered, "Well, he looks like a poet, anyway."
+
+This verified a conclusion to which I had already come: Lincoln, had
+he lived in a region of greater culture, such as New England, might
+not have adopted the engrossing pursuits of law and politics, but, as
+did Whittier, have remained longer on the farm and gradually taken up
+the calling of letters, composing verse of much the same order as our
+Yankee bards', and poetry of even higher merit than some produced.
+
+It is not generally known that Lincoln, shortly before he went to
+Congress, wrote verse of a kind to compare favorably with the early
+attempts of American poets such as those named. Thus the two poems of
+his which have been preserved, for his early lampoons on his neighbors
+have happily been lost, are equal in poetic spirit and metrical art to
+Whittier's "The Prisoner for Debt," to which they are strikingly
+similar in melancholic mood.
+
+In 1846, at the age of 37, Lincoln conducted a literary correspondence
+with a friend, William Johnson by name, of like poetic tastes. In
+April of this year he wrote the following letter to Johnson:
+
+
+                                        Tremont, April 18, 1846.
+
+     FRIEND JOHNSTON: Your letter, written some six weeks since,
+     was received in due course, and also the paper with the
+     parody. It is true, as suggested it might be, that I have
+     never seen Poe's "Raven"; and I very well know that a parody
+     is almost entirely dependent for its interest upon the
+     reader's acquaintance with the original. Still there is
+     enough in the polecat, self-considered, to afford one
+     several hearty laughs. I think four or five of the last
+     stanzas are decidedly funny, particularly where Jeremiah
+     "scrubbed and washed, and prayed and fasted."
+
+     I have not your letter now before me; but, from memory, I
+     think you ask me who is the author of the piece I sent you,
+     and that you do so ask as to indicate a slight suspicion
+     that I myself am the author. Beyond all question, I am not
+     the author. I would give all I am worth, and go in debt, to
+     be able to write so fine a piece as I think that is. Neither
+     do I know who is the author. I met it in a straggling form
+     in a newspaper last summer, and I remember to have seen it
+     once before, about fifteen years ago, and this is all I know
+     about it.
+
+     The piece of poetry of my own which I alluded to, I was led
+     to write under the following circumstances. In the fall of
+     1844, thinking I might aid some to carry the State of
+     Indiana for Mr. Clay, I went into the neighborhood in that
+     State in which I was raised, where my mother and only sister
+     were buried, and from which I had been absent about fifteen
+     years.
+
+     That part of the country is, within itself, as unpoetical as
+     any spot of the earth; but still, seeing it and its objects
+     and inhabitants aroused feelings in me which were certainly
+     poetry; though whether my expression of those feelings is
+     poetry is quite another question. When I got to writing,
+     the change of subject divided the thing into four little
+     divisions or cantos, the first only of which I send you now,
+     and may send the others hereafter.
+
+                                    Yours truly,
+                                                      A. LINCOLN.
+
+
+                  My childhood's home I see again,
+                    And sadden with the view;
+                  And still, as memory crowds my brain,
+                    There's pleasure in it too.
+
+                  O Memory! thou midway world
+                    'Twixt earth and paradise,
+                  Where things decayed and loved ones lost
+                    In dreamy shadows rise,
+
+                  And, freed from all that's earthly vile,
+                    Seem hallowed, pure and bright,
+                  Like scenes in some enchanted isle
+                    All bathed in liquid light.
+
+                  As dusky mountains please the eye
+                    When twilight chases day;
+                  As bugle-notes that, passing by,
+                    In distance die away;
+
+                  As leaving some grand waterfall,
+                    We, lingering, list its roar--
+                  So memory will hallow all
+                    We've known but know no more.
+
+                  Near twenty years have passed away
+                    Since here I bid farewell
+                  To woods and fields, and scenes of play,
+                    And playmates loved so well.
+
+                  Where many were, but few remain
+                    Of old familiar things;
+                  But seeing them to mind again
+                    The lost and absent brings.
+
+                  The friends I left that parting day,
+                    How changed, as time has sped!
+                  Young childhood grown, strong manhood gray;
+                    And half of all are dead.
+
+                  I hear the loved survivors tell
+                    How nought from death could save,
+                  Till every sound appears a knell,
+                    And every spot a grave.
+
+                  I range the fields with pensive tread,
+                    And pace the hollow rooms,
+                  And feel (companion of the dead)
+                    I'm living in the tombs.
+
+
+In September he wrote the following letter:
+
+
+                                 Springfield, September 6, 1846.
+
+     FRIEND JOHNSTON: You remember when I wrote you from Tremont
+     last spring, sending you a little canto of what I called
+     poetry, I promised to bore you with another some time. I now
+     fulfil the promise. The subject of the present one is an
+     insane man; his name is Matthew Gentry. He is three years
+     older than I, and when we were boys we went to school
+     together. He was rather a bright lad, and the son of the
+     rich man of a very poor neighborhood. At the age of
+     nineteen he unaccountably became furiously mad, from which
+     condition he gradually settled down into harmless insanity.
+     When, as I told you in my other letter, I visited my old
+     home in the fall of 1844, I found him still lingering in
+     this wretched condition. In my poetizing mood, I could not
+     forget the impression his case made upon me. Here is the
+     result:
+
+
+                  But here's an object more of dread
+                    Than aught the grave contains--
+                  A human form with reason fled,
+                    While wretched life remains.
+
+                  When terror spread, and neighbors ran
+                    Your dangerous strength to bind,
+                  And soon, a howling, crazy man,
+                    Your limbs were fast confined;
+
+                  How then you strove and shrieked aloud,
+                    Your bones and sinews bared;
+                  And fiendish on the gazing crowd
+                    With burning eyeballs glared;
+
+                  And begged and swore, and wept and prayed,
+                    With maniac laughter joined;
+                  How fearful were these signs displayed
+                    By pangs that killed the mind!
+
+                  And when at length the drear and long
+                    Time soothed thy fiercer woes,
+                  How plaintively thy mournful song
+                    Upon the still night rose!
+
+                  I've heard it oft as if I dreamed,
+                    Far distant, sweet and lone,
+                  The funeral dirge it ever seemed
+                    Of reason dead and gone.
+
+                  To drink its strains I've stole away,
+                    All stealthily and still,
+                  Ere yet the rising god of day
+                    Had streaked the eastern hill.
+
+                  Air held her breath; trees with the spell
+                    Seemed sorrowing angels round,
+                  Whose swelling tears in dewdrops fell
+                    Upon the listening ground.
+
+                  But this is past, and naught remains
+                    That raised thee o'er the brute:
+                  Thy piercing shrieks and soothing strains
+                    Are like, forever mute.
+
+                  Now fare thee well! More thou the cause
+                    Than subject now of woe.
+                  All mental pangs by time's kind laws
+                    Hast lost the power to know.
+
+                  O death! thou awe-inspiring prince
+                    That keepst the world in fear,
+                  Why dost thou tear more blest ones hence,
+                    And leave him lingering here?
+
+
+     If I should ever send another, the subject will be a "Bear
+     Hunt."
+
+                               Yours as ever,
+                                                         A. LINCOLN.
+
+
+The poem alluded to in the first letter is undoubtedly "Oh, Why Should
+the Spirit of Mortal Be Proud?", by William Knox, a Scottish poet,
+known to fame only by its authorship. It remained the favorite of
+Lincoln until his death, being frequently alluded to by him in
+conversation with his friends. Because it so aptly presents Lincoln's
+own spirit it is here presented in full. During his Presidency he
+said:
+
+
+    "There is a poem which has been a great favorite with me for
+    years, which was first shown me when a young man by a friend,
+    and which I afterwards saw and cut from a newspaper and
+    learned by heart. I would give a good deal to know who wrote
+    it, but I have never been able to ascertain."
+
+
+Then, half closing his eyes, he repeated the verses:
+
+
+                OH, WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL
+                             BE PROUD?
+
+                         By WILLIAM KNOX.
+
+
+     William Knox was born at Firth, in the parish of
+     Lilliesleaf, in the county of Roxburghshire, on the 17th of
+     August, 1789. From his early youth he composed verses. He
+     merited the attention of Sir Walter Scott, who afforded him
+     pecuniary assistance. He died November 12, 1825, at the age
+     of thirty-six.
+
+
+        Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
+        Like a swift-flitting meteor, a fast-flying cloud,
+        The flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
+        He passes from life to his rest in the grave.
+
+        The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,
+        Be scattered around and together be laid;
+        And the young and the old, and the low and the high
+        Shall molder to dust and together shall lie.
+
+        The infant a mother attended and loved,
+        The mother that infant's affection who proved,
+        The husband that mother and infant who blest,
+        Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest.
+
+        The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye,
+        Shone beauty and pleasure, her triumphs are by;
+        And the mem'ry of those who loved her and praised
+        Are alike from the minds of the living erased.
+
+        The hand of the king that the scepter hath borne,
+        The brow of the priest that the miter hath worn,
+        The eye of the sage and the heart of the brave
+        Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.
+
+        The peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap,
+        The herdsman who climbed with his goats up the steep,
+        The beggar who wandered in search of his bread,
+        Have faded away like the grass that we tread.
+
+        The saint who enjoyed the communion of heaven,
+        The sinner who dared to remain unforgiven,
+        The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just,
+        Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.
+
+        So the multitude goes like the flower or the weed
+        That withers away to let others succeed,
+        So the multitude comes, even those we behold,
+        To repeat every tale that has often been told.
+
+        For we are the same that our fathers have been;
+        We see the same sights our fathers have seen;
+        We drink the same streams, and view the same sun,
+        And run the same course our fathers have run.
+
+        The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think,
+        From the death we are shrinking our fathers would shrink;
+        To the life we are clinging they also would cling,
+        But it speeds from us all like a bird on the wing.
+
+        They loved, but the story we cannot unfold;
+        They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold;
+        They grieved, but no wail from their slumber will come;
+        They joyed, but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.
+
+        They died, ay, they died. We things that are now,
+        That walk on the turf that lies over their brow,
+        And make in their dwellings a transient abode,
+        Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.
+
+        Yea, hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,
+        Are mingled together in sunshine and rain:
+        And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge,
+        Still follow each other like surge upon surge.
+
+        'Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath,
+        From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,
+        From the gilded salon to the bier and the shroud,--
+        Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
+
+
+"The Last Leaf," by Oliver Wendell Holmes, was also a favorite poem of
+Lincoln, says Henry C. Whitney, his friend and biographer (in his
+"Life of Lincoln," Vol. I, page 238):
+
+"Over and over again I have heard him repeat:
+
+
+                  The mossy marbles rest
+                  On the lips that he has prest
+                      In their bloom;
+                  And the names he loved to hear
+                  Have been carved for many a year
+                      On the tomb.
+
+
+and tears would come unbidden to his eyes, probably at thought of the
+grave (his mother's) at Gentryville, or that in the bend of the
+Sangamo" (of Ann Rutledge, his first love, who died shortly before the
+time set for their wedding, and whose memory Lincoln ever kept
+sacred).
+
+While Lincoln, so far as can be ascertained, wrote nothing in verse
+after 1846, he developed in his speeches a literary style which is
+poetical in the highest sense of that term. More than all American
+statesmen his utterances and writings possess that classic quality
+whose supreme expression is found in Greek literature. This is because
+Lincoln had an essentially Hellenic mind. First of all the
+architecture of his thought was that of the Greek masters, who,
+whether as Phidias they built the Parthenon to crown with harmonious
+beauty the Acropolis, or as Homer they recorded in swelling narrative
+from its dramatic beginning the strife of the Achaeans before Troy, or
+even as Euclid, they developed from postulates the relations of space,
+had a deep insight into the order in which mother nature was striving
+to express herself, and a reverent impulse to aid her in bodying forth
+according to her methods the ideal forms of the cosmos, the world of
+beauty, no less within the soul of man than without it, which was
+intended by such help to be realized as a whole in the infinity of
+time, and in part in the vision of every true workman. In short,
+Lincoln had a profound sense of the fitness of things, that which
+Aristotle, the scientific analyst of human thought and the philosopher
+of its proper expression, called "poetic justice." He strove to make
+his reasoning processes strictly logical, and to this end carried with
+him as he rode the legal circuit not law-books, but a copy of Euclid's
+geometry, and passed his time on the way demonstrating to his drivers
+the theorems therein proposed. "Demonstrate" he said he considered to
+be the greatest word in the English language. He constructed every one
+of his later speeches on the plan of a Euclidean solution. His Cooper
+Union speech on "Slavery as the Fathers Viewed It," which contributed
+so largely to his Presidential nomination, was such a demonstration,
+settling what was thereafter never attempted to be controverted: his
+contention that the makers of the Constitution merely tolerated
+property in human flesh and blood as a primitive and passing phase of
+civilization, and never intended that it should be perpetuated by the
+charter of the Republic.
+
+So, too, the Gettysburg speech, brief as it is, is the statement of a
+thesis, the principles upon which the Fathers founded the nation, and
+of the heroic demonstration of the same by the soldiers fallen on the
+field, and the addition of a moral corollary of this, the high resolve
+of the living to prosecute the work until the vision of the Fathers
+was realized.
+
+In substance of thought and in form of its presentation the speech is
+as perfect a poem as ever was written, and even in the minor qualities
+of artistic language--rhythm and cadence, phonetic euphony, rhetorical
+symbolism, and that subtle reminiscence of a great literary and
+spiritual inheritance, the Bible, which stands to us as Homer did to
+the ancients--it excels the finest gem to be found in poetic cabinets
+from the Greek Anthology downward. Only because it was not written in
+the typography of verse, with capitalized and paragraphed initial
+words at the beginning of each thought-group of words, has it failed
+of recognition as a poem by academic minds. Had Walt Whitman composed
+the address, and printed it in the above manner, it would now appear
+in every anthology of poetry published since its date. To convince of
+this those conventional people who must have an ocular demonstration
+of form in order to compare the address with accepted examples of
+poetry, I will dare to incur the condemnation of those who rightly
+look upon such a departure from Lincoln's own manner of writing the
+speech as profanation, and present it in the shape of _vers libre_.
+For the latter class of readers this, the greatest poem by Lincoln,
+the greatest, indeed, yet produced in America, may be preferably read
+in the original form on page 100 of this collection. I trust that
+these, especially if they are teachers of literature, will pardon, for
+the sake of others less cultivated in poetic taste, what may appear a
+duplication here, unnecessary to themselves, of the address.
+
+
+                        SPEECH AT GETTYSBURG
+
+                         By ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+             Four score and seven years ago
+             Our fathers brought forth on this continent
+             A new nation,
+             Conceived in liberty,
+             And dedicated to the proposition
+             That all men are created equal.
+
+             Now we are engaged in a great civil war,
+             Testing whether that nation,
+             Or any nation so conceived and so dedicated,
+             Can long endure.
+             We are met on a great battle-field of that war.
+             We have come to dedicate a portion of that field
+             As a final resting-place
+             For those who here gave their lives
+             That that nation might live.
+             It is altogether fitting and proper
+             That we should do this.
+             But, in a larger sense,
+             We cannot dedicate--
+             We cannot consecrate--
+             We cannot hallow--
+             This ground.
+             The brave men, living and dead,
+             Who struggled here,
+             Have consecrated it far above our poor power
+             To add or detract.
+             The world will little note nor long remember
+             What we say here,
+             But it can never forget
+             What they did here.
+             It is for us, the living, rather,
+             To be dedicated here to the unfinished work
+             Which they who fought here have so nobly advanced.
+             It is rather for us to be here dedicated
+             To the great task remaining before us--
+             That from these honored dead
+             We take increased devotion to that cause
+             For which they gave the last full measure of devotion;
+             That we here highly resolve
+             That these dead shall not have died in vain;
+             That this nation, under God,
+             Shall have a new birth of freedom;
+             And that government of the people,
+             By the people, and for the people
+             Shall not perish from the earth.
+
+
+Lincoln attained this classic perfection of ordered thought, and with
+it, as an inevitable accompaniment this classic beauty of expression,
+only by great struggle. He became a poet of the first rank only by
+virtue of his moral spirit. He was continually correcting deficiencies
+in his character, which were far greater than is generally received,
+owing to the tendency of American historians of the tribe of Parson
+Weems to find by force illustrations of moral heroism in the youth of
+our great men. Thus Lincoln is represented as a noble lad, who, having
+allowed a borrowed book to be ruined by rain, went to the owner and
+offered to "pull fodder" to repay him, which the man ungenerously
+permitted him to do. The truth is, that the neighbor, to whom the book
+was a cherished possession, required him to do the work in repayment,
+and that Lincoln not only did it grudgingly, but afterwards lampooned
+the man so severely in satiric verse that he was ashamed to show himself
+at neighborhood gatherings. All the people about Gentryville feared
+Lincoln's caustic wit, and disliked him for it, although they were
+greatly impressed with his ability exhibited thereby. Lincoln recognized
+his moral obliquity, and curbed his propensity for satire, which was a
+case of that "exercise of natural faculty" which affects all gifted
+persons. And when he left that region he visited all the neighbors, and
+asked pardon of those whom he had ridiculed. The true Lincoln is a far
+better example to boys than the fictitious one, in that he had more
+unlovely traits at first than the average lad, yet he reformed, with the
+result that, when he went to new scenes, he speedily became the most
+popular young man in the neighborhood. He was one of those who
+
+
+                      "rise on stepping stones
+              Of their dead selves to higher things."
+
+
+The reformation of his character by self examination and determination
+not to make the same mistake again seems to have induced similar
+effects and methods for their attainment in the case of his
+intellectual development. Whatever the connection, both regenerations
+proceeded apace. Lincoln at first was a shallow thinker, accepting
+without examination the views of others, especially popular statesmen,
+such as Henry Clay, whose magnetic personality was drawing to himself
+the high-spirited young men of the West. Some of the political
+doctrines which Lincoln then adopted he retained to the end, these
+being on subjects such as taxation and finance whose moral bearing was
+not apparent, and therefore into which he never inquired closely, for
+Lincoln's mind could not be profoundly interested in any save a moral
+question. When he found that a revered statesman was weak upon a
+crucial moral issue, he repressed his innate tendency to loyalty and
+rejected him. Thus, after a visit to Henry Clay in Kentucky, when the
+slavery question was arising to vex the country despite the efforts
+the aged statesman had made to settle it by the compromise of 1850,
+Lincoln returned disillusioned, having found that the light he himself
+possessed on the subject was clearer than that of his old leader. The
+eulogy which he delivered on the death of Clay, which occurred shortly
+afterward (in 1852), is the most perfunctory of all his addresses.
+
+Indeed, not till the time of the Repeal of the Missouri Compromise of
+1854, which brought Lincoln back into politics by its overthrow of
+what he regarded as the constitutional exclusion of slavery from the
+Territories, did he rise to his highest powers as a thinker and
+speaker. Lincoln had been defeated for reelection to Congress because
+of his opposition, though not highly moral in character, to the
+popular Mexican war, and, regarding himself as a political failure, he
+had devoted himself to law. His most notable speech in the House of
+Representatives, a well composed satirical arraignment of President
+Polk for throwing the country into war, had failed utterly of its
+intended effect, probably because of its trimming partisan tone. In
+1854 he was relieved of the trammels of party, the Whigs having gone
+to smash. Anti-slavery had become a great moral movement, and he was
+drawn into its current. Almost at once he became its Western leader.
+His speech against the Repeal of the Missouri Compromise which had
+been effected by his inveterate antagonist, Senator Stephen A.
+Douglas, was his first classic achievement in argumentative oratory.
+While in the greater aspect of artistic composition, the form of the
+address as a whole, his master was Euclid, in minor points the
+influence of Shakespeare, of whom Lincoln had become a great reader,
+was apparent, as indicated by a quotation from the dramatist, and an
+application to Senator Douglas of the scene of Lady Macbeth trying to
+wash out the indelible stain upon her hand. Also the Bible was the
+source of strong and telling phrases and figures of speech. Thus he
+denominated slavery as "the great Behemoth of danger," and asked,
+"shall the strong grip of the nation be loosened upon him, to intrust
+him to the hands of his feeble keepers?"
+
+And, in the following passage, characteristic of the new Lincoln, I
+think that either Shakespeare and the Bible had combined to inspire
+him with graphic description of character and moral indignation, or
+they enforced these native powers.
+
+"Again, you have among you a sneaking individual of the class of
+native tyrants known as the 'Slave-Dealer'. He watches your
+necessities, and crawls up to buy your slave at a speculative price.
+If you cannot help it, you sell to him; but if you can help it, you
+drive him from your door. You despise him utterly. You do not
+recognize him as a friend, or even as an honest man. Your children
+must not play with his; they may rollick freely with the little
+negroes, but not with the slave-dealer's children. If you are obliged
+to deal with him you try to get through the job without so much as
+touching him. It is common with you to join hands with the men you
+meet, but with the slave-dealer you avoid the ceremony--instinctively
+shrinking from the snaky contact."
+
+Of Lincoln's critical appreciation of Shakespeare Frank B. Carpenter,
+the artist of the "First Reading of the Emancipation Proclamation"
+(see illustration on page 206), writes in his "Six Months at the White
+House with Abraham Lincoln" as follows:
+
+"Presently the conversation turned upon Shakspeare, of whom it is well
+known Mr. Lincoln was very fond. He once remarked, 'It matters not to
+me whether Shakspeare be well or ill acted; with him the thought
+suffices.' Edwin Booth was playing an engagement at this time at
+Grover's Theatre. He had been announced for the coming evening in his
+famous part of _Hamlet_. The President had never witnessed his
+representation of this character, and he proposed being present. The
+mention of this play, which I afterward learned had at all times a
+peculiar charm for Mr. Lincoln's mind, waked up a train of thought I
+was not prepared for. Said he,--and his words have often returned to
+me with a sad interest since his own assassination,--'There is one
+passage of the play of "Hamlet" which is very apt to be slurred over
+by the actor, or omitted altogether, which seems to me the choicest
+part of the play. It is the soliloquy of the King, after the murder.
+It always struck me as one of the finest touches of nature in the
+world.'
+
+"Then, throwing himself into the very spirit of the scene, he took
+up the words:--
+
+
+         "'O my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
+           It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
+           A brother's murder!--Pray can I not,
+           Though inclination be as sharp as will;
+           My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
+           And, like a man to double business bound,
+           I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
+           And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
+           Were thicker than itself with brother's blood?
+           Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
+           To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy
+           But to confront the visage of offence;
+           And what's in prayer but this twofold force--
+           To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
+           Or pardoned, being down? Then I'll look up;
+           My fault is past. But O what form of prayer
+           Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder?--
+           That cannot be; since I am still possessed
+           Of those effects for which I did the murder,--
+           My crown, my own ambition, and my queen.
+             May one be pardoned and retain the offence?
+           In the corrupted currents of this world,
+           Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,
+           And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
+           Buys out the law; but 'tis not so _above_.
+           There is no shuffling; there the action lies
+           In its true nature; and we ourselves compelled,
+           Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
+           To give in evidence. What then? What rests?
+           Try what repentance can; what can it not?
+           Yet what can it when one cannot repent?
+             O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
+           O bruised soul that, struggling to be free,
+           Art more engaged! Help, angels, make assay!
+           Bow, stubborn knees! And heart with strings of steel,
+           Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe;
+           All may be well!'
+
+
+"He repeated this entire passage from memory, with a feeling and
+appreciation unsurpassed by anything I ever witnessed upon the stage.
+Remaining in thought for a few moments, he continued:--
+
+"'The opening of the play of "King Richard the Third" seems to me often
+entirely misapprehended. It is quite common for an actor to come upon
+the stage, and, in a sophomoric style, to begin with a flourish:--
+
+
+           "'Now is the winter of our discontent
+             Made glorious summer by this sun of York,
+             And all the clouds that lowered upon our house,
+             In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.'
+
+
+"'Now,' said he, 'this is all wrong. Richard, you remember, had been,
+and was then plotting the destruction of his brothers, to make room
+for himself. Outwardly, the most loyal to the newly crowned king,
+secretly he could scarcely contain his impatience at the obstacles
+still in the way of his own elevation. He appears upon the stage, just
+after the crowning of Edward, burning with repressed hate and
+jealousy. The prologue is the utterance of the most intense bitterness
+and satire.' Then, unconsciously assuming the character, Mr. Lincoln
+repeated, also from memory, Richard's soliloquy, rendering it with a
+degree of force and power that made it seem like a new creation to me.
+Though familiar with the passage from boyhood, I can truly say that
+never till that moment had I fully appreciated its spirit. I could not
+refrain from laying down my palette and brushes, and applauding
+heartily upon his conclusion, saying, at the same time, half in
+earnest, that I was not sure but that he had made a mistake in the
+choice of a profession, considerably, as may be imagined, to his
+amusement. Mr. Sinclair has since repeatedly said to me that he never
+heard these choice passages of Shakspeare rendered with more effect by
+the most famous of modern actors."
+
+Lincoln's sense of the classic phrase seems to have been native with
+him, for we find it in his earliest utterances. Such a phrase appears
+in homely proverbial form in his first speech: "My politics are short
+and sweet, like the old woman's dance." Impaired in rhythm of thought
+and sound by an awkward, though logical, parenthetical expression,
+another phrase stands out in a "spread-eagle" passage from his first
+formal address, that on "The Perpetuation of Our Political
+Institutions."
+
+"All the armies of Europe, Asia, and Africa combined, with all the
+treasure of earth (our own excepted) in its military chest, with a
+Bonaparte for a commander, could not by force _take a drink from the
+Ohio or make a track on the Blue Ridge_ in a trial of a thousand
+years."
+
+And in a eulogy on Washington, Lincoln early achieved a line which in
+phonetic quality, rhetorical figure and rhythmic cadence is pure
+poetry, though not of an exceptional order.
+
+"In solemn awe we pronounce the name, and in its naked deathless
+splendor leave it shining on."
+
+In an article entitled "Lincoln's Literary Experiments," by John G.
+Nicolay, one of Lincoln's two private secretaries, which was published
+in the Century Magazine for April, 1894, are reproduced Lincoln's
+notes of one lyceum lecture on "Niagara Falls," and the text of
+another on "Discoveries, Inventions and Improvements." These, however,
+detract, if anything, from Lincoln's reputation as a writer, for in
+choice of subjects and in style of treatment there is seen an almost
+discreditable stooping of a man of genius, even in his function of
+teacher, to the low popular taste of the West at the time. In the
+first lecture Lincoln presented the statistics of the water power of
+Niagara Falls for each minute, and led his hearers from this base to
+the "contemplation of the vast power the sun is constantly exerting in
+the quiet noiseless operation of lifting water up to be rained down
+again." Yet at this point he stopped short of his duty as an educator,
+for he made no suggestion as to the utilization of this power. He was
+satisfied with giving the people what they had come for--the pleasant
+excitation of a mental faculty, that of the imagination in its primary
+form of wonder at the grandeur of the material universe. In short, he
+was acting as a mere entertainer--as so many of our public men do now
+at "Chautauquas."
+
+In the second lecture he performed this function in a still more
+discreditable manner, by catering to the unworthy demand of his
+hearers for obvious and familiar humorous conceptions to grasp which
+would cause them no mental exertion. Thus, in speaking of the
+inventions of the locomotive and telegraph, already old enough for the
+first inevitable similitudes and jocose remarks about them to be
+current, he said:
+
+"The iron horse is panting and impatient to carry him (man) everywhere
+in no time; and the lightning stands ready harnessed to take and bring
+his tidings in a trifle less than no time."
+
+This reveals Lincoln's taste for the characteristic American humor of
+exaggeration, which was later to afford him relief from the stress and
+strain of his duties as President in the works of "Petroleum V. Nasby"
+and "Artemus Ward," writers, however, with a quaint originality which
+lifted them and their admirers above the plane of humorous composition
+and appreciation of the preceding decade. Indeed, Lincoln developed
+his own power of witty expression to a degree excelling that of the
+writers he admired, and in quality of product, if not in quantity (for
+the greater part of the "funny stories" attributed to him, thank
+heaven, are apocryphal) he stands in the front rank of the American
+humorists of his generation.
+
+And as the poet and the wit are near akin through this common appeal
+to the imagination, Lincoln, had he overcome the obsession of
+melancholy in his nature which was the mood in which he resorted to
+poetry, and which early limited his taste for it to verse of a sad and
+reflective kind, might have become a literary craftsman of the order
+of Holmes, whose poetry in the main was bright and joyous, and, even
+when he occasionally touched upon such subjects as death, was, as we
+have seen, informed with inspiring Hellenic beauty rather than
+depressing Hebraic moralization. It was in his sad moments, says Henry
+C. Whitney, that the mind of Lincoln "gravitated toward the weird,
+sombre and mystical. In his normal and tranquil state of mind, 'The
+Last Leaf,' by Oliver Wendell Holmes, was his favorite" (poem). It was
+Lincoln's happy lot to rise in the realm of oratory by the power of
+his poetic spirit higher than any American, save probably Emerson, has
+done in other fields of literature. On the theme of slavery, where his
+unerring moral sense had free sway, he became our supreme orator,
+transcending even Webster in grandeur of thought and beauty of its
+expression. His periods are not as sonorous as the Olympian New
+England orator's, but their accents will reach as far and resound even
+longer by the carrying and sustaining power of the ideas which they
+express. Indeed, it is on the wings supplied by Lincoln that Webster's
+most significant conception, that of the nature of the Constitution,
+is even now borne along, because of the uplifting ideality which
+Lincoln gave it by more broadly applying it to the nation itself as an
+examplar and preserver to the world of ideal government.
+
+Webster said: "It is, sir, the people's Constitution, the people's
+Government; made for the people; made by the people; and answerable to
+the people."
+
+This he made the thesis for an argument which was to be followed by a
+magnificent peroration ending with a sentiment, calculated for use as
+a toast at political banquets, and as a patriotic slogan: "Liberty and
+Union, now and forever, one and inseparable!"
+
+Lincoln with purer taste, the expression of which, be it said to
+Webster's credit, had been made possible by the acceptance of the
+earlier statesman's contention, assumed the thesis as placed beyond
+all controversy, and, making it the exhortation of his speech, gave
+to it the character of a sacred adjuration: "That we here highly
+resolve ... that government of the people, by the people, and for
+the people, shall not perish from the earth."
+
+Another example of Lincoln's ability to improve the composition of
+another writer is the closing paragraph of his first inaugural
+address. The President-elect had submitted the manuscript of this most
+important speech, which would be universally scrutinized to find what
+policy he would adopt toward the seceded States, to Seward, his chosen
+Secretary of State, for criticism and suggestion. Mr. Seward approved
+the argument, but advised the addition of a closing paragraph "to meet
+and remove prejudice and passion in the South; and despondency in the
+East." He submitted two paragraphs of his own as alternative models.
+The second was in that poetic vein which occasionally cropped out in
+Seward's speeches, and over which Lincoln on better acquaintance was
+wont good-naturedly to rally him. It is evidence of Lincoln's
+predilection for poetic language, at least at the close of a speech,
+that he adopted the latter paragraph. It ran:
+
+"I close. We are not, we must not be, aliens or enemies, but
+fellow-countrymen and brethren. Although passion has strained our
+bonds of affection too hardly, they must not, I am sure they will not,
+be broken. The mystic chords which, proceeding from so many
+battlefields and so many patriot graves, pass through all the hearts
+and all hearths in this broad continent of ours, will yet again
+harmonize in their ancient music when breathed upon by the guardian
+angel of the nation."
+
+Lincoln, by deft touches which reveal a literary taste beyond that of
+any statesman of his time, indeed beyond that which he himself had yet
+exhibited, transformed this passage into his peroration. His
+emendations were largely in the way of excision of unnecessary
+phrases, resolution of sentences broken in construction into several
+shorter, more direct ones, and change of general and vague terms in
+rhetorical figure to concrete and picturesque words. He wrote:
+
+"I am loth to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be
+enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds
+of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every
+battle-field and patriot grave to every living heart and hearth-stone
+all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union when
+again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our
+nature."
+
+More than the persuasive argument and gentle yet determined spirit of
+the address, it was the chaste beauty and tender feeling of these
+closing words which convinced the people that Lincoln measured up to
+the high mental and moral stature demanded of one who was to be their
+leader through the most critical period that had arisen in the life of
+the nation.
+
+The second inaugural address, coming so shortly before the President's
+death, formed unintentionally his farewell address. It has the spirit
+and tone of prophecy. The Bible, in thought and expression, was its
+inspiration. The first two of its three paragraphs ring like a chapter
+from Isaiah, chief of the poet seers of old. The concluding paragraph
+is an apostolic benediction such as Paul or John might have delivered.
+
+"With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the
+right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the
+work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who
+shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphan--to do
+all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among
+ourselves, and with all nations."
+
+
+
+
+                 *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                         THE POETS' LINCOLN
+
+
+
+
+                 *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                    [Illustration: THE LOG CABIN
+
+        Birthplace of Lincoln, near Hodgensville, Kentucky]
+
+
+Abraham Lincoln was born on the 12th day of February, 1809, on the Big
+South Fork of Nolin Creek, in what was then known as Hardin, but is
+now known as La Rue County, Kentucky, about three miles from
+Hodgensville.
+
+The above illustration represents the cabin in which he was born, as
+described by his former neighbors.
+
+Out of that old hut came the mighty man of destiny, the matchless man
+of the Nineteenth Century. The world has no parallel for that
+transition from the cabin to the White House.
+
+
+Julia Ward [Howe] was born in New York City, May 27, 1819. At an early
+age she wrote plays and poems. In 1843 Miss Ward married Dr. Samuel
+Gridley Howe. In 1861, while on a visit to the camp near Washington,
+with Governor John A. Andrew and other friends, Mrs. Howe wrote to the
+air of "John Brown's Body" the "Battle Hymn of the Republic" which has
+become so popular. She also published several books of poems. She
+espoused the Woman-Suffrage movement in 1869, and devoted much of her
+time to the cause. She died in 1910.
+
+This poem was written by Mrs. Howe in her ninetieth year and read by
+her in Symphony Hall, Boston, on the centenary of the martyred
+President's birthday, February 12, 1909.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+              Through the dim pageant of the years
+              A wondrous tracery appears:
+              A cabin of the western wild
+              Shelters in sleep a new born child.
+
+              Nor nurse nor parent dear can know
+              The way those infant feet must go,
+              And yet a nation's help and hope
+              Are sealed within that horoscope.
+
+              Beyond is toil for daily bread,
+              And thought to noble issues led.
+              And courage, arming for the morn
+              For whose behest this man was born.
+
+              A man of homely, rustic ways,
+              Yet he achieves the forum's praise
+              And soon earth's highest meed has won,
+              The seat and sway of Washington.
+
+              No throne of honors and delights,
+              Distrustful days and sleepless nights,
+              To struggle, suffer and aspire,
+              Like Israel, led by cloud and fire.
+
+              A treacherous shot, a sob of rest,
+              A martyr's palm upon his breast,
+              A welcome from the glorious seat
+              Where blameless souls of heroes meet.
+
+              And thrilling, through unmeasured days,
+              A song of gratitude and praise,
+              A cry that all the earth shall heed,
+              To God, who gave him for our need.
+
+
+
+
+                           THE GREAT OAK
+
+             Some men are born, while others seem to grow
+             From out the soil, like towering trees that spread
+             Their strong, broad limbs in shelter overhead
+             When tempest storms, protecting all below.
+
+             Lincoln, Great Oak of a Nation's life,
+             Rose from the soil, with all its virgin power
+             Emplanted in him for the fateful hour,
+             When he might save a Nation in its strife.
+
+                                                --_Bennett Chapple._
+
+
+
+
+              [Illustration: LINCOLN BY THE CABIN FIRE
+
+    "Lying down was Lincoln's favorite attitude while reading or
+        studying. This remained a habit with him throughout
+        life."--_Henry C. Whitney in his "Life Of Lincoln."_]
+
+
+
+
+Noah Davis, born in Haverhill, New Hampshire, September 10, 1818. He
+was educated at Albion, New York, and in the Seminary at Lima, studied
+law, and was admitted to the bar in 1841. Appointed in March, 1857, a
+justice of the New York Supreme Court. He served in Congress from
+March 4, 1869, till July 20, 1870, when he resigned, having been
+appointed by President Grant, U. S. Attorney for the Southern District
+of New York. He resigned that office on Dec. 31, 1872, being elected
+justice of the New York State Supreme Court. In 1874, he became
+presiding justice. In January, 1887, he was retired from the bench and
+resumed practice. He died in New York in 1902.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+          Almost a hundred years ago, in a lonely hut,
+          Of the dark and bloody ground of wild Kentucky,
+          A child was born to poverty and toil,
+          Save in the sweet prophecy of mother's love
+          None dreamed of future fame for him!
+
+          'Mid deep privation and in rugged toil,
+          He grew unschooled to vigorous youth,
+          His teaching was an ancient spelling book,
+          The Holy Writ, "The Pilgrim's Progress,"
+          Old "�sop's Fables" and the "Life of Washington";
+          And out of these, stretched by the hearthstone flame
+          For lack of other light, he garnered lore
+          That filled his soul with faith in God.
+
+          The prophet's fire, the psalmist's music deep,
+          The pilgrims' zeal throughout his steadfast march,
+          The love of fellow man as taught by Christ,
+          And all the patriot faith and truth
+          Marked the Father of our Land!
+          And there, in all his after life, in thought
+          And speech and act, resonant concords were in his
+              great soul.
+
+          And, God's elect, he calmly rose to awful power,
+          Restored his mighty land to smiling peace,
+          Then, with the martyr blood of his own life,
+          Baptized the millions of the free.
+
+          Henceforth, the ages hold his name high writ
+          And deep on their eternal rolls.
+
+
+
+
+Rev. George W. Crofts was born at Leroy, Illinois, April 9, 1842. He was
+educated at the Illinois State University at Springfield, graduating in
+the class of 1864. He was ordained to the ministry in 1865. He preached
+at Sandwich, Illinois; Council Bluffs, Iowa; Beatrice, Nebraska, and
+West Point. He died at West Point, May 16, 1909.
+
+
+                        THE BIRTH OF LINCOLN
+
+          No choir celestial sang at Lincoln's birth,
+            No transient star illumined the midnight sky
+            In honor of some ancient prophecy,
+          No augury was given from heaven or earth.
+
+          He blossomed like a flower of wondrous worth,
+            A rare, sweet flower of heaven that ne'er should die,
+            Altho' the vase in which it grew should lie
+          Most rudely rent amid the darkling dearth.
+
+          There, in that humble cabin, separate
+          From everything the world regarded great,
+            Where wealth had never pressed its greedy feet,
+            Where honor, pomp or fame found no retreat;
+          E'en there was born beneath the eye of God
+          The noblest man His footstool ever trod.
+
+
+
+
+               [Illustration: Mendelssohn Darwin Lincoln]
+
+
+                            MENDELSSOHN
+                               DARWIN
+                               LINCOLN
+
+                        _February 12, 1809_
+
+
+Clarence E. Carr, born in Enfield, New Hampshire, January 31, 1853.
+Received his early education from the common schools and academies of
+the State, later from Dartmouth College, from which he graduated in
+1875.
+
+Practiced law, was also a manufacturer and farmer. Was president of
+the New Hampshire Unitarian Conference, director and vice-president of
+the American Unitarian Association, bank trustee, president of the
+United Life and Accident Insurance Company of Concord, New Hampshire,
+and occasionally a wanderer in the Elysian Fields of the Muses.
+
+_The Three Birthday Anniversaries_ is the subject of a highly
+appreciative article on the subject of Mendelssohn, Darwin and Lincoln,
+by President Samuel A. Eliot of the American Unitarian Association, in
+the _Christian Register_ of February 4, 1909. The central thought
+therein is thus expressed very beautifully by Mr. Carr.
+
+
+        Three lives this day unto the world were given
+        Into whose souls God breathed the air of heaven,--
+        The first He taught the music of the spheres,
+        The next, of worlds, the story of the years;
+        And, loving, wise, and just beyond our dream,
+        The third a pilot made upon the New World's stream.
+
+        Their work is done, but ere they crossed "the portal,"
+        One, Song; One, Truth; One, Freedom; Made Immortal!
+
+
+
+
+James Phinney Baxter, born at Gorham Maine, March 23, 1831. Academic
+education; President of Savings Bank; Mayor of Portland, six terms,
+1893-97--1904-5. Organized Associated Charities and was its first
+President; built and donated to the City of Portland its public
+library in 1888, and to Gorham in 1907; also conveyed to Gorham his
+family mansion for use as a Museum. President Portland Public Library,
+Baxter Library (Gorham), Portland Benevolent Society, Overseer of
+Bowdoin College, President Maine Historical Society since 1890,
+Northeast Historical Society since 1899. Author: _The Trelawney
+Papers_, 1884; _The British Invasion From the North_, 1887; _Sir
+Ferdinando Gorges and His Province of Maine_, 1890; _The Pioneers of
+New France in New England_, 1894; edited ten volumes of _Documentary
+History of Maine_, etc.
+
+
+                      THE NATAL DAY OF LINCOLN
+
+         Son of the Western World! whose heritage
+         Was the vast prairie and the boundless sky;
+         Whose callow thoughts with wings untrammeled sought
+         Free scope for growth denied to Ease and Power,
+         Naught couldst thou know of place or precedent,
+         For Freedom's ichor with thy mother's milk
+         Coursing thy veins, would render thee immune
+         To Fashion's dictate, or prescriptive creed,
+         Leaving thy soul unhindered to expand
+         Like Samuel's in Jehovah's tutelage.
+                 Hail to thy Natal day!
+
+         Like all great souls with vision unobscured
+         Thou wert by Pride unswayed, and so didst tread
+         The gray and sombre way by Duty marked;
+         Seeking the springs of Wisdom, unallured
+         By shallower sources which the witless tempt.
+         Afar o'er arid plains didst thou behold
+         An empty sky, and mountains desolate
+         Barring thy way to fairer scenes beyond;
+         But faith was thine, and patience measureless,
+         Making thee equal to thy destiny.
+                 Hail to thy Natal day!
+
+         It summons to our vision all thy life,
+         Of strenuous toil; the cabin low and rude;
+         The meagre fare; the blazing logs whose glow
+         Illumed the pages of inspired bards,
+         Shakespeare and Bunyan; prophets, priests and seers;
+         The darkling forest where thy ringing axe
+         Chimed with the music of the waterfall;
+         The eager flood bearing thy rugged raft
+         Swift footed through an ever changing world
+         Unknown to thee save in remembered dreams.
+                 Hail to thy Natal day!
+
+         We see thee in the mart where Selfishness
+         For Fame ephemeral strives, and sordid gain;
+         Thy ill-requited toil till thou hadst earned
+         The right to raise thy potent voice within
+         A nation's forum, facing all the world;
+         And then, achievement such as few have known,
+         A mighty people placing in thy hand
+         A sceptre swaying half a continent,
+         Making thee peer of kings and potentates;
+         Aye, greater than them all, whate'er their power.
+                 Hail to thy Natal day!
+
+         But, lo! the martial camp; the bivouac;
+         The rude entrenchment;--the grim fortalice;
+         The tented field;--the flaming battle line,
+         And thy great soul amidst it all unmoved
+         By petty aims, leading with flawless faith
+         Thy people to a promised land of peace;
+         And, then, when thou hadst reached the goal of hope,
+         And the world stood amazed, the heavy crown
+         Of martyrdom was pressed upon thy brow
+         And thy immortal course was consummate.
+                 Hail to thy Natal day!
+
+         In all great souls God sows with generous hand
+         The seed of martyrdom, for 'twas decreed
+         In Eden, that alone by sacrifice
+         Should sons of men the crown immortal win;
+         And thou, who didst the shining heights attain
+         Of unsurpassed achievement, didst but pay
+         The impartial toll of souls like thine required.
+         And we, who on the narrow marge of Time
+         Standing wondering, shed no tears, but raise to thee
+         The p�ans to a martyred hero due,
+                 Hail to thy Natal day.
+
+
+
+
+         [Illustration: MONUMENT TO THE MOTHER OF LINCOLN]
+
+
+Nancy Hanks Lincoln died October 5, 1818, aged thirty-five years. The
+design of this monument is by Thompson Stickle, and it was constructed
+by J. S. Culver of Springfield, Illinois, and dedicated October 2,
+1902.
+
+In the construction of the monument in Spencer County, Indiana, Mr.
+Culver used as much of the granite as possible from the National
+Lincoln Monument before it was reconstructed.
+
+The face of this block is handsomely hand-carved. As the Scroll of
+Time unrolls, it reveals the name of "Nancy Hanks Lincoln." The ivy
+represents affection and the branch of oak nobility.
+
+The public celebration of the centenary of Lincoln's birth was held in
+the town of North Adams, Massachusetts, February 12, 1909.
+
+Ex-Senator Thomas F. Cassidy, in his address, said: "One hundred years
+ago today, in Hardin County, Kentucky, there was ushered into being
+the child, Abraham Lincoln.
+
+"As God selected Mary, the humble girl of Judea, to be the mother of
+the Saviour of mankind and she gave birth to Him in the stable at
+Bethlehem, so it was ordained that in the lowly log cabin of the
+Kentucky wilderness, Nancy Hanks should receive into the protection of
+her sheltering arms the child who was destined to be the Saviour of
+the Republic."
+
+
+Harriet Monroe, born at Chicago, Illinois, December, 23, 1860.
+Graduated Visitation Academy, Georgetown, District Columbia, 1879. In
+December, 1889, was appointed to write text for cantata for opening of
+Chicago Auditorium in March, 1891. Was requested by Committee on
+Ceremonies of Chicago Exposition to write a poem for the dedication;
+her _Columbia Ode_ was read and sung at the dedicatory ceremonies on
+the 400th anniversary of the discovery of America, October 21, 1892.
+Author of _Valerie_, and other poems, 1892; _The Columbia Ode_, 1893;
+_John Wellborn, Poet, A Memoir_, 1896; _The Passing Show--Modern Plays
+in Verse_, 1903, etc.
+
+
+                         NANCY HANKS
+
+                       Prairie Child,
+                         Brief as dew,
+                       What winds of wonder
+                         Nourished you?
+
+                       Rolling plain
+                         Of billowy green,
+                       Fair horizons,
+                         Blue, serene.
+
+                       Lofty skies
+                         The slow clouds climb,
+                       Where burning stars
+                         Beat out the time.
+
+                       These, and the dreams
+                         Of fathers bold,
+                       Baffled longings
+                         Hopes untold.
+
+                       Gave to you
+                         A heart of fire,
+                       Love like waters,
+                         Brave desire.
+
+                       Ah, when youth's rapture
+                         Went out in pain,
+                       And all seemed over,
+                         Was all in vain?
+
+                       O soul obscure,
+                         Whose wings life bound,
+                       And soft death folded
+                         Under the ground.
+
+                       Wilding lady,
+                         Still and true,
+                       Who gave us Lincoln
+                         And never knew:
+
+                       To you at last
+                         Our praise, our tears,
+                       Love and a song
+                         Through the nation's years.
+
+                       Mother of Lincoln,
+                         Our tears, our praise;
+                       A battle-flag
+                         And the victor's bays!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: THE RAIL SPLITTER
+
+             From the "Footprints of Abraham Lincoln"]
+
+
+
+
+                        LINCOLN THE LABORER
+
+          _From an Horatian Ode by Richard Henry Stoddard_
+
+
+               A laboring man with horny hands,
+               Who swung the axe, who tilled the lands,
+               Who shrank from nothing new,
+               But did as poor men do.
+
+               One of the people. Born to be
+               Their curious epitome,
+               To share, yet rise above,
+               Their shifting hate and love.
+
+               Common his mind, it seemed so then,
+               His thoughts the thoughts of other men,
+               Plain were his words, and poor--
+               But now they will endure.
+
+               No hasty fool of stubborn will,
+               But prudent, cautious, still--
+               Who, since his work was good,
+               Would do it as he could.
+
+               No hero, this, of Roman mold--
+               Nor like our stately sires of old.
+               Perhaps he was not great--
+               But he preserved the state.
+
+               O, honest face, which all men knew,
+               O, tender heart, but known to few--
+               O, wonder of the age,
+               Cut off by tragic rage.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: "THE BOY LINCOLN"
+
+                        By Eastman Johnson]
+
+
+
+
+James Whitcomb Riley was born in Greenfield, Indiana, about 1852. He
+was engaged in various pursuits until 1875, when he began to
+contribute verses of poetry to local papers in the Western district
+which gained wide popularity for him. His published works in dialect
+and his serious poems have also proved very popular.
+
+
+                          A PEACEFUL LIFE
+
+                             (LINCOLN)
+
+               A peaceful life;--just toil and rest--
+                 All his desire;--
+               To read the books he liked the best
+                 Beside the cabin fire.
+               God's word and man's;--to peer sometimes
+                 Above the page, in smoldering gleams,
+               And catch, like far heroic rhymes,
+                 The onmarch of his dreams.
+
+               A peaceful life;--to hear the low
+                 Of pastured herds,
+               Or woodman's axe that, blow on blow,
+                 Fell sweet as rhythmic words.
+               And yet there stirred within his breast
+                 A faithful pulse, that, like a roll
+               Of drums, made high above his rest
+                 A tumult in his soul.
+
+               A peaceful life!--They hailed him even
+                 As One was hailed
+               Whose open palms were nailed toward Heaven
+                 When prayers nor aught availed.
+               And lo, he paid the selfsame price
+                 To lull a nation's awful strife
+               And will us, through the sacrifice
+                 Of self, his peaceful life.
+
+
+
+
+William Wilberforce Newton, born in Alleghany, Pennsylvania, March,
+1836. Was graduated at Franklin and Marshall College in 1853. Studied
+law, and was admitted to the bar in 1867. He served as Captain and
+Assistant Adjutant General of U. S. Volunteers in 1861-5; was Editor
+of the _Philadelphia Press_ and President of the "Press" Publishing
+Co., from 1867 till 1878. He is the author of _Vignettes of Travel_
+and has been largely engaged in railway building in Mexico.
+
+
+                        LEADER OF HIS PEOPLE
+
+                    Saw you in his boyhood days
+                      O'er Kentucky's prairies;
+                    Bending to the settler's ways
+                    Yon poor youth whom now we praise--
+                      Romance like the fairies?
+                    Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
+                      Leader of his people.
+
+                    Saw you in the days of youth
+                      By the candle's flaring:
+                    Lincoln searching for the truth,
+                    Splitting rails to gain, forsooth,
+                      Knowledge for the daring?
+                    Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
+                      Leader of his people.
+
+                    Saw you in his manhood's prime
+                      Like a star resplendent,
+                    Him we praise with measured rhyme
+                    Waiting for the coming time
+                      With a faith transcendent?
+                    Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
+                      Leader of his people.
+
+                    Saw you in the hour of strife
+                      When fierce war was raging,
+                    Him who gave the slaves a life
+                    Full and rich with freedom rife,
+                      All his powers engaging?
+                    Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
+                      Leader of his people.
+
+                    Saw you when the war was done
+                      (Such is Lincoln's story)
+                    Him whose strength the strife had won
+                    Sinking like the setting sun
+                      Crowned with human glory?
+                    Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
+                      Leader of his people.
+
+                    Saw you in our country's roll
+                      Midst her saints and sages,
+                    Lincoln's name upon the scroll--
+                    Standing at the topmost goal
+                      On the nation's pages?
+                    Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
+                      Leader of his people.
+
+                    Hero! Yes! We know thy fame;
+                      It will live forever!
+                    Thou to us art still the same;
+                    Great the glory of thy name,
+                      Great thy strong endeavor!
+                    Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
+                      Leader of his people.
+
+
+
+
+                 [Illustration: LINCOLN THE LAWYER
+
+                 From an Ambrotype, taken in 1856]
+
+
+"The charm which invested the life on the Eighth Circuit in the mind
+and fancy of Mr. Lincoln yet lingered there, even in the most
+responsible and glorious days of his administration; over and over
+again has the great President stolen an hour ... from his life of
+anxious care to live over again those bygone exhilarating and halcyon
+days ... with Sweet or me."--Henry C. Whitney in his _Life of Lincoln_.
+
+
+
+
+Wilbur Hazelton Smith was born in the town of Mansfield, New York,
+March 28, 1860. His early education was obtained from the district
+school and he began teaching at the age of sixteen. After completing
+an academic course he went to Cornell University from which he was
+graduated with the degree of A.B. in 1885.
+
+He at once became a teacher and after a few years started the first
+Current Topic paper in the state, _The Educator_. Later he edited a
+teachers' paper, _The World's Review_. Perhaps he is best known as
+publisher of the _Regents' Review Books_ used in nearly every school
+in the United States. His death occurred October 19, 1913.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+           Unlearned in the cant and quip of schools,
+             Uncouth, if only city ways refine;
+             Ungodly, if 'tis creeds that make divine;
+           In station poor, as judged by human rules,
+             And yet a giant towering o'er them all;
+             Clean, strong in mind, just, merciful, sublime;
+             The noblest product of the age and time,
+             Invoked of God in answer to men's call.
+
+           O simple world, and will you ever learn,
+             Schools can but guide, they cannot mind create?
+             'Neath roughest rock the choicest treasures wait;
+           In meanest forms we priceless gems discern;
+             Nor time, nor age, condition, rank nor birth,
+             Can hide the truly noble of the earth.
+
+
+
+
+               [Illustration: LINCOLN'S OFFICE CHAIR]
+
+
+This chair was used by Mr. Lincoln in his law office at Springfield,
+Illinois, where, before leaving for the City of Washington after his
+election as President, he wrote his Inaugural Address and formed his
+Cabinet, frequently conferring with his twenty-year law partner,
+William H. Herndon, on such matters, and adopting changes as suggested
+if he considered them advisable. It was presented to O. H. Oldroyd
+while living in the Lincoln Homestead, Springfield, by Mr. Herndon,
+March 18, 1886.
+
+
+James Riley was born in the hamlet of Tang, one mile from the town of
+Ballymahon, County Longford, Ireland, and two miles from Lissoy,
+County Westmeath, the home of Oliver Goldsmith--on the road between
+the two--August 15, 1848. Published _Poems_, 1888; _Songs of Two
+Peoples_, 1898, and _Christy of Rathglin_, a novel, in 1907. His poem
+_The American Flag_, has been rated often as the best poem written to
+our banner. Four lines on the loss of the Titanic brought from Captain
+Rostron words in which he said: "With such praise one feels on a
+higher plane, and must keep so, to be worthy of continuance."
+
+
+                    LINCOLN IN HIS OFFICE CHAIR
+
+                 High-browed, rugged, and swarthy;
+                   A picture of pain and care;
+                 A lawyer sat with his greatest brief,
+                   High in his office chair.
+
+                 His Country was to him client!
+                   Futurity his ward!
+                 And he must plead 'fore Fate's high court,
+                   With prayer, and pen, and sword.
+
+                 Elected, by his people!
+                   His heart and theirs, one beat!
+                 He sees the storm-clouds gather;
+                   The waves dash at his feet!
+
+                 Gloom upon land and water!
+                   The Flag no more in the sun!
+                 Lights from the South-line flickering,
+                   And--dying--one--by one!
+
+                 November's winds wild shrieking!
+                   Night--closed, on a Union rent!
+                 And still the lawyer sat dreaming
+                   Of its once bright firmament.
+
+                 Then, '61! Dark! Silent!
+                   Only the calling word
+                 Of Anderson at Sumter
+                   The lawyer, writing, heard.
+
+                 Writing the Message that ever
+                   Shall live in the hearts of men;
+                 With cannon to cannon fronting,
+                   The lawyer held the pen.
+
+                 Only thinking of Country
+                   And the work that must be done;
+                 Nature made in roughest mold
+                   Her favored, fated son.
+
+                 He wrote while the world was waiting
+                   Great Freedom's final test.
+                 Should, or should not Democracy
+                   Be planted in the West?
+
+                 Should Liberty at last survive
+                   And man look straight on man?
+                 Law, in its round, its strength and might
+                   Be timed unto sense and plan?
+
+                 He, in his chair there sitting,
+                   Had all these things for thought.
+                 Now, the Vote unrecognized,
+                   Must battles wild be fought?
+
+                 Alone the Chair is standing,
+                   To remind the Land of the time
+                 When the Slaver's heart, all passion,
+                   He planned, and pursued his crime!
+
+                 As he rushed Disunion's order,
+                   On, on from State to State!
+                 And the Pen talked loud down the Message,
+                   And bided the Land to wait.
+
+
+
+
+   [Illustration: LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR UNITED STATES SENATOR
+
+      Photograph from an Ambrotype, by Gilmer, Illinois, 1858]
+
+
+
+
+Elizabeth Porter Gould, born June 8, 1848, died July 28, 1906.
+Essayist, lecturer and author; an early inspirer of woman's clubs and
+the pioneer of the _Current Events_ and _Topics_ classes in Boston and
+vicinity; an officer in several educational societies and honorary
+member of the Webster Historical Society, Castilian Club and other
+clubs where she had read many historical papers of great research and
+given many practical suggestions. Among her published works are _Gems
+From Walt Whitman_, _Anne Gilchrist and Walt Whitman_, _Ezekial
+Cheever, Schoolmaster_, _John Adams and Daniel Webster as
+Schoolmasters_, _A Pioneer Doctor_, _One's Self I Sing_ and _The
+Brownings and America_. She had great energy and force of character,
+and a capacity for friendship which was a source of great happiness to
+her and endeared her to all.
+
+
+                        THE VOICE OF LINCOLN
+
+          In life's great symphony,
+          Above the seeming discord and the pain,
+          A master-voice is ever singing, singing,
+          The plan of God to men.
+
+          In young America's song,
+          As threatening tumult pierced the tensioned air,
+          The voice of Lincoln over all was singing
+          The love of brother-man.
+
+          And still his voice is heard;
+          'Twill pierce the din of strife and mystery,
+          Till master-voices cease their singing, singing,
+          In life's great symphony.
+
+
+
+
+     [Illustration: LINCOLN AT THE TIME OF DEBATE WITH DOUGLAS
+
+         From an Ambrotype taken at Beardstown, Ill., 1858]
+
+
+His friends advised Lincoln to press his opponent on the Dred Scott
+decision (of the United States Supreme Court permitting slavery in the
+Territories), as Douglas would accept it, but argue for nullifying it
+by anti-slavery legislation in the territorial assemblies, and this
+would satisfy the people of Illinois, and elect him Senator. "All
+right," said Lincoln, "then that kills him in 1860. I am gunning for
+larger game."
+
+
+
+
+Elizabeth Stuart Phelps was born in Andover, Massachusetts, on August
+13, 1844. Educated at Andover. Her literary career began at the age of
+thirteen with contributions to the newspapers. The earlier years of
+her life were devoted to Christian labors among the poor families in
+Andover, but failing health finally prevented her from carrying on her
+labors along that line, and kept her within her study, but her
+sympathy was always enlisted in the reformatory questions of the day.
+_The Gates Ajar_ proved very popular, as did also her many juvenile
+books. She wrote this poem for the Lincoln Memorial Album in 1882. She
+died January 29, 1911.
+
+
+                      THE THOUGHTS OF LINCOLN
+
+            The angels of your thoughts are climbing still
+              The shining ladder of his fame,
+            And have not reached the top, nor ever will,
+              While this low life pronounces his high name.
+
+            But yonder, where they dream, or dare, or do,
+              The "good" or "great" beyond our reach,
+            To talk of him must make old language new
+              In heavenly, as it did in human, speech.
+
+
+
+
+                [Illustration: THE LINCOLN LIFE-MASK
+
+                        By Leonard W. Volk]
+
+
+Mr. Lincoln was engaged in trying a case in the United States Court at
+Chicago, Illinois, in April, 1860, and Leonard W. Volk, the sculptor,
+called upon him and said: "I would like to have you sit to me for your
+bust." "I will, Mr. Volk," replied Lincoln. This was the first time
+that Lincoln sat to an artist for the reproduction of his physique in
+this manner. Previous to this he had posed only for daguerreotypes or
+for photographs.
+
+
+Richard Watson Gilder was born in Bordentown, New Jersey, February 8,
+1844, and was educated at his father's school. He enlisted in Landis'
+Philadelphia Battery for the emergency call in the campaign of 1863,
+when the Confederate forces invaded Pennsylvania. Later he was editor
+of a number of magazines and upon the death of J. G. Holland he was
+made associate editor of the _Century_. At the age of twenty-six he
+had attained high literary standing. His poems are published in five
+volumes. He rendered valuable service in tenement-house reform over
+the country. He died on the 18th day of November, 1909.
+
+
+                ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+         This bronze doth keep the very form and mold
+           Of our great martyr's face. Yes, this is he:
+           That brow all wisdom, all benignity;
+         That human, humorous mouth; those cheeks that hold
+         Like some harsh landscape all the summer's gold;
+           That spirit fit for sorrow, as the sea
+           For storms to beat on; the lone agony
+           Those silent, patient lips too well foretold.
+         Yes, this is he who ruled a world of men
+           As might some prophet of the elder day--
+           Brooding above the tempest and the fray
+         With deep-eyed thought and more than mortal ken.
+           A power was his beyond the touch of art
+           Or armed strength--his pure and mighty heart.
+
+
+
+
+                [Illustration: THE HAND OF LINCOLN]
+
+
+The Saturday after the nomination of Mr. Lincoln for President of the
+United States, the Committee appointed to inform him of the said
+nomination arrived in Springfield and performed this duty in the
+evening at his home.
+
+The cast of his hand was made the next morning by Mr. Leonard W. Volk.
+While the sculptor was making the cast of his left hand, Lincoln
+called his attention to a scar on his thumb. "You have heard me called
+the 'rail-splitter' haven't you?" he said, "Well, I used to split
+rails when I was a young man, and one day, while sharpening a wedge on
+a log, the axe glanced and nearly took off my thumb."
+
+
+Edmund Clarence Stedman was born in Hartford, Connecticut, on the 8th
+of October, 1833. He entered Yale College at the age of sixteen and
+distinguished himself in Greek and English Composition. He was the
+editor of several papers in Connecticut and in 1856 removed to New
+York City--a larger field for his literary abilities. He was a
+contributor to _Vanity Fair_, _Putnam's Monthly_, _Harper's Magazine_
+and other periodicals. His poems: _The Diamond Wedding_, _How Old John
+Brown Took Harper's Ferry_, _The Ballad of Lager-Bier_, gave him some
+reputation. He was war-correspondent for the _World_ during the early
+campaigns of the Army of the Potomac from the Headquarters of General
+Irwin McDowell and General B. McClellan. He died in 1908.
+
+
+                        THE HAND OF LINCOLN
+
+                Look on this cast, and know the hand
+                  That bore a nation in its hold;
+                From this mute witness understand
+                  What Lincoln was--how large of mold.
+
+                The man who sped the woodman's team,
+                  And deepest sunk the plowman's share,
+                And pushed the laden raft astream,
+                  Of fate before him unaware.
+
+                This was the hand that knew to swing
+                  The axe--since thus would Freedom train
+                Her son--and made the forest ring,
+                  And drove the wedge and toiled amain.
+
+                Firm hand that loftier office took,
+                  A conscious leader's will obeyed,
+                And, when men sought his word and look,
+                  With steadfast might the gathering swayed.
+
+                No courtier's, toying with a sword,
+                  Nor minstrel's, laid across a lute;
+                Chiefs, uplifted to the Lord
+                  When all the kings of earth are mute!
+
+                The hand of Anak, sinewed strong,
+                  The fingers that on greatness clutch,
+                Yet lo! the marks their lines along
+                  Of one who strove and suffered much.
+
+                For here in mottled cord and vein
+                  I trace the varying chart of years,
+                I know the troubled heart, the strain,
+                  The weight of Atlas--and the tears.
+
+                Again I see the patient brow
+                  That palm erewhile was wont to press;
+                And now 'tis furrowed deep, and now
+                  Made smooth with hope and tenderness.
+
+                For something of a formless grace
+                  This molded outline plays about;
+                A pitying flame, beyond our trace,
+                  Breathes like a spirit, in and out--
+
+                The love that casts an aureole
+                  Round one who, longer to endure,
+                Called mirth to cease his ceaseless dole,
+                  Yet kept his nobler purpose sure.
+
+                Lo, as I gaze, the statured man,
+                  Built up from yon large hand, appears;
+                A type that nature wills to plan
+                  But once in all a people's years.
+
+                What better than this voiceless cast
+                  To tell of such a one as he,
+                Since through its living semblance passed
+                  The thought that bade a race be free?
+
+
+
+
+    [Illustration: HON. ABRAHAM LINCOLN, REPUBLICAN CANDIDATE FOR
+                         THE PRESIDENCY, 1860
+
+      Painted by Hicks; lithograph by L. Grozelier; published by
+     W. Schaus, New York, 1860; printed by J. H. Bufford, Boston]
+
+
+
+
+                    [Illustration: THE "WIGWAM"
+
+  Convention Hall, at Chicago, 1860, in which Lincoln was nominated]
+
+
+The Republicans of Chicago had erected a huge temporary building for
+the use of the Convention. The "Wigwam," as it was called, covered a
+space of 600 feet by 180, and the height was between 50 and 60 feet.
+The building would hold about 10,000 persons, and was divided into
+platform, ground-floor and gallery. The stage upon which the delegates
+and members of the press were seated, held about 1,800 persons; the
+ground-floor and galleries, about 8,000. A large gallery was reserved
+for ladies, which was filled every day to overflowing. The Convention
+met on June 16, 1860.
+
+
+
+
+Edmund Clarence Stedman is the author of this poem, and it was
+published in the _Press and Tribune_ of Chicago, and in _Weekly
+Illinois State Journal_, June 13, 1860. It was sung to the air of the
+"Star Spangled Banner" throughout the campaign.
+
+
+                       HONEST ABE OF THE WEST
+
+          O Hark! from the pine-crested hills of old Maine,
+            Where the splendor first falls from the wings of the
+                morning,
+          And away in the West, over river and plain,
+            Rings out the grand anthem of Liberty's warning!
+          From green-rolling prairie it swells to the sea,
+          For the people have risen, victorious and free,
+          They have chosen their leaders, and bravest and best
+          Of them all is Old Abe, Honest Abe of the West!
+
+          The spirit that fought for the patriots of old
+            Has swept through the land and aroused us forever;
+          In the pure air of heaven a standard unfold
+            Fit to marshal us on to the sacred endeavor!
+          Proudly the banner of freemen we bear;
+          Noble the hopes that encircle it there!
+          And where battle is thickest we follow the crest
+          Of gallant Old Abe, Honest Abe of the West!
+
+          There's a triumph in urging a glorious cause,
+            Though the hosts of the foe for a while may be stronger,
+          Pushing on for just rules and holier laws,
+            Till their lessening columns oppose us no longer.
+          But ours the loud p�an of men who have passed
+          Through the struggles of years, and are victors at last;
+          So forward the flag! Leave to Heaven the rest,
+          And trust in Old Abe, Honest Abe of the West!
+
+
+
+
+         [Illustration: LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT
+
+  From an Ambrotype taken at Springfield, Illinois, August 13, 1860]
+
+
+
+
+William Henry Burleigh, born at Woodstock, Connecticut, February 2,
+1812. In early manhood became an advocate of reforms then unpopular,
+and an acceptable lecturer on behalf of temperance and the
+anti-slavery cause. He removed to Pittsburgh in 1837, where he
+published the _Christian Witness_, and afterwards the _Temperance
+Banner_. As a writer, speaker, editor, poet, reformer, friend and
+associate, it was the universal testimony of those who knew him best
+and esteemed him most truly, that he stood in the forefront of his
+generation. His poetry, animated by deep love of nature and a profound
+desire to uphold truth and justice, gives him a place with our first
+minor poets.
+
+
+                    PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN, 1860
+
+         Up again for the conflict! Our banner fling out,
+         And rally around it with song and with shout!
+         Stout of heart, firm of hand, should the gallant boys be,
+         Who bear to the battle the Flag of the Free!
+         Like our fathers, when Liberty called to the strife,
+         They should pledge to her cause fortune, honor, and life!
+         And follow wherever she beckons them on,
+         Till Freedom results in a victory won!
+
+         They came from the hillside, they came from the glen--
+         From the streets thronged with traffic and surging with men,
+         From loom and from ledger, from workshop and farm,
+         The fearless of heart, and the mighty of arm.
+         As the mountain-born torrents exultingly leap
+         When their ice-fetters melt, to the breast of the deep;
+         As the winds of the prairie, the waves of the sea,
+         They are coming--are coming--the Sons of the Free!
+
+         Our Leader is one who, with conquerless will,
+         Has climbed from the base to the brow of the hill;
+         Undaunted in peril, unwavering in strife,
+         He has fought a good fight in the Battle of Life,
+         And we trust as one who--come woe or come weal,
+         Is as firm as the rock and as true as the steel.
+         Right loyal and brave, with no stain on his breast,
+         Then, hurrah, boys, for honest "Old Abe of the West!"
+
+
+
+
+                    [Illustration: "HONEST ABE"
+
+                    A Campaign Cartoon of 1860]
+
+
+
+
+Madison Cawein was born at Louisville, Kentucky, on the 23rd of March,
+1865. Was educated in the city and country schools about Louisville
+and New Albany, Indiana. Graduated from the Male High School,
+Louisville, in 1886, and the following year published his first
+volume, called _Blooms of the Berry_. Since then he published some
+thirty-odd volumes of prose and poetry, both in the United States and
+England. He died in 1915.
+
+
+                  LINCOLN, 1809--FEBRUARY 12, 1909
+
+   _Read for the first time at the Lincoln centenary celebration,
+               Temple Adath Israel, Louisville, Ky._
+
+             Yea, this is he, whose name is synonym
+             Of all that's noble, though but lowly born;
+             Who took command upon a stormy morn
+             When few had hope. Although uncouth of limb,
+             Homely of face and gaunt, but never grim,
+             Beautiful he was with that which none may scorn--
+             With love of God and man and things forlorn,
+             And freedom mighty as the soul in him.
+             Large at the helm of state he leans and looms
+             With the grave, kindly look of those who die
+             Doing their duty. Stanch, unswervingly
+             Onward he steers beneath portentous glooms,
+             And overwhelming thunders of the sky,
+             Till, safe in port, he sees a people free.
+
+             Safe from the storm; the harbor-lights of Peace
+             Before his eyes; the burden of dark fears
+             Cast from him like a cloak; and in his ears
+             The heart-beat music of a great release;
+             Captain and pilot, back upon the seas,
+             Whose wrath he'd weathered, back he looks with tears,
+             Seeing no shadow of the Death that nears,
+             Stealthy and sure, with sudden agonies.
+             So let him stand, brother to every man,
+             Ready for toil or battle; he who held
+             A Nation's destinies within his hand;
+             Type of our greatness; first American,
+             By whom the hearts of all men are compelled,
+             And with whose name Freedom unites our land.
+
+             He needs no praise of us, who wrought so well,
+             Who has the Master's praise; who at his post
+             Stood to the last. Yet, now, from coast to coast,
+             Let memory of him peal like some great bell,
+             Of him as woodsman, workman, let it tell!
+             Of him as lawyer, statesman, without boast!
+             And for what qualities we love him most,
+             And recollections that no time can quell.
+             He needs no praise of us, yet let us praise,
+             Albeit his simple soul we may offend,
+             That liked not praise, being most diffident;
+             Still let us praise him, praise him in such ways
+             As his were, and in words that shall transcend
+             Marble, and outlast any monument.
+
+
+
+
+         [Illustration: LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT
+
+           Photograph by Hesler, Chicago, Illinois, 1860]
+
+
+
+
+Isaac Bassett Choate, born at South Otis Field, Maine, July 12, 1833.
+Bachelor of Arts, Bowdoin College, 1862. Author of _Wild Birds and
+Flowers_, 1895; _Wells of English_, 1892; _Obeyed the Camel Driver_,
+1899; _Apollo's Guest_, 1907.
+
+By special invitation from the faculty of the Alumni Association of
+said College he read the following poem at their annual banquet held
+on the centenary of Lincoln's birth, 1909:
+
+
+                       THE MATCHLESS LINCOLN
+
+             From out the ranks of common men he rose--
+               Himself of common elements, yet fine--
+             As in a wood of different species grows
+               Above all other trees the lordly pine,
+             Upon whose branches rest the winter snows,
+               Upon whose head warm beams of summer shine;
+             His was the heart to feel the people's woes
+               And his the hand to hold the builder's line;
+                 Strong, patient, wise and great,
+                 Born ruler of the State.
+
+             Among a mountain group one sovereign peak
+               Will tower aloft unto commanding height
+             As if more distant view abroad to seek--
+               First one to hail, last one to speed the light;
+             Those granite sides will snows of winter streak
+               E'en in the summer with their purest white;--
+             Silent, serene, that summit yet will speak
+               Of loftiest grandeur to the enraptured sight;
+                 So Lincoln's greatness shone
+                 Supreme, unmatched, alone.
+
+
+
+
+         [Illustration: LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT
+
+                Photograph, Springfield, Ill., 1860]
+
+
+
+
+Charlotte Becker was born and has always lived in Buffalo, New York.
+She was educated in private schools and in Europe, and has written
+poems for _Harper's Magazine_, _The Metropolitan_, _The American_,
+_Life_, etc., besides a number of songs which have been set to music
+by Amy Woodfords-Finden, C. B. Hawley, Whitney Coombs and others.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+         Gaunt, rough-hewn face, that bore the furrowed signs
+           Of days of conflict, nights of agony,
+         And still could soften to the gentler lines
+           Of one whose tenderness and truth went free
+         Beyond the pale of any small confines
+           To understand and help humanity.
+
+         Wise, steadfast mind, that grasped a people's need,
+           Counting nor pain nor sacrifice too great
+         To keep the noble purpose of his creed
+           Strong against all buffeting of Fate,
+         Though no least solace sprang of work or deed
+           For him, since triumph came at last--too late.
+
+         Brave, weary heart, that beat uncomforted
+           Beneath its heavy load of grief and care;
+         That tears of blood for every battle shed,
+           Yet called on mirth to help his comrades bear
+         The waiting hours of anguish, and that sped
+           With loyal haste each breath of balm to share.
+
+         Only his people's griefs were his; no part
+           Had he within their joy; nor his the toll
+         To know the love that made rebellion start,
+           Spurred hosts unnumbered to a higher goal;
+         That his great soul should cleanse a nation's heart,
+           His martyred heart awake a nation's soul.
+
+
+
+
+             [Illustration: CABIN OF LINCOLN'S PARENTS
+
+                  on Goose-Nest Prairie, Illinois]
+
+
+The last home of the parents of Lincoln. Built by his father, Thomas,
+in 1831, near Farmington, Coles Co., Ill. The father died here in 1851
+and the step-mother, Sarah Bush Lincoln, in 1869. After Lincoln was
+elected President in 1860, and before leaving for Washington to be
+inaugurated, he visited his mother in this cabin for the last time. As
+he was leaving her, she made a prediction of his tragic death. With
+arms about his neck, with tears streaming down her cheeks, she
+declared it was the last time she would ever see him alive, and it
+proved to be so.
+
+Lincoln once said, "I was told that I never would make a lawyer if I
+did not understand what 'demonstrate' means. I left my situation in
+Springfield, went to my father's house, and stayed there till I could
+give any proposition in the six books of Euclid at sight. I there
+found out what demonstrate means."
+
+
+
+
+      [Illustration: LINCOLN HOMESTEAD, SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS]
+
+
+On Monday, February 11, 1861, Mr. Lincoln and family in company with a
+party left Springfield, Illinois, for Washington, D. C. A light rain
+mixed with snow was falling at the time which made the occasion a
+somewhat gloomy one. Mr. Lincoln appeared on the rear platform of the
+car where he bade farewell to his neighbors in the following address:
+
+"My friends, no one not in my position can appreciate the sadness I
+feel at this parting. To this people I owe all that I am. Here I have
+lived more than a quarter of a century. Here my children were born,
+and here one of them lies buried.
+
+"I know not how soon I shall see you again. A duty devolves upon me
+which is greater, perhaps, than that which has devolved upon any other
+man since the days of Washington. He never would have succeeded except
+for the aid of divine Providence, upon which he at all times relied.
+
+"I feel that I cannot succeed without the same divine aid which
+sustained him; and on the same Almighty Being I place my reliance for
+support, and I hope you, my friends, will pray that I may receive the
+divine assistance, without which I cannot succeed, but with which
+success is certain. Again, I bid you an affectionate farewell."
+
+Mr. Lincoln thought that there is a time to joke and pray; and if, as
+his detractors affirm, he joked all the way to Washington, if he did
+not pray also (as we believe he did, and fervently, too) he at least
+desired the prayers of others, as the circumstances recorded in the
+following poem will show. It is from the pen of a lady of
+Philadelphia, Mrs. Anna Bache.
+
+
+                    LINCOLN AT SPRINGFIELD, 1861
+
+               "My friends,--elected by your choice,
+               From the long-cherished home I go,
+               Endeared by Heaven-permitted joys,
+               Sacred by Heaven-permitted woe,
+               I go, to take the helm of State,
+               While loud the waves of faction roar,
+               And by His aid, supremely great,
+               Upon whose will all tempests wait,
+                 I hope to steer the bark to shore.
+               Not since the days when Washington
+               To battle led our patriots on,
+               Have clouds so dark above us met,
+               Have dangers dire so close beset.
+               And _he_ had never saved the land
+               By deeds in human wisdom planned,
+               But that with Christian faith he sought
+               Guidance and blessing, where he ought.
+               Like him, I seek for aid divine,
+               His faith, his hope, his trust, are mine.
+               Pray for me, friends, that God may make
+                 My judgment clear, my duty plain;
+               For if the Lord no wardship take,
+                 The watchmen mount the towers in vain."
+
+               He ceased; and many a manly breast
+                 Panted with strong emotion's swell,
+               And many a lip the sob suppressed,
+                 And tears from manly eyelids fell.
+               And hats came off, and heads were bowed,
+                 As Lincoln slowly moved away;
+               And then, heart-spoken, from the crowd,
+               In accents earnest, clear, and loud,
+                 Came one brief sentence, "We _will_ pray!"
+
+
+
+
+       [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND HIS SECRETARIES,
+                    JOHN G. NICOLAY AND JOHN HAY
+
+          Photographed at Springfield, Illinois, in 1861]
+
+
+
+
+On the 22nd of February, 1861, Washington's birthday, on his journey
+to Washington, to assume the Presidency, Mr. Lincoln raised a new flag
+over Independence Hall, then went inside and spoke as follows:--
+
+"I am filled with deep emotion at finding myself standing in this
+place, where were collected together the wisdom, the patriotism, the
+devotion to principle from which sprang the institutions under which
+we live. You have kindly suggested to me that in my hands is the task
+of restoring peace to our distracted country. I can say in return,
+sirs, that all the political sentiments I entertain have been drawn,
+so far as I have been able to draw them, from the sentiments which
+originated in and were given to the world from this hall. I have never
+had a feeling, politically, that did not spring from the sentiments
+embodied in the Declaration of Independence. I have often pondered
+over the dangers which were incurred by the men who assembled here and
+framed and adopted that Declaration. I have pondered over the toils
+that were endured by the officers and soldiers of the army who
+achieved that independence. I have often inquired of myself what great
+principle or idea it was that kept this Confederacy so long together.
+It was not the mere matter of separation of the colonies from the
+motherland, but that sentiment in the Declaration of Independence
+which gave liberty, not alone to the people of this country, but hope
+to all the world, for all future time. It was that which gave promise
+that in due time the weight would be lifted from the shoulders of all
+men and that all should have an equal chance. This is the sentiment
+embodied in the Declaration of Independence.
+
+"Now, my friends, can this country be saved on that basis? If it can,
+I will consider myself one of the happiest men in the world if I can
+help to save it. But if this country cannot be saved without giving up
+that principle, I was about to say I would rather be assassinated on
+this spot than surrender it."
+
+Four years and two months later, April 22, 1865, his body lay,
+assassinated, on the very spot where he had made the above remarks,
+then being taken to Springfield, Illinois, for burial.
+
+
+          [Illustration: INDEPENDENCE HALL, PHILADELPHIA]
+
+
+
+
+Henry Wilson Clendenin, born at Schellsburg, Pennsylvania, August 1,
+1837; educated in private schools and by tutors. Married Mary E. Morey
+of Monmouth, Illinois, October 23, 1877; to them were born five
+children, four of whom survive: George M., manager _Illinois State
+Register_; Clarence R., Deputy Internal Revenue Collector,
+Springfield, Illinois; Harry F., proofreader, _Illinois State
+Register_, and Marie, Assistant Instructor Physical Education, State
+Normal University, Normal, Illinois. He was a private of Company I,
+Twentieth Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, in the Civil War. Began
+newspaper work on _Burlington_ (Iowa) _Hawkeye_. Afterwards telegraph
+editor _Peoria Transcript_, 1858; telegraph editor _Burlington
+Gazette_, 1863, and editor and proprietor, _Keokuk Daily
+Constitution_, 1876-1881; since that year was editor and president of
+the _Illinois State Register_. Postmaster, Springfield 1886-90. Member
+Illinois State Historical Society, The Jefferson Association, Grand
+Army of the Republic and Sons of the American Revolution. Director of
+Lincoln Library at Springfield, Illinois, for ten years. Member of the
+First Congregational Church of that city.
+
+This sonnet was written by Mr. Clendenin, in Philadelphia, February
+22, 1861, after witnessing Lincoln hoist the flag over Independence
+Hall.
+
+
+                  LINCOLN CALLED TO THE PRESIDENCY
+
+           Hark to the sound that speedeth o'er the land!
+           Behold the sword in fratricidal hand!
+           'Tis duty calls thee, Lincoln, and thy trust
+           Demands that all thy acts be wise and just.
+           No idle task to thee has been assigned,
+           But work that's worthy of a giant mind--
+           And on the issue hangs the nation's fame
+           As a free people who deserve the name.
+           So, walk thou in the way the fathers trod;
+           Be true to freedom, country, and to God;
+           Then truth will triumph, treason be undone,
+           And thou be hailed the second Washington.
+           The first, the Father of his country--thou,
+           Its Saviour. Bind the laurel on thy brow.
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: LINCOLN IN 1858
+
+           From a photograph by S. M. Fassett of Chicago]
+
+
+
+
+An act of Congress July 9, 1790, established the District of Columbia
+as the National Capital, and provided that prior to the first Monday
+of December, 1800, the Commissioners should have finished a suitable
+building for the sessions of Congress. The site of the Capitol was
+included in L'Enfant's plan for the city. The cornerstone was laid
+September 18, 1793, with Masonic rites, George Washington officiating.
+The wings of the central building were completed in 1811, and were
+partially burned by the British, in 1814. The entire central building
+was finished in 1827. The cornerstone of the extension was laid by
+President Fillmore, July 4, 1851. The extensions were first occupied
+by Congress 1857 and 1859. Up to that time the Senate Chamber was the
+present Supreme Court Room, and the Hall of Representatives was the
+present National Statuary Hall. The dome was finished during the
+administration of President Lincoln. The total cost of the Capitol
+building and grounds was about thirty million dollars. The remains of
+President Lincoln were escorted from the White House to the Capitol at
+three o'clock P.M., on the 19th of April, 1865. The number in the
+procession was estimated at forty thousand, and that many more were
+spectators along the route. The burial service was conducted by Dr.
+Gurley. The special train bearing the remains left at 8 A.M., Friday,
+April 21, for Springfield, Illinois, stopping at Baltimore, Maryland;
+Harrisburg and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; Albany and Buffalo, New
+York; Cleveland and Columbus, Ohio; Indianapolis, Indiana; Chicago,
+Illinois, reaching Springfield, Illinois, the 3d of May, and was
+buried the following day. The body lay in state in all of the above
+cities.
+
+
+                     [Illustration: THE CAPITOL
+
+     The Second Inauguration of Abraham Lincoln as President of the
+   United States, in front of the Capitol, Washington, March 4, 1865]
+
+
+
+
+Edwin Markham, born at Oregon City, Oregon, April 23, 1852; settled in
+California in 1857, and worked there during his boyhood, principally
+as a blacksmith. Worked his way through the San Jose Normal School and
+Santa Rosa College. Became a writer of stories and verse for papers
+and magazines, and principal and superintendent of California schools.
+Was the author of _The Man With the Hoe, and Other Poems_ (1899); _The
+Man With the Hoe, with Notes by the Author_ (1900); _The End of the
+Century_ (1899); _Lincoln, the Great Commoner_ (1900); _The Mighty
+Hundred Years; Lincoln and Other Poems_ (1901); _The Shoes of
+Happiness_ (1915). His _Man With the Hoe_ was extensively republished
+and gave him wide fame.
+
+
+                   LINCOLN THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE
+
+            When the Norn-Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour,
+            Greatening and darkening as it hurried on,
+            She bent the strenuous Heavens and came down
+            To make a man to meet the mortal need.
+            She took the tried clay of the common road--
+            Clay warm yet with the genial heat of Earth,
+            Dashed through it all a strain of prophecy;
+            Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff.
+            It was a stuff to wear for centuries,
+            A man that matched the mountains, and compelled
+            The stars to look our way and honor us.
+
+            The color of the ground was in him, the red earth;
+            The tang and odor of the primal things--
+            The rectitude and patience of the rocks;
+            The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn;
+            The courage of the bird that dares the sea;
+            The justice of the rain that loves all leaves;
+            The pity of snow that hides all scars;
+            The loving-kindness of the wayside well;
+            The tolerance and equity of light
+            That gives as freely to the shrinking weed
+            As to the great oak flaring to the wind--
+            To the grave's low hill as to the Matterhorn
+            That shoulders out the sky.
+
+            And so he came.
+            From prairie cabin up to Capitol,
+            One fair ideal led our chieftain on.
+            Forevermore he burned to do his deed
+            With the fine stroke and gesture of a king.
+            He built the rail pile as he built the State,
+            Pouring his splendid strength through every blow,
+            The conscience of him testing every stroke,
+            To make his deed the measure of a man.
+
+            So came the Captain with the mighty heart;
+            And when the step of earthquake shook the house,
+            Wresting the rafters from their ancient hold,
+            He held the ridge-pole up and spiked again
+            The rafters of the Home. He held his place--
+            Held the long purpose like a growing tree--
+            Held on through blame and faltered not at praise,
+            And when he fell, in whirlwind, he went down
+            As when a kingly cedar, green with boughs,
+            Goes down with a great shout upon the hills,
+            And leaves a lonesome place against the sky.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: THE WHITE HOUSE]
+
+
+The corner-stone was laid by George Washington on the 13th of October,
+1792. The mansion was first occupied by President John Adams in the
+year 1800, also by every succeeding President. British troops burned
+it in 1814, in President Madison's term. It was the first public
+building erected in Washington. It is constructed of Virginia
+freestone, and is 170 feet in length, 80 feet in depth, and consists
+of a rustic basement, two stories and an attic.
+
+
+
+
+John Vance Cheney, born Groveland, New York, December 29, 1848.
+Graduated Temple Hill Academy, Genesee, New York, at seventeen.
+Assistant principal there two years later. Practiced law, New York,
+1875-6; librarian Free Public Library, San Francisco, 1887-94;
+Newberry Library, Chicago, 1894-1909; author, _The Old Doctor_, 1881;
+and a number of poems, 1887-1911.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+               The hour was on us; where the man?
+               The fateful sands unfaltering ran,
+                 And up the way of tears
+                 He came into the years.
+
+               Our pastoral captain. Forth he came,
+               As one that answers to his name;
+                 Nor dreamed how high his charge,
+                 His work how fair and large,
+
+               To set the stones back in the wall
+               Lest the divided house should fall,
+                 And peace from men depart,
+                 Hope and the childlike heart.
+
+               We looked on him; "'Tis he," we said,
+               "Come crownless and unheralded,
+                 The shepherd who will keep
+                 The flocks, will fold the sheep."
+
+               Unknightly, yes: yet 'twas the mien
+               Presaging the immortal scene,
+                 Some battles of His wars
+                 Who sealeth up the stars.
+
+               Not he would take the past between
+               His hands, wipe valor's tablets clean,
+                 Commanding greatness wait
+                 Till he stands at the gate;
+
+               Not he would cramp to one small head
+               The awful laurels of the dead,
+                 Time's mighty vintage cup,
+                 And drink all honor up.
+
+               No flutter of the banners bold
+               Borne by the lusty sons of old,
+                 The haughty conquerors
+                 Set forward to their wars;
+
+               Not his their blare, their pageantries,
+               Their goal, their glory, was not his;
+                 Humbly he came to keep
+                 The flocks, to fold the sheep.
+
+               The need comes not without the man;
+               The prescient hours unceasing ran,
+                 And up the way of tears
+                 He came into the years.
+
+               Our pastoral captain, skilled to crook
+               The spear into the pruning hook,
+                 The simple, kindly man,
+                 Lincoln, American.
+
+
+
+
+              [Illustration: WHERE LINCOLN WORSHIPPED
+
+      New York Avenue Presbyterian Church, Washington, D. C.]
+
+
+President Lincoln and family attended this church during his
+Administration. The pew that they occupied is still preserved in its
+black walnut trimmings, though the rest of the sanctuary has been
+refurnished.
+
+
+
+
+Lyman Whitney Allen, born at St. Louis, November 19, 1854. Bachelor of
+Arts, Washington University, St. Louis, 1878; later Master of Arts,
+Princeton Theological, 1878-80; Post-graduate studies at Princeton
+University; (D.D., University of Wooster, 1897). Ordained Presbyterian
+Minister, 1882; stated supply Kimmswick, Missouri, 1881-3; DeSoto,
+Missouri, 1883-5; Pastor-elect Carondelet Church, St. Louis, Missouri,
+1885-9; Pastor South Park Church, Newark, New Jersey, since 1889.
+Director Board of Home Missions, Presbyterian; Chaplain New Jersey
+Society D. A. R.; Member Society American Authors; New Jersey Society
+S. A. R. Club, Princeton (New York). Has written many poems and
+articles, including the New York _Herald's_ $1,000 prize poem which
+was published in 1895.
+
+Rev. Dr. Lyman Whitney Allen of Newark, New Jersey, had for his guest
+Chief Justice Wendell Phillips Stafford of the Supreme Court of the
+District of Columbia. Judge Stafford addressed the Men's Club of Dr.
+Allen's church one evening, and next day, in company with his host,
+visited the Lincoln statue on the court-house plaza. On the train that
+bore him back to Washington that day, Judge Stafford wrote the poem on
+the Statue. (See page 236).
+
+A few weeks thereafter Dr. Allen visited his friend, the judge, in
+Washington, and they made a little pilgrimage to the New York Avenue
+Presbyterian church. In the Lincoln pew Dr. Allen sat and meditated,
+and on his way back he wrote the verses.
+
+"I had seen the Lincoln statue many times," says Dr. Allen, "but,
+somehow, I could not get started on the poem I knew could be written
+around it." And Judge Stafford wrote to his friend in Newark: "I had
+seen the Lincoln pew a score of times without poetic result, yet you
+come on a one-day visit and carry away the inspiration needed."
+
+
+                   LINCOLN'S CHURCH IN WASHINGTON
+
+            Within the historic church both eye and soul
+            Perceived it. 'Twas the pew where Lincoln sat--
+            The only Lincoln God hath given to men--
+            Olden among the modern seats of prayer,
+            Dark like the 'sixties, place and past akin.
+            All else has changed, but this remains the same,
+            A sanctuary in a sanctuary.
+
+            Where Lincoln prayed! What passion had his soul--
+            Mixt faith and anguish melting into prayer
+            Upon the burning altar of God's fane,
+            A nation's altar even as his own.
+
+            Where Lincoln prayed! Such worshipers as he
+            Make thin ranks down the ages. Wouldst thou know
+            His spirit suppliant? Then must thou feel
+            War's fiery baptism, taste hate's bitter cup,
+            Spend similar sweat of blood vicarious,
+            And sound the cry, "If it be possible!"
+            From stricken heart in new Gethsemane.
+
+            Who saw him there are gone, as he is gone;
+            The pew remains, with what God gave him there,
+            And all the world through him. So let it be--
+            One of the people's shrines.
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: LINCOLN IN 1858
+
+       From a photograph in possession of Mr. Stuart Brown of
+                       Springfield, Illinois]
+
+
+
+
+John James Piatt was born in Indiana, March 1, 1835. His earliest
+schooling was received at Rising Sun, in Indiana. At the age of
+fourteen he was set to learn the printing business in the office of
+the _Ohio State Journal_ at Columbus, Ohio, for a brief period, and at
+the age of eighteen years first began to write verses. His poems were
+chiefly on themes connected with his native West.
+
+
+                           SONNET IN 1862
+
+            Stern be the Pilot in the dreadful hour
+            When a great nation, like a ship at sea
+            With the wroth breakers whitening at her lee,
+            Feels her last shudder if her helmsman cower;
+            A godlike manhood be his mighty dower!
+              Such and so gifted, Lincoln, may'st thou be
+              With thy high wisdom's low simplicity
+            And awful tenderness of voted power.
+            From our hot records then thy name shall stand
+              On Time's calm ledger out of passionate days--
+            With the pure debt of gratitude begun,
+              And only paid in never-ending praise--
+            One of the many of a mighty land,
+            Made by God's providence the Anointed One.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+     [Signed:  For Mrs. Lucy G. Speed, from whose pious hand I
+               accepted the present of an Oxford Bible twenty
+               years ago.
+
+               Washington, D. C. October 3, 1861
+
+                                                    A. Lincoln ]]
+
+
+
+
+Lincoln once said: "When any church will inscribe over its altar, as
+its sole qualification for membership, the Saviour's condensed
+statement of the substance of both law and gospel, 'Thou shalt love
+the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul and with all
+thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself', that church will I join with
+all my heart and all my soul."
+
+
+                     LINCOLN, SOLDIER OF CHRIST
+
+                _From Macmillan's Magazine, England_
+
+                Lincoln! When men would name a man
+                  Just, unperturbed, magnanimous,
+                Tried in the lowest seat of all,
+                  Tried in the chief seat of the house--
+
+                Lincoln! When men would name a man
+                  Who wrought the great work of his age,
+                Who fought, and fought the noblest fight,
+                  And marshalled it from stage to stage.
+
+                Victorious, out of dusk and dark,
+                  And into dawn and on till day,
+                Most humble when the p�ans rang,
+                  Least rigid when the enemy lay
+
+                Prostrated for his feet to tread--
+                  This name of Lincoln will they name,
+                A name revered, a name of scorn,
+                  Of scorn to sundry, not to fame.
+
+                Lincoln; the man who freed the slave;
+                  Lincoln, whom never self enticed;
+                Slain Lincoln, worthy found to die
+                  A soldier of the captain Christ.
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: LINCOLN IN 1860
+
+  Photographed by Brady at the time of the "Cooper Institute Speech,"
+                          February, 1860]
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+                 Photograph by Gardner, Washington]
+
+
+
+
+Rev. Hamilton Schuyler was born in Oswego, New York, 1862, and is a
+son of the late Anthony Schuyler, who was for many years rector of
+Grace Church, Orange, New Jersey. He belongs to the well-known family
+of that name, being seventh in descent from Philip Peterse Schuyler,
+founder of the family, who came to this country from Holland and
+settled in Albany in 1650. He studied at Oxford University, England,
+and the General Theological Seminary of New York. Has held positions
+in Calvary Church, New York; Trinity Church, Newport, Rhode Island,
+and was for several years dean of the Cathedral at Davenport, Iowa,
+under the late Bishop Perry. He began his rectorship at Trenton in
+February, 1900. Has written extensively for journals and periodicals.
+Among the bound publications which bear his name as author are _A
+Fisher of Men_, a biography of the late Churchill Satterlee, priest
+and missionary, son of the first Bishop of Washington; _Studies in
+English Church History_; _The Intellectual Crisis Confronting
+Christianity_; and _A History of Trinity Church, Trenton_. In 1900 his
+poem, _The Incapable_, won a prize of two hundred dollars offered by
+the late Collis P. Huntington through the _New York Sun_, for the best
+poems antithetical to Edwin Markham's _Man With the Hoe_. A volume of
+Mr. Schuyler's verses, under the title _Within the Cloister's Shadow_,
+was published in 1914.
+
+
+                   A CHARACTERIZATION OF LINCOLN
+
+                    _From Lincoln Centenary Ode_
+
+                   Tall, ungainly, gaunt of limb,
+                   Rudely Nature molded him.
+                   Awkward form and homely face,
+                   Owing naught to outward grace;
+                   Yet, behind the rugged mien
+                   Were a mind and soul serene,
+                   And in deep-set eyes there shone
+                   Genius that was all his own.
+                   Humor quaint with pathos blent
+                   To his speech attraction lent;
+                   Telling phrase and homely quip
+                   Falling lightly from his lip.
+                   Eloquent of tongue, and clear,
+                   Logical, devoid of fear,
+                   Making plain whate'er was dense
+                   By the light of common sense.
+                   Tender as the bravest be,
+                   Pitiful in high degree,
+                   Wrathful only where offence
+                   Led to grievous consequence;
+                   Hating sham and empty show;
+                   Chivalrous to beaten foe;
+                   Ever patient in his ways;
+                   Cheerful in the darkest days;
+                   Not a demi-god or saint
+                   Such as fancy loves to paint,
+                   But a truly human man
+                   Built on the heroic plan.
+
+
+
+
+                 [Illustration: EMANCIPATION GROUP]
+
+
+Moses Kimball, a citizen of Boston, presented to the city a duplicate
+of the Freedman's Memorial Statue erected in Lincoln Park, Washington,
+D. C., after a design by Thomas Ball. The group, which stands in Park
+Square, represents the figure of a slave from whose limbs the broken
+fetters have fallen, kneeling in gratitude at the feet of Lincoln. The
+verses which follow were written for the unveiling of the statue,
+December 9, 1879.
+
+
+John Greenleaf Whittier, born December 17, 1807, in Haverhill,
+Massachusetts. He lived on a farm until he reached the age of
+eighteen, working a little at shoemaking and also writing poetry for
+the _Haverhill Gazette_. Later he became editor of a number of papers,
+and his poems in after life were full of patriotism and the love of
+human freedom, all of which attained a strong hold on the hearts of
+the people. He would have prevented war, if possible, with honor, but
+when war came he wrote in support of the Union cause, displaying no
+bitterness, and when the conflict was over he was most liberal and
+conciliatory. He was one of the most popular of poets. He died
+September 7, 1892.
+
+
+                       THE EMANCIPATION GROUP
+
+                  Amidst thy sacred effigies
+                    Of old renown give place,
+                  O city. Freedom-loved! to his
+                    Whose hand unchained a race.
+
+                  Take the worn frame, that rested not
+                    Save in a martyr's grave;
+                  The care-lined face, that none forgot,
+                    Bent to the kneeling slave.
+
+                  Let man be free! The mighty word
+                    He spoke was not his own;
+                  An impulse from the Highest stirred
+                    These chiseled lips alone.
+
+                  The cloudy sign, the fiery guide,
+                    Along his pathway ran,
+                  And Nature, through his voice, denied
+                    The ownership of man.
+
+                  We rest in peace where these sad eyes
+                    Saw peril, strife, and pain;
+                  His was the Nation's sacrifice,
+                    And ours the priceless gain.
+
+                  O symbol of God's will on earth
+                    As it is done above
+                  Bear witness to the cost and worth
+                    Of justice and of love!
+
+                  Stand in thy place and testify
+                    To coming ages long,
+                  That truth is stronger than a lie,
+                    And righteousness than wrong.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+           Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1863]
+
+
+
+
+Theron Brown, born at Willimantic, Connecticut, April 29, 1832.
+Graduated at Hartford Theological Seminary in 1858; Newton Theological
+Institution, 1859. Ordained in Baptist Ministry, 1859; Pastor South
+Framingham, Massachusetts, 1859-62; Canton, Massachusetts, 1863-70; on
+staff _Youth's Companion_ since 1870. Author various juvenile stories;
+_Life Songs_ (poems), 1894; _Nameless Women of the Bible_, 1904; _The
+Story of the Hymns and Tunes_, 1907; _Under the Mulberry Tree_ (a
+novel), 1909; _The Birds of God_, 1911. He died February 14, 1914.
+
+
+                           THE LIBERATOR
+
+                When, scornful of a nation's rest,
+                  The angry horns of Discord blew
+                There came a giant from the West,
+                  And found a giant's work to do.
+
+                He saw, in sorrow--and in wrath--
+                  A mighty empire in its strait,
+                Torn like a planet in its path
+                  To warring hemisphere of hate.
+
+                Between the thunder-clouds he stood;
+                  He harked to Ruin's battle-drum,
+                And cried in patriot hardihood,
+                  "Why do I wait? My hour has come!
+
+                "Was it my fate, my lot, my woe
+                  To be the Ruler of the land,
+                Nor own my oath that long ago
+                  I swore upon this heart and hand?
+
+                "That vow, like barb from bowman's string,
+                  Shall pierce sedition's secret plea:
+                God grant the bloodless blow shall sting
+                  Till brother's quarrels cease to be!
+
+                "Should once the sudden wound provoke
+                  New strife in anger's zone
+                The clash may be the penal stroke
+                  That makes a new Republic one."
+
+                He wrote his Message--clear as light,
+                  And bolder than a king's command--
+                And when war's whirlwinds spent their might
+                  There was no bondman in the land.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+           Photograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D. C.,
+                           January 24, 1863]
+
+
+
+
+                        TO PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+                         _January 1, 1863_
+
+
+          Lincoln, that with thy steadfast truth the sand
+          Of men and time and circumstance dost sway!
+          The slave-cloud dwindles on this golden day,
+          And over all the pestilent southern land,
+          Breathless, the dark expectant millions stand,
+            To watch the northern sun rise on its way,
+            Cleaving the stormy distance--every ray
+          Sword-bright, sword-sharp, in God's invisible hand.
+
+          Better with this great end, partial defeat,
+            And jibings of the ignorant worldly-wise,
+              Than laud and triumph won with shameful blows.
+          The dead Past lies in its dead winding-sheet;
+            The living Present droops with tearful eyes;
+              But far beyond the awaiting Future glows.
+
+                      _Edmund Ollier, in London (Eng.) Morning Star._
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+               Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C.]
+
+
+
+
+Charles G. Foltz was born at West Winfield, Herkimer County, New York,
+September 9, 1837. His parents were Benjamin Foltz, a Presbyterian
+clergyman, and Jane Harwood Foltz. In 1846 the family moved to
+Cuyahoga County, Ohio. In 1849 to Wisconsin, first to Rock County,
+then to Walworth County, and in 1854 to Burlington, Racine County,
+where he has since resided.
+
+
+                        ON FREEDOM'S SUMMIT
+
+            On freedom's summit, Oh, how grand
+            Stood Lincoln ruler of our land,
+              As he issued the sublime command
+              Let the enslaved be free.
+            Ere long he saw the Bondmen rise;
+            Ere long as Freedmen seize the prize,
+              The precious boon of liberty.
+
+            A backward glance he cast
+            Into the valley of the past,
+              Amid the shade and gloom
+              Discerning slavery's tomb.
+            Out from the depths his upturned eyes
+            Beheld the fleeing clouds the brighter skies.
+              Upon him shone a glory like the sun,
+              Reflecting "peace toward all, malice toward none."
+
+            As thus he filled his high exalted place,
+            The brave emancipator of a race,
+              He thought of the fierce struggle and the victory
+              And humbly deemed himself to be
+              Only the instrument of a Divine decree.
+            Rejoicing in the faith of brighter coming days
+            His "fervent prayers" were merged in those of praise.
+
+            Like unto psalmists of the olden time
+              His uttered thoughts inspired the nation's song,
+            Throughout the land the chorus rose sublime,
+              The exultant triumph of the right o'er wrong.
+
+            "Behold, what God the Lord hath wrought,"
+            More than we asked, or hoped, or thought.
+              Through the "Red sea" of blood and carnage
+              He brought our nation free of bondage.
+            With Moses sing, yea shout O North;
+            With Miriam answer back O South:
+              That "He hath triumphed gloriously."
+
+                  .       .       .       .       .
+
+           Oh why the sudden blotting out of light?
+           The cloud of sorrow, dark as Plutonian night,
+           That cast its lengthening shadow o'er the land;
+           Changing to funeral dirge the choral grand.
+             Swift as the typhoon's breath--
+             The harbinger of death--
+               The cruel deed of hate
+           Swept the grand chief away.
+           Unto this day, and ever aye,
+               The nation mourns her martyr's fate.
+
+
+
+
+               [Illustration: Lincoln at Gettysburg]
+
+
+                ADDRESS DELIVERED AT THE DEDICATION
+                   OF THE CEMETERY AT GETTYSBURG
+
+
+Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this
+continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the
+proposition that all men are created equal.
+
+Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation,
+or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are
+met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a
+portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave
+their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and
+proper that we should do this.
+
+But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate--we cannot consecrate--we
+cannot hallow--this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who
+struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add
+or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say
+here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the
+living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they
+who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us
+to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us,--that from
+these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which
+they gave their last full measure of devotion--that we here highly
+resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain--that this nation,
+under God, shall have a new birth of freedom--and that government of
+the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the
+earth.
+
+  November 19, 1863.                             ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
+
+
+"Undoubtedly there were many in the audience who fully appreciated the
+beauty of the President's address, and many of those who read it on
+the following day perceived its wondrous character; but it is apparent
+that its full force and grandeur were not generally recognized then,
+either by its auditors or its readers. Not until the war had ended and
+the great leader had fallen did the nation realize that this speech
+had given to Gettysburg another claim to immortality and to American
+eloquence its highest glory."--From the monograph on the Gettysburg
+Address, by Maj. William H. Lambert.
+
+
+
+
+Bayard Taylor, born in Kennett Square, Chester County, Pennsylvania,
+on the 11th of January, 1825. Died in Berlin, Germany, on the 19th of
+December, 1878. His boyhood was passed on a farm near Kennett. He
+learned to read at four, began to write at an early age, and from his
+twelfth year wrote poems, novels and historical essays, but mostly
+poems. In 1837 the family moved to Westchester, and there and at
+Unionville he had five years of high-school training. His first poem
+printed was contributed to the _Saturday Evening Post_, in 1841, and
+those to the _New York Tribune_ from abroad, written in 1844, were
+widely read and shortly after his return were collected and published
+in _Views Afoot, or Europe Seen With Knapsack and Staff_. With a
+friend he bought a printing office in 1846, and began to publish the
+_Phoenixville Pioneer_, but it was as a poet that he excelled above
+most other vocations.
+
+
+                           GETTYSBURG ODE
+
+          After the eyes that looked, the lips that spake
+          Here, from the shadows of impending death,
+          Those words of solemn breath,
+              What voice may fitly break
+          The silence, doubly hallowed, left by him?
+          We can but bow the head, with eyes grown dim,
+              And, as a Nation's litany, repeat
+          The phrase his martyrdom hath made complete,
+          Noble as then, but now more sadly sweet:
+          "Let us, the Living, rather dedicate
+          Ourselves to the unfinished work, which they
+          Thus far advanced so nobly on its way,
+              And saved the periled State!
+          Let us, upon this field where they, the brave,
+          Their last full measure of devotion gave,
+          Highly resolve they have not died in vain!--
+          That, under God, the Nation's later birth
+          Of freedom, and the people's gain
+          Of their own Sovereignty, shall never wane
+          And perish from the circle of the earth!"
+          From such a perfect text, shall Song aspire
+          To light her faded fire,
+              And into wandering music turn
+          Its virtue, simple, sorrowful, and stern?
+          His voice all elegies anticipated;
+              For, whatsoe'er the strain,
+              We hear that one refrain:
+          "We consecrate ourselves to them, the Consecrated!"
+
+
+
+
+    [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND HIS SON THOMAS ("TAD")]
+
+
+
+
+Benjamin Franklin Taylor, born at Lowville, New York, July 19, 1819.
+He was for several years connected with the _Chicago Evening Journal_.
+He wrote _Pictures of Life in Camp and Field_ (1871); _The World on
+Wheels_, etc. (1874); _Songs of Yesterday_ (1877); _Between the Gates_
+(1878); _Summer Savory_, etc. (1879); _Dulce Domum_ (1884);
+_Theophilus Trent_, a novel (1887); etc. Among his best known poems
+are: _Isle of the Long Ago_, _Rhymes of the River_, and _The Old
+Village Choir_.
+
+
+                     LINCOLN'S SECOND INAUGURAL
+
+     The following is an excerpt from a _Centennial Poem_ read by
+     B. F. Taylor on Decoration Day (May 30, 1876), on the
+     occasion of the centennial celebration by the Department of
+     the Potomac, Grand Army of the Republic, at Arlington
+     Cemetery, Washington, D. C.
+
+          They see the pilgrims to the Springfield tomb--
+            Be proud today, oh, portico of gloom!--
+            Where lies the man in solitary state
+            Who never caused a tear but when he died
+          And set the flags around the world half-mast--
+          The gentle Tribune and so grandly great
+            That e'en the utter avarice of Death
+            That claims the world, and will not be denied,
+            Could only rob him of his mortal breath.
+          How strange the splendor, though the man be past!
+          His noblest inspiration was his last.
+          The statues of the Capitol are there.
+          As when he stood upon the marble stair
+          And said those words so tender, true and just,
+          A royal psalm that took mankind on trust--
+          Those words that will endure and he in them,
+          While May wears flowers upon her broidered hem,
+          And all that marble snows and drifts to dust:
+          "Fondly do we hope, fervently we pray
+          That this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away:
+          With charity for all, with malice toward none,
+            With firmness in the right
+            As God shall give us light,
+          Let us finish the work already begun,
+          Care for the battle sons, the Nation's wounds to bind,
+          Care for the helpless ones that they will leave behind,
+          Cherish it we will, achieve it if we can,
+          A just and lasting peace, forever unto man!"
+          Amid old Europe's rude and thundering years,
+            When people strove as battle-clouds are driven,
+          One calm white angel of a day appears
+            In every year a gift direct from Heaven,
+          Wherein, from setting sun to setting sun
+          No thought of deed of bitterness was done.
+          "Day of the Truce of God!" Be this day ours,
+            Until perpetual peace flows like a river
+          And hopes as fragrant as these tribute flowers
+            Fill all the land forever and forever!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+              Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C.]
+
+
+
+
+Hermann Hagedorn, born in New York, July 18, 1882. Instructor in
+English at Harvard in 1909-1911. Wrote several one-act plays which
+were produced by the Harvard Dramatic Club, and by clubs of other
+colleges. Author of _The Silver Blade_ (a play in verse), _The Woman
+of Corinth_, _A Troop of the Guard_ and other poems.
+
+
+                         OH, PATIENT EYES!
+
+           Oh, patient eyes! oh, bleeding, mangled heart!
+           Oh, hero, whose wide soul, defying chains,
+           Swept at each army's head,
+               Swept to the charge and bled,
+           Gathering in one too sorrow-laden heart
+             All woes, all pains;
+             The anguish of the trusted hope that wanes,
+           The soldier's wound, the lonely mourner's smart.
+           He knew the noisy horror of the fight,
+           From dawn to dusk and through the hideous night
+             He heard the hiss of bullets, the shrill scream
+               Of the wide-arching shell,
+             Scattering at Gettysburg or by Potomac's stream,
+           Like summer flowers, the pattering rain of death;
+           With every breath,
+             He tasted battle and in every dream,
+               Trailing like mists from gaping walls of hell,
+               He heard the thud of heroes as they fell.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+                        Photograph by Brady]
+
+
+
+
+Margaret Elizabeth Sangster, born at New Rochelle, New York, February
+22, 1838. Educated privately, chiefly in New York. Became contributor
+to leading periodicals; also editor of _Hearth and Home_, 1871-73;
+_Christian at Work_, 1873-79; _The Christian Intelligencer_ since
+1879; postmistress _Harper's Young People_, 1882-89; editor _Harper's
+Bazar_, 1889-99; staff contributor _Christian Herald_ since 1894;
+_Ladies' Home Journal_, 1899-1905; _Woman's Home Companion_ since
+1905. Author _Poems of the Household_; _Home Fairies and Heart
+Flowers_; _On the Road Home_; _Easter Bells_; _Winsome Womanhood_;
+_Little Knights and Ladies_; _Lyrics of Love_; _When Angels Come to
+Men_; _Good Manners for All Occasions_; _The Story Bible_; _Fairest
+Girlhood_; _From My Youth Up_; _Happy School Days_. She died June 4,
+1912.
+
+
+                          ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+                     (_February 12, 1809-1909_)
+
+      Child of the boundless prairie, son of the virgin soil,
+      Heir to the bearing of burdens, brother to them that toil;
+      God and Nature together shaped him to lead in the van,
+      In the stress of her wildest weather when the Nation needed
+            a Man.
+
+      Eyes of a smoldering fire, heart of a lion at bay,
+      Patience to plan for tomorrow, valor to serve for today,
+      Mournful and mirthful and tender, quick as a flash with a jest,
+      Hiding with gibe and great laughter the ache that was dull
+            in his breast.
+
+      Met were the Man and the Hour--Man who was strong for the shock--
+      Fierce were the lightnings unleashed; in the midst, he stood
+            fast as a rock.
+      Comrade he was and commander, he who was meant for the time,
+      Iron in council and action, simple, aloof, and sublime.
+
+      Swift slip the years from their tether, centuries pass like a
+            breath,
+      Only some lives are immortal, challenging darkness and death.
+      Hewn from the stuff of the martyrs, write on the stardust
+            his name,
+      Glowing, untarnished, transcendent, high on the records of Fame.
+
+      Oh, man of many sorrows, 'twas your blood
+        That flowed at Chickamauga, at Bull Run,
+      Vicksburg, Antietam, and the gory wood
+      And Wilderness of ravenous Deaths that stood
+        Round Richmond like a ghostly garrison:
+          Your blood for those who won,
+            For those who lost, your tears!
+            For you the strife, the fears,
+          For us, the sun!
+      For you the lashing winds and the beating rain in your eyes,
+      For us the ascending stars and the wide, unbounded skies.
+
+      Oh, man of storms! Patient and kingly soul!
+        Oh, wise physician of a wasted land!
+        A nation felt upon its heart your hand,
+      And lo, your hand hath made the shattered, whole,
+      With iron clasp your hand hath held the wheel
+      Of the lurching ship, on tempest waves no keel
+        Hath ever sailed.
+        A grim smile held your lips when strong men quailed.
+        You strove alone with chaos and prevailed;
+      You felt the grinding shock and did not reel,
+      And, ah, your hand that cut the battle's path
+      Wide with the devastating plague of wrath,
+        Your bleeding hand, gentle with pity yet,
+        Did not forget
+      To bless, to succor, and to heal.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+     Photograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D. C., 1864]
+
+
+
+
+Wilbur Dick Nesbit was born at Xenia, Ohio, September 16, 1871.
+Educated in the public schools at Cedarville, Ohio. Was printer and
+reporter on various Ohio and Indiana papers until 1898; verse writer
+and paragrapher _Baltimore American_, 1899-1902; since that year
+writer of verse and humor _Chicago Evening Post_ and other newspapers,
+contributor of stories and poems to magazines and periodicals. Author
+of _Little Henry's Slate_, 1903; _The Trail to Boyland and Other
+Poems_, 1904; _An Alphabet of History_, 1905; _The Gentleman Ragman_,
+1906; _A Book of Poems_, 1906; _The Land of Make-Believe and Other
+Christmas Poems_, 1907; _A Friend or Two_, 1908; _The Loving Cup_
+(compilation), 1909; _The Old, Old Wish_, 1911; _My Company of
+Friends_, 1911; _If the Heart be Glad_, 1911; co-author with Otto
+Hauerbach of _The Girl of My Dreams_, a musical comedy, 1910.
+
+
+                          THE MAN LINCOLN
+
+               Not as the great who grow more great
+                 Until from us they are apart--
+               He walks with us in man's estate;
+                 We know his was a brother heart.
+               The marching years may render dim
+                 The humanness of other men;
+               Today we are akin to him
+                 As they who knew him best were then.
+
+               Wars have been won by mail-clad hands,
+                 Realms have been ruled by sword-hedged kings,
+               But he above these others stands
+                 As one who loved the common things;
+               The common faith of man was his,
+                 The common faith of man he had--
+               For this today his grave face is
+                 A face half joyous and half sad.
+
+               A man of earth! Of earthy stuff,
+                 As honest as the fruitful soil,
+               Gnarled as the friendly trees, and rough
+                 As hillsides that had known his toil;
+               Of earthy stuff--let it be told,
+                 For earth-born men rise and reveal
+               A courage fair as beaten gold
+                 And the enduring strength of steel.
+
+               So now he dominates our thought.
+                 This humble great man holds us thus
+               Because of all he dreamed and wrought;
+                 Because he is akin to us.
+               He held his patient trust in truth
+                 While God was working out His plan,
+               And they that were his foes, forsooth,
+                 Came to pay tribute to the Man.
+
+               Not as the great who grow more great
+                 Until they have a mystic fame--
+               No stroke of fortune nor of fate
+                 Gave Lincoln his undying name.
+               A common man, earth-bred, earth-born,
+                 One of the breed who work and wait--
+               His was a soul above all scorn.
+                 His was a heart above all hate.
+
+
+
+
+            [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN AT ANTIETAM
+
+       Photograph taken on the battlefield, September, 1862,
+            with General McClellan and Allen Pinkerton]
+
+
+
+
+Edwin Arlington Robinson, born at Head Tide, Maine, December 22, 1869.
+Educated at Gardiner, Maine, and Harvard University, 1891-3. Member
+National Institute Arts and Letters. Author: _The Torrent_ and _The
+Night Before_, 1896; _The Children of the Night_, 1897, 1905; _Captain
+Craig_ (poems), _The Town Down the River_, 1910.
+
+
+                             THE MASTER
+
+                             (LINCOLN)
+
+                 A flying word from here and there
+                   Had sown the name at which we sneered,
+                 But soon the name was everywhere,
+                   To be reviled and then revered:
+                 A presence to be loved and feared,
+                   We cannot hide it, or deny
+                 That we, the gentlemen who jeered,
+                   May be forgotten by and by.
+
+                 He came when days were perilous
+                   And hearts of men were sore beguiled;
+                 And having made his note of us,
+                   He pondered and was reconciled.
+                 Was ever master yet so mild
+                   As he, and so untamable?
+                 We doubted, even when he smiled,
+                   Not knowing what he knew so well.
+
+                 He knew that undeceiving fate
+                   Would shame us whom he served unsought;
+                 He knew that he must wince and wait--
+                   The jest of those for whom he fought;
+                 He knew devoutly what he thought
+                   Of us and of our ridicule;
+                 He knew that we must all be taught
+                   Like little children in a school.
+
+                 We gave a glamour to the task
+                   That he encountered and saw through,
+                 But little of us did he ask,
+                   And little did we ever do.
+                 And what appears if we review
+                   The season when we railed and chaffed?
+                 It is the face of one who knew
+                   That we were learning while we laughed.
+
+                 The face that in our vision feels
+                   Again the venom that we flung,
+                 Transfigured to the world reveals
+                   The vigilance to which we clung.
+                 Shrewd, hallowed, harassed, and among
+                   The mysteries that are untold,
+                 The face we see was never young
+                   Nor could it ever have been old.
+
+                 For he, to whom we had applied
+                   Our shopman's test of age and worth,
+                 Was elemental when he died,
+                   As he was ancient at his birth:
+                 The saddest among kings of earth,
+                   Bowed with a galling crown, this man
+                 Met rancor with a cryptic mirth,
+                   Laconic--and Olympian.
+
+                 The love, the grandeur, and the fame
+                   Are bounded by the world alone;
+                 The calm, the smouldering, and the flame
+                   Of awful patience were his own;
+                 With him they are forever flown
+                   Past all our fond self-shadowings,
+                 Wherewith we cumber the Unknown
+                   As with inept, Icarian wings.
+
+                 For we were not as other men:
+                   'Twas ours to soar and his to see.
+                 But we are coming down again,
+                   And we shall come down pleasantly;
+                 Nor shall we longer disagree
+                   On what it is to be sublime,
+                 But flourish in our perigee
+                   And have one Titan at a time.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+              Photograph by Gardner, Washington, D. C.
+          Taken when Lincoln appointed General U. S. Grant
+              Commander-in-chief of the Army, in 1864]
+
+
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+                        _By Harriet Monroe_
+
+
+            And, lo! leading a blessed host comes one
+            Who held a warring nation in his heart;
+            Who knew love's agony, but had no part
+            In love's delight; whose mighty task was done
+            Through blood and tears that we might walk in joy,
+            And this day's rapture own no sad alloy.
+            Around him heirs of bliss, whose bright brows wear
+            Palm leaves amid their laurels ever fair.
+            Gaily they come, as though the drum
+            Beat out the call their glad hearts knew so well;
+            Brothers once more, dear as of yore,
+            Who in a noble conflict nobly fell.
+            Their blood washed pure yon banner in the sky,
+            And quenched the brands laid 'neath these arches high--
+            The brave who, having fought, can never die.
+
+
+
+
+               [Illustration: PRESIDENT-ELECT LINCOLN
+
+           From a photograph taken with his Secretaries,
+                   John G. Nicolay and John Hay,
+                    Springfield, Illinois, 1861]
+
+
+
+
+Walt Mason, born at Columbus, Ontario, May 4, 1862. Self educated.
+Came to the United States 1880. Connected with the _Atchinson Globe_
+1885-7, later with _Lincoln_ (Nebraska) _State Journal_ and other
+papers; editorial paragrapher _Evening News_, Washington, D. C., 1893;
+associated with William Allen White on _Emporia_ (Kansas) _Gazette_
+since 1907. His rhymes and prose poems are widely copied in America.
+
+
+                        THE EYES OF LINCOLN
+
+               Sad eyes that were patient and tender,
+                 Sad eyes that were steadfast and true,
+               And warm with the unchanging splendor
+                 Of courage no ills could subdue!
+
+               Eyes dark with the dread of the morrow,
+                 And woe for the day that was gone,
+               The sleepless companions of sorrow,
+                 The watchers that witnessed the dawn.
+
+               Eyes tired from the clamor and goading
+                 And dim from the stress of the years,
+               And hallowed by pain and foreboding
+                 And strained by repression of tears.
+
+               Sad eyes that were wearied and blighted
+                 By visions of sieges and wars
+               Now watch o'er a country united
+                 From the luminous slopes of the stars!
+
+
+
+
+              [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN IN 1862
+
+          Photograph by Matthew Brady, Washington, D. C.]
+
+
+
+
+Arthur Guiterman, author, born of American parentage, at Vienna,
+Austria, November 20, 1871. Editorial work on _Woman's Home
+Companion_, _Literary Digest_ and other magazines since 1891. Author
+of _Betel Nuts_, 1907; _Guest Book_, 1908; _Rubiayat_, including the
+_Literary Omar_, 1909, and _Orestes_ (with Andre Tridon), 1909.
+Contributor chiefly of ballad, lyric verse and short stories to
+magazines and newspapers.
+
+
+                         HE LEADS US STILL
+
+          Dare we despair? Through all the nights and days
+            Of lagging war he kept his courage true.
+          Shall Doubt befog our eyes? A darker haze
+            But proved the faith of him who ever knew
+          That Right must conquer. May we cherish hate
+            For our poor griefs, when never word nor deed
+          Of rancor, malice, spite, of low or great,
+            In his large soul one poison-drop could breed?
+
+          He leads us still. O'er chasms yet unspanned
+            Our pathway lies; the work is but begun;
+          But we shall do our part and leave our land
+            The mightier for noble battles won.
+          Here Truth must triumph, Honor must prevail;
+          The nation Lincoln died for cannot fail!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+           Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1864]
+
+
+
+
+S. Weir Mitchell, born at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, February 15,
+1829. Educated in grammar school, and University of Pennsylvania, but
+was not graduated because of illness during senior year; Doctor of
+Medicine, Jefferson Medical College, 1850; LL.D., Harvard, 1886;
+Edinburgh, 1895; Princeton, 1896; Toronto, 1896; Jefferson Medical
+College, Philadelphia, 1910. Established practice in Philadelphia.
+Author of many works on treatment of diseases. _Collected Poems_,
+1896-1909; _Youth of Washington_, 1904; _A Diplomatic Adventure_,
+1905; _The Mind Reader_, 1907; _A Christmas Venture_, 1907; _John
+Sherwood, Ironmaster_, 1911.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+            Chained by stern duty to the rock of State,
+            His spirit armed in mail of rugged mirth,
+            Ever above, though ever near to earth,
+            Yet felt his heart the cruel tongues that sate
+            Base appetites and, foul with slander, wait
+            Till the keen lightnings bring the awful hour
+            When wounds and suffering shall give them power.
+            Most was he like to Luther, gay and great,
+            Solemn and mirthful, strong of heart and limb.
+            Tender and simple, too; he was so near
+            To all things human that he cast out fear,
+            And, ever simpler, like a little child,
+            Lived in unconscious nearness unto Him
+            Who always on earth's little ones hath smiled.
+
+
+
+
+              [Illustration: STATUE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+            In the Public Square, Hodgenville, Kentucky.
+                    Adolph A. Weinman, Sculptor]
+
+
+
+
+George Alfred Townsend was born in Georgetown, Delaware, January 30,
+1841. In 1860 he began writing for the press and speaking in public,
+and in 1860 adopted the profession of journalism. In 1862 he became a
+war correspondent for the _New York World_, the _Chicago Tribune_ and
+other papers, and made an enviable reputation as a descriptive writer.
+He also published a number of books both of prose and poetry.
+
+
+                          ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+               The peaceful valley reaching wide,
+                 The wild war stilled on every hand;
+               On Pisgah's top our prophet died,
+                 In sight of promised land.
+
+               Low knelt the foeman's serried fronts,
+                 His cannon closed their lips of brass,--
+               The din of arms hushed all at once
+                 To let this good man pass.
+
+               A cheerful heart he wore alway,
+                 Though tragic years clashed on the while;
+               Death sat behind him at the play--
+                 His last look was a smile.
+
+               No battle-pike his march imbrued,
+                 Unarmed he went midst martial mails,
+               The footsore felt their hopes renewed
+                 To hear his homely tales.
+
+               His single arm crushed wrong and thrall
+                 That grand good will we only dreamed,
+               Two races wept around his pall,
+                 One saved and one redeemed.
+
+               The trampled flag he raised again,
+                 And healed our eagle's broken wing;
+               The night that scattered armed men
+                 Saw scorpions rise to sting.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+           Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1864]
+
+
+
+
+Paul Lawrence Dunbar, born of negro parents at Dayton, Ohio, June 27,
+1872. Was graduated at the Dayton High School in 1891, and since then
+has devoted himself to literature and journalism. He has written _Oak
+and Ivy_ (poems); _Lyrics of Lowly Life_ (poems), and _The Uncalled_
+(a novel). Since 1898 he has been on the staff of the Librarian of
+Congress.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+         Hurt was the Nation with a mighty wound,
+         And all her ways were filled with clam'rous sound.
+         Wailed loud the South with unremitting grief,
+         And wept the North that could not find relief.
+         Then madness joined its harshest tone to strife:
+         A minor note swelled in the song of life
+         Till, stirring with the love that filled his breast,
+         But still, unflinching at the Right's behest
+         Grave Lincoln came, strong-handed, from afar,--
+         The mighty Homer of the lyre of war!
+         'Twas he who bade the raging tempest cease,
+         Wrenched from his strings the harmony of peace,
+         Muted the strings that made the discord,--Wrong,
+         And gave his spirit up in thund'rous song.
+         Oh, mighty Master of the mighty lyre!
+         Earth heard and trembled at thy strains of fire:
+         Earth learned of thee what Heaven already knew,
+         And wrote thee down among her treasured few!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+          Photograph by Gardner, Washington, D. C., 1865]
+
+
+
+
+Alice Cary was born in Mount Healthy, near Cincinnati, Ohio, April 20,
+1820. Her first book of poems, with her sister Phoebe, was published
+in 1850. Her poems and prose writings were pictures from life and
+nature, among which were _Pictures of Memory_, _Mulberry Hill_,
+_Coming Home_ and _Nobility_. She died at her home in New York City,
+February 12, 1871. This poem is inscribed to the _London Punch_.
+
+
+                          ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+        No glittering chaplet brought from other lands!
+          As in his life, this man, in death, is ours;
+        His own loved prairies o'er his "gaunt, gnarled hands,"
+          Have fitly drawn their sheet of summer flowers!
+
+        What need hath he now of a tardy crown,
+          His name from mocking jest and sneer to save
+        When every plowman turns his furrow down
+          As soft as though it fell upon his grave?
+
+        He was a man whose like the world again
+          Shall never see, to vex with blame or praise;
+        The landmarks that attest his bright, brief reign,
+          Are battles, not the pomps of gala days!
+
+        The grandest leader of the grandest war
+          That ever time in history gave a place,--
+        What were the tinsel flattery of a star
+          To such a breast! or what a ribbon's grace!
+
+        'Tis to th' man, and th' man's honest worth,
+          The Nation's loyalty in tears upsprings;
+        Through him the soil of labor shines henceforth,
+          High o'er the silken broideries of kings.
+
+        The mechanism of eternal forms--
+          The shifts that courtiers put their bodies through--
+        Were alien ways to him: his brawny arms
+          Had other work than posturing to do!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+     Photograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D. C., 1865]
+
+
+
+
+Rose Terry Cooke was born in West Hartford, Connecticut, February 17,
+1827. Graduated at Hartford Female Seminary in 1843. She has written
+many short stories and a number of books of poems.
+
+
+                          ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+        Hundreds there have been, loftier than their kind,
+        Heroes and victors in the world's great wars:
+        Hundreds, exalted as the eternal stars,
+        By the great heart, or keen and mighty mind;
+        There have been sufferers, maimed and halt and blind,
+        Who bore their woes in such triumphant calm
+        That God hath crowned them with the martyr's palm;
+        And there were those who fought through fire to find
+        Their Master's face, and were by fire refined.
+        But who like thee, oh Sire! hath ever stood
+        Steadfast for truth and right, when lies and wrong
+        Rolled their dark waters, turbulent and strong;
+        Who bore reviling, baseness, tears and blood
+        Poured out like water, till thine own was spent,
+        Then reaped Earth's sole reward--a grave and monument!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+           Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1865]
+
+
+
+
+Frederick Lucian Hosmer, born at Framingham, Massachusetts, October
+16, 1840. Graduated at Harvard in 1869. Ordained in Unitarian Ministry
+at Northboro, Massachusetts, in 1869. Author of _The Way of Life_,
+_The Thought of God, in Hymns and Poems_.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+                The prairies to the mountains call,
+                  The mountains to the sea;
+                From shore to shore a nation keeps
+                  Her martyr's memory.
+
+                Though lowly born, the seal of God
+                  Was in that rugged face;
+                Still from the humble Nazareths come
+                  The Saviours of the race.
+
+                With patient heart and vision clear
+                  He wrought through trying days--
+                "Malice toward none, with Charity for all,"
+                  Unswerved by blame or praise.
+
+                And when the morn of peace broke through
+                  The battle's cloud and din,
+                He hailed with joy the promised land,
+                  He might now enter in.
+
+                He seemed as set by God apart,
+                  The winepress trod alone;
+                He stands forth an uncrowned king,
+                  A people's heart his throne.
+
+                Land of our loyal love and hope,
+                  O Land he died to save,
+                Bow down, renew today thy vows
+                  Beside his martyr grave!
+
+
+
+
+Charles Monroe Dickinson, born at Lowville, New York, November 15,
+1842. Educated at Fairfield (New York), Seminary and Lowville Academy.
+Admitted to the bar in 1865; practiced law in the State of
+Pennsylvania, at Binghamton, New York, and in New York City 1865-77,
+when he abandoned the profession because of broken health. Editor and
+proprietor of _Binghamton Republican_, 1878-1911. In 1892, upon his
+suggestion and initiative the various news organizations were combined
+into the present Associated Press. Presidential elector, 1896; United
+States Consul-General to Turkey, 1897-1906; Diplomatic agent to
+Bulgaria, 1901-1903. While acting in this capacity the American
+missionary, Ellen M. Stone, was carried off by brigands, but released
+through his settlement and efforts. Member board to draft regulations
+for government of American consular service 1906; American
+Consul-General at-large, 1906-October 1, 1908. Author of _History of
+Dickinson Family_, 1885; _The Children and Other Verses_, 1889; part
+of political history of State of New York, 1911.
+
+
+                          ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+                If any one hath doubt or fear
+                  That this is Freedom's chosen clime--
+                That God hath sown and planted here
+                  The richest harvest field of Time--
+                Let him take heart, throw off his fears,
+                As he looks back a hundred years.
+
+                Cities and fields and wealth untold,
+                  With equal rights before the law;
+                And, better than all lands and gold--
+                  Such as the old world never saw--
+                Freedom and peace, the right to be,
+                And honor to those who made us free.
+
+                Our greatness did not happen so,
+                  We owe it not to chance or fate;
+                In furnace heat, by blow on blow,
+                  Were forged the things that make us great;
+                And men still live who bore that heat,
+                And felt those deadly hammers beat.
+
+                Not in the pampered courts of kings,
+                  Not in the homes that rich men keep,
+                God calls His Davids with their slings,
+                  Or wakes His Samuels from their sleep;
+                But from the homes of toil and need
+                Calls those who serve as well as lead.
+
+                Such was the hero of our race;
+                  Skilled in the school of common things,
+                He felt the sweat on Labor's face,
+                  He knew the pinch of want, the sting
+                The bondman felt, and all the wrong
+                The weak had suffered from the strong.
+
+                God passed the waiting centuries by,
+                  And kept him for our time of need--
+                To lead us with his courage high--
+                  To make our country free indeed;
+                Then, that he be by none surpassed,
+                God crowned him martyr at the last.
+
+                Let speech and pen and song proclaim
+                  Our grateful praise this natal morn;
+                Time hath preserved no nobler name,
+                  And generations yet unborn
+                Shall swell the pride of those who can
+                Claim Lincoln as their countryman.
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: FORD'S THEATRE]
+
+
+The building is a plain brick structure, three stories high,
+seventy-one feet front and one hundred feet deep. It was originally
+constructed and occupied as a Baptist Church, but at the beginning of
+the war was converted into a theatre, though never used for that
+purpose after the assassination of Lincoln. The government purchased
+it for one hundred thousand dollars, and it is now used as a branch of
+the Record and Pension Division of the War Department. President
+Lincoln was shot by J. Wilkes Booth at 10.20 o'clock P.M. on the
+evening of April 14, 1865, while seated in his private box in the
+theatre.
+
+
+                        SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS!
+
+                        _By Robert Leighton_
+
+            "Sic semper tyrannis!" the assassin cried,
+            As Lincoln fell. O villain! who than he
+            More lived to set both slave and tyrant free?
+            Or so enrapt with plans of freedom died,
+            That even thy treacherous deed shall glance aside
+              And do the dead man's will by land and sea;
+              Win bloodless battles, and make that to be
+            Which to his living mandate was denied!
+            Peace to that gentle heart! The peace he sought
+              For all mankind, nor for it dies in vain.
+            Rest to the uncrowned king, who, toiling, brought
+              His bleeding country through that dreadful reign;
+            Who, living, earned a world's revering thought,
+              And, dying, leaves his name without a stain.
+
+           _Liverpool, England,
+               May 5, 1865_
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+                Foully assassinated, April 14, 1865]
+
+
+Tom Taylor wrote the following poem, which appeared in the _London
+Punch_, May 6, 1865. The engraving is a facsimile of the one published
+in the paper at the head of the poem.
+
+
+                ABRAHAM LINCOLN, FOULLY ASSASSINATED
+
+          You lay a wreath on murdered LINCOLN'S bier,
+            _You_, who with mocking pencil wont to trace,
+          Broad for self-complacent British sneer,
+            His length of shambling limb, his furrowed face,
+
+          His gaunt, gnarled hands, his unkempt, bristling hair,
+            His garb uncouth, his bearing ill at ease,
+          His lack of all we prize as debonair,
+            Of power or will to shine, of art to please,
+
+          _You_, whose smart pen backed up the pencil's laugh,
+            Judging each step, as though the way were plain:
+          Reckless, so it could point its paragraph,
+            Of chief's perplexity, or people's pain.
+
+          Beside this corpse, that bears for winding sheet
+            The Stars and Stripes, he lived to rear anew,
+          Between the mourners at his head and feet,
+            Say, scurrile-jester, is there room for _you_?
+
+          Yes, he had lived to shame me from my sneer,
+            To lame my pencil, and confute my pen--
+          To make me own this hind of princes peer,
+            This rail-splitter a true-born king of men.
+
+          My shallow judgment I had learnt to rue,
+            Noting how to occasion's height he rose,
+          How his quaint wit made home-truth seem more true,
+            How, iron-like, his temper grew by blows.
+
+          How humble, yet how hopeful he could be;
+            How in good fortune and in ill the same;
+          Nor bitter in success, nor boastful he,
+            Thirsty for gold, nor feverish for fame.
+
+          He went about his work--such work as few
+            Ever had laid on head and heart and hand--
+          As one who knows, where there's a task to do,
+            Man's honest will must Heaven's good grace command.
+
+          Who trusts the strength will with the burden grow,
+            That God makes instruments to work His will,
+          If but that will we can arrive to know,
+            Nor tamper with the weights of good and ill.
+
+          So he went forth to battle, on the side
+            That he felt clear was Liberty's and Right's,
+          As in his peasant boyhood he had plied
+            His warfare with rude Nature's thwarting mights--
+
+          The uncleared forest, the unbroken soil,
+            The iron-bark that turned the lumberer's axe,
+          The rapid, that o'erbears the boatmen's toil,
+            The prairie, hiding the mazed wanderer's tracks,
+
+          The ambushed Indian, and the prowling bear--
+            Such were the needs that helped his youth to train;
+          Rough culture--but such trees large fruit may bear,
+            If but their stocks be of right girth and grain.
+
+          So he grew up, a destined work to do,
+            And lived to do it--four long-suffering years;
+          Ill-fate, ill-feeling, ill-report, lived through,
+            And then he heard the hisses change to cheers,
+
+          The taunts to tribute, the abuse to praise,
+            And took both with the same unwavering mood;
+          Till, as he came on light from darking days,
+            And seemed to touch the goal from where he stood,
+
+          A felon hand, between the goal and him,
+            Reached from behind his back, a trigger prest,--
+          And those perplexed and patient eyes were dim,
+            Those gaunt, long-laboring limbs were laid to rest!
+
+          The words of mercy were upon his lips,
+            Forgiveness in his heart and on his pen,
+          When this vile murderer brought swift eclipse
+            To thoughts of peace on earth, good will to men.
+
+          The Old World and the New, from sea to sea,
+            Utter one voice of sympathy and shame!
+          Sore heart, so stopped when it at last beat high,
+            Sad life, cut short just as its triumph came.
+
+          A deed accurst! Strokes have been struck before
+            By the assassin's hand, whereof men doubt
+          If more of horror or disgrace they bore;
+            But thy foul crime, like CAIN'S stands darkly out.
+
+          Vile hand, that brandest murder on a strife,
+            Whate'er its grounds, stoutly and nobly striven;
+          And with the martyr's crown crownest a life
+            With much to praise, little to be forgiven!
+
+
+
+
+                [Illustration: DEATHBED OF LINCOLN]
+
+
+Immediately after the President was shot in Ford's Theatre he was
+carried across the street to the house of William Petersen and placed
+on a single bed in a room at the end of the hall. All through that
+weary night the watchers stood by the bedside. He was unconscious
+every moment from the time the bullet entered his head until Dr.
+Robert King Stone, the family physician, announced at twenty-two
+minutes after seven on the following morning that he had breathed his
+last (April 15, 1865). Upon this Secretary Edwin M. Stanton, Secretary
+of War, in a low voice said: "_Now He Belongs to the Ages_."
+
+
+                            THE DEATHBED
+
+  Silence falls, unbroken save by sobs of strong men
+  In that room, where Lincoln, at the morning hour's chime
+  Passed out into the unknown from the world of human ken.
+  Gone his body and his life work from the world inclosed by time;
+  But in the silence that was falling after breath of broken prayer,
+  Words eternal broke the quiet like a bell toll on the air;
+  Never in the world's wide story, wiser spoke nor Prophet, spoke nor
+      Sages,
+  Than these words that broke the silence: "He belongs now to the Ages!"
+
+  "To the Ages!" well you spoke it, Stanton of the massive mind!
+  He belongs, the years have shown it, to the world of human kind!
+  Heard his story, where'er hearts throb o'er the world's far spreading
+      way;
+  Heard his story, children listen at the closing of the day;
+  Heard his story, lovers speak it in their hushed and saddened tones
+  As they wander in the twilight, dreaming of their coming homes;
+  Heard his story, statesmen tell it, with a thrill of pride and truth;
+  Heard his story, old men speak it to the country's growing youth.
+  And the years have shown the Prophets, and the years have shown the
+      Sages;
+  Writ in fire these words of wisdom, "He belongs now to the Ages!"
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+                             President]
+
+
+                   [Illustration: EDWIN M. STANTON
+
+                          Secretary of War]
+
+
+Marion Mills Miller was born at Eaton, Ohio, February 27, 1864. He was
+graduated from Princeton in 1886, and for several years thereafter was
+an instructor there in the English department. In 1889 he received the
+degree of Doctor of Literature from his Alma Mater. Since 1893 he has
+been engaged in literary and social reform work in New York City. He
+has published some verse and fiction, but his most notable work has
+been in the fields of translation and history. He has edited _The
+Classics--Greek and Latin_ (15 volumes), published in 1909, and _Great
+Debates in American History_ (14 volumes), published in 1913.
+
+In 1907 he edited the Centenary Edition of _The Life and Works of
+Abraham Lincoln_ in 10 volumes, logically arranged for ready
+reference. The _Life of Lincoln_ was published separately in 1908 in
+two volumes. It is based on a manuscript by Henry C. Whitney, whose
+name it bears as author, although the second volume, _Lincoln, the
+President_, was largely written by Dr. Miller. The late Major William
+H. Lambert, president of the Lincoln Fellowship, called it "the best
+of the shorter biographies of Lincoln." Dr. Miller has also edited
+_The Wisdom of Lincoln_ (1908), a small book of extracts from
+Lincoln's speeches and writings. He wrote the following poem, "Lincoln
+and Stanton," especially for THE POETS' LINCOLN.
+
+The first reference in it is to the Manny-McCormick case over the
+patent rights of the reaping machine, in which Lincoln had been at
+first selected as principal pleader, but was superseded by Edwin M.
+Stanton. Having thoroughly prepared himself, he offered his assistance
+to Stanton, but was brusquely repulsed. He was so hurt that he felt
+like leaving the court room, but decided, in loyalty to his client, to
+remain, and, leaving his place among counsel, took a seat in the
+audience. Despite his injured feelings he was filled with admiration
+for Stanton's able and successful conduct of the case. Lincoln,
+probably referring to a slur of Stanton reported to him, said that he
+would have to go back to Illinois and "study more law," since the
+"college-bred" lawyers were pushing hard the "cornfield" ones.
+
+The second reference is to Stanton's criticism of Lincoln's
+conservative course during the first months of his Presidency; "that
+imbecile at the White House," he called him. Stanton as
+Attorney-General at the close of Buchanan's administration had done
+effective work in foiling the plans of the Confederacy, and he
+believed in forceful measures to put down the rebellion in its
+incipiency.
+
+The third reference is to the virtually enforced resignation of Simon
+Cameron, Lincoln's first Secretary of War, and Lincoln's choice to
+succeed him of Stanton, whom he realized to be the best equipped man
+in the country for the place.
+
+The fourth reference is to Stanton's remark by the bedside of Lincoln
+as the stricken President ceased breathing: "There lies the greatest
+leader of men the world ever saw."
+
+
+                        LINCOLN AND STANTON
+
+            Lincoln had cause one man alone to hate:
+              A fellow-lawyer, lacking in all grace,
+              Who cast uncalled-for insult in his face
+            When Lincoln as his colleague, with innate
+            Courtesy, proffered aid. With pride inflate
+              The scornful Stanton waved him to his place,
+              Snapping, "I need no help to try this case";
+            And "cornfield lawyer" muttered of his mate.
+
+            And when, as captain of the Union ship,
+              Lincoln drew sail before the gathering storm
+                Till favoring winds the shrouds unfurled should fill,
+            Stanton again curled his contemptuous lip
+              And, with the impatience of a patriot warm,
+                Sneered at the helmsman, "craven imbecile."
+
+            Laid was the course at length; the sails untried
+              Were spread; the raw crew set at spar and coil.
+              Now round the prow Charybdean waters boil
+            And ever higher surges war's red tide.
+            The mate who should the captain's care divide
+              Has strengthless proved. Where shall, the foe to foil,
+              A man be found able to bear the toil
+            And stand, to steer the ship, by Lincoln's side?
+
+            Stanton he called! The bitter choice he made
+              For country, not himself. The ship was driven
+                By the great twain through war's abyss, again
+            Into calm seas. Then Lincoln low was laid,
+              And Stanton paid him highest tribute given
+                To mortal: "Mightiest leader among men!"
+
+
+
+
+                [Illustration: THE DEATH OF LINCOLN
+
+   1 President Lincoln. 2 Hon. Gideon Welles, Secretary of the
+   Navy. 3 John Hay, Esq., President's Private Secretary. 4 Hon.
+   E. M. Stanton, Secretary of War. 5 Rev. Dr. Gurley. 6 Gen.
+   Farnsworth, M. C. from Illinois. 7 Governor Ogilsby of Illinois.
+   8 General Todd. 9 Rufus Andrews, Esq. 10 Hon. W. T. Otto,
+   Assistant Secretary of the Interior. 11 Hon. W. Denison,
+   Postmaster-General. 12 Judge D. K. Carter. 13 Major-General
+   Halleck. 14 Captain Robert Lincoln. 15 Dr. Leale. 16 Hon. Charles
+   Sumner. 17 Dr. Crane, Assistant Surgeon-General. 18 Governor
+   Farwell, of Wisconsin. 19 Hon. J. P. Usher, Secretary of the
+   Interior. 20 Major-General Augur. 21 Major-General Meigs. 22
+   Maunsel B. Field, Esq. 23 Hon. Schuyler Colfax. 24 Hon. James
+   Speed, Attorney-General. 25 Hon. H. McCullough, Secretary of the
+   Treasury 26 Dr. R. K. Stone. 27 Surgeon-General Barnes.]
+
+
+
+
+             [Illustration: HOUSE IN WHICH LINCOLN DIED
+
+                         Washington, D. C.]
+
+
+           [Illustration: JOSEPHINE OLDROYD TIEFENTHALER
+
+            Born July 17, 1896. Died February 20, 1908]
+
+
+Robert Mackay and his wife visited this historic house in 1902. They
+were met at the door and escorted through the various rooms containing
+the Collection by Little Josephine, and were deeply impressed at the
+knowledge she exhibited of Lincoln and the Collection, although she
+was but six years of age. Mr. Mackay was born at Virginia City,
+Nevada, April 22, 1871. Reporter _San Francisco Chronicle_, 1886.
+Worked on newspapers as printer, reporter and editor until 1895, when
+he traveled extensively over the world for the International News
+Syndicate; joined staff of the _New York World_ in 1899; managing
+editor of _Success Magazine_, 1900-1908. Editor the _Delineator_,
+1908. Joined editorial department of the Frank A. Munsey Company in
+1909, contributor of short stories, also other prose and verse.
+
+
+                    THE HOUSE WHERE LINCOLN DIED
+
+             Above Judea's purple-mantled plain,
+               There hovers still, among the ruins lone,
+               The spirit of the Christ whose dying moan
+             Was heard in heaven, and paid our debt in pain.
+
+             As subtle perfume lingers with the rose,
+               Even when its petals flutter to the earth,
+               So clings the potent mystery of the birth
+             Of that deep love from which all mercy flows.
+
+                    .       .       .       .       .
+
+             Within this house,--this room,--a martyr died,
+               A prophet of a larger liberty,--
+               A liberator setting bondmen free,
+             A full-orbed MAN, above mere mortal pride.
+
+             The cloud-rifts opening to celestial glades,
+               Oft glimpse him, and his spirit lingers still,
+               As Christ's sweet influence broods upon the hill
+             Where the red lily with the sunset fades.
+
+                    .       .       .       .       .
+
+             A little girl with eyes of heavenly blue,
+               Sings through the old place, ignorant of all;
+               Her angel face, her cheerful, birdlike call
+             Thrilling the heart to life more full, more true.
+
+
+
+
+                        IN TOKEN OF RESPECT
+
+                  _Translation from Latin verses_
+
+
+               From humble parentage and low degree
+                 Lincoln ascended to the highest rank;
+               None ever had a harder task than he,
+                 It was perfected--him alone we thank.
+
+               Did the assassin think to kill a name,
+                 Or hand his own down to posterity?
+               One will wear the laurel wreath of fame,
+                 The other be condemned to infamy.
+
+               Caesar was killed by Brutus,
+                 Yet Rome did not cease to be;
+               Lincoln by Booth, and yet the slaves
+                 In all America are free!
+
+            Rieti, France, May, 1865
+
+
+
+
+                          ENGLAND'S SORROW
+
+                         _From London Fun_
+
+
+            The hand of an Assassin, glowing red,
+              Shot like a firebrand through the western sky;
+            And stalwart Abraham Lincoln now is dead!
+              O! felon heart that thus could basely dye
+            The name of southerner with murderous gore!
+              Could such a spirit come from mortal womb?
+            And what possessed it that not heretofore
+              It linked its coward mission with the tomb?
+            Lincoln! thy fame shall sound through many an age,
+              To prove that genius lives in humble birth;
+            Thy name shall sound upon historic page,
+              For 'midst thy faults we all esteemed thy worth.
+
+            Gone art thou now! no more 'midst angry heat
+              Shall thy calm spirit rule the surging tide,
+            Which rolls where two contending nations meet,
+              To still the passion and to curb the pride.
+            Nations have looked and seen the fate of kings,
+              Protectors, emperors, and such like men;
+            Behold the man whose dirge all Europe sings,
+              Now past the eulogy of mortal pen!
+            He, like a lighthouse, fell athwart the strand;
+              Let curses rest upon the assassin's hand.
+
+
+
+
+               [Illustration: THE FUNERAL OF LINCOLN
+
+   Ceremonies in the East Room of the White House, April 19, 1865]
+
+
+At ten minutes after twelve o'clock Rev. Charles H. Hall, of the
+Church of the Epiphany, opened the service by reading from the
+Episcopal Burial Service for the Dead. Bishop Matthew Simpson of the
+Methodist Church then offered prayer, and the Rev. Dr. Phineas D.
+Gurley, pastor of the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church, at which
+Mr. Lincoln and his family attended, delivered a sermon. The Rev. E.
+H. Gray, D.D., of the E Street Baptist Church, closed the solemn
+service with prayer.
+
+
+Phineas Densmore Gurley, born at Hamilton, New York, 1816. Educated at
+Union College, Schenectady, New York. Taught during vacation,
+graduated 1837. Studied theology at the Theological Seminary,
+Princeton, New Jersey. Was licensed to preach in 1840. In 1840 he went
+to Indianapolis, Indiana, and took charge of a church. In 1849 he
+removed to Dayton, Ohio, taking charge of a church, and in 1853 moved
+to Washington, D. C., and took charge of a Presbyterian Church on F
+Street, afterwards Willard Hall. In 1858 was elected Chaplain of the
+United States Senate. In July, 1859, the Second Presbyterian Church
+and the F Street Church united, and were known as the New York Avenue
+Presbyterian Church, Dr. Gurley becoming its pastor from March, 1861,
+until his death. President Lincoln was a pew holder and a regular
+attendant, but was not a member. On one occasion the President
+remarked, "I like Dr. Gurley, he doesn't preach politics. I get enough
+of that during the week, and when I go to church I like to hear
+gospel."
+
+When the President was assassinated Dr. Gurley was sent for and
+remained with the President until he breathed his last.
+
+As soon as the spirit took its flight, Secretary Stanton turned to Dr.
+Gurley and said, "Doctor, will you say something?" After a brief
+pause, Dr. Gurley said, "Let us talk with God," and offered a touching
+prayer. Dr. Gurley died September 30, 1868.
+
+
+                    THE FUNERAL HYMN OF LINCOLN
+
+                 Rest, noble martyr! rest in peace;
+                   Rest with the true and brave,
+                 Who, like thee, fell in freedom's cause,
+                   The nation's life to save.
+
+                 Thy name shall live while time endures,
+                   And men shall say of thee,
+                 "He saved his country from its foes,
+                   And bade the slave be free."
+
+                 These deeds shall be thy monument,
+                   Better than brass or stone;
+                 They leave thy fame in glory's light,
+                   Unrival'd and alone.
+
+                 This consecrated spot shall be
+                   To freedom ever dear;
+                 And freedom's sons of every race
+                   Shall weep and worship here.
+
+                 O God! before whom we, in tears,
+                   Our fallen chief deplore,
+                 Grant that the cause for which he died
+                   May live forevermore.
+
+
+
+
+Harriet McEwen Kimball, born at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, November,
+1834. Educated there; specially known as a religious poet, although
+she has written much secular verse; chief founder of the Portsmouth
+Cottage Hospital. Author hymns, _Swallow Flights_; _Blessed Company of
+All Faithful People_; _Poems_ (complete edition), 1889.
+
+
+                         REST, REST FOR HIM
+
+             Rest, rest for him whose noble work is done;
+               For him who led us gently, unaware,
+               Till we were readier to do and dare
+             For Freedom, and her hundred fields were won.
+
+             His march is ended where his march began;
+               More sweet his sleep for toil and sacrifice,
+               And that rare wisdom whose beginning lies
+             In fear of God, and charity for man;
+
+             And sweetest for the tender faith that grew
+               More strong in trial, and through doubt more clear,
+               Seeing in clouds and darkness One appear
+             In whose dread name the Nation's sword he drew.
+
+             Rest, rest for him; and rest for us today
+               Whose sorrow shook the land from east to west
+               When slain by treason on the Nation's breast
+             Her martyr breathed his steadfast soul away.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: THE FUNERAL CAR]
+
+
+This car bore the remains of the Martyr President to his home in
+Springfield, Illinois, where they were laid to rest. The funeral train
+left Washington, D. C., on the 21st of April, 1865, proceeded from
+that city to Baltimore, Maryland; Harrisburg and Philadelphia,
+Pennsylvania; New York City, Albany and Buffalo, New York; Cleveland
+and Columbus, Ohio; Indianapolis, Indiana; Chicago, Illinois; and
+finally to Springfield, reaching the latter place May 3, where the
+last sad rites were performed on the succeeding day. The body lay in
+state in all the above cities, brief stops being also made in many
+smaller places.
+
+
+Richard Henry Stoddard in the following Horatian Ode made a beautiful
+analysis of the Martyr President's character, with a magnificent
+picture of the nation's tribute of mourning for its dead chief:
+
+
+                     THE FUNERAL CAR OF LINCOLN
+
+                Peace! Let the long procession come,
+                For, hark!--the mournful, muffled drum--
+                The trumpet's wail afar--
+                And, see! the awful car!
+
+                Peace! let the sad procession go,
+                While cannon boom, and bells toll slow:
+                And go, thou sacred car,
+                Bearing our Woe afar!
+
+                Go, darkly borne, from State to State,
+                Whose loyal, sorrowing cities wait
+                To honor all they can
+                The dust of that good man!
+
+                Go, grandly borne, with such a train
+                As greatest kings might die to gain;
+                The Just, the Wise, the Brave
+                Attend thee to the grave!
+
+                And you the soldiers of our wars,
+                Bronzed veterans, grim with noble scars,
+                Salute him once again,
+                Your late Commander--slain!
+
+                Yes, let your tears, indignant, fall,
+                And leave your muskets on the wall;
+                Your country needs you now
+                Beside the forge, the plow!
+
+                (When Justice shall unsheathe her brand--
+                If Mercy may not stay her hand,
+                Nor would we have it so--
+                She must direct the blow!)
+
+                So, sweetly, sadly, sternly goes
+                The Fallen to his last repose;
+                Beneath no mighty dome,
+                But in his modest Home!
+
+                The churchyard where his children rest,
+                The quiet spot that suits him best;
+                There shall his grave be made,
+                And there his bones be laid!
+
+                And there his countrymen shall come,
+                With memory proud, with pity dumb,
+                And strangers far and near,
+                For many and many a year!
+
+                For many a year, and many an age,
+                With History on her ample page
+                The virtues shall enroll
+                Of that Paternal Soul.
+
+
+
+
+William Cullen Bryant, born in Cummington, Massachusetts, November 3,
+1794. Died in New York, June 12, 1878. He wrote verses in his twelfth
+year to be recited at school. Spent two years at Williams College and
+at the age of eighteen began the study of law. He depended upon his
+profession for a number of years, although it was not to his liking.
+His contributions to the _North American Review_ and his poems
+published therein gained him an enviable reputation, and reflected
+great credit upon him.
+
+
+                        THE DEATH OF LINCOLN
+
+                Oh, slow to smite and swift to spare,
+                  Gentle and merciful and just!
+                Who, in the fear of God didst bear
+                  The sword of power, a nation's trust.
+
+                In sorrow by thy bier we stand,
+                  Amid the awe that hushes all,
+                And speak the anguish of a land
+                  That shook with horror at thy fall.
+
+                Thy task is done; the bond is free--
+                  We bear thee to an honored grave,
+                Whose noblest monument shall be
+                  The broken fetters of the slave.
+
+                Pure was thy life; its bloody close
+                  Hath placed thee with the sons of light
+                Among the noble host of those
+                  Who perished in the cause of right.
+
+
+
+
+             [Illustration: CITY HALL, NEW YORK, N. Y.]
+
+
+At the time of the appearance of the procession at the City Hall at
+least twenty thousand persons were assembled in the immediate
+neighborhood. While awaiting the arrival of the procession a number of
+German singing bands were marched into the open space before the Hall,
+and arranged on either side of the entrance, preparatory to the
+singing of a requiem to the dead. The procession entered the Park at
+about half-past eleven o'clock, and the hearse stopped before the
+entrance to the Hall. Here the coffin was immediately taken from the
+hearse and carried up the stairs to the catafalque which had been
+prepared for its reception, while the singing societies rendered two
+very appropriate dirges.
+
+The interior of the City Hall had been decorated with much taste.
+Across the dome a black curtain was drawn, and the rays of light thus
+conducted fell subdued upon the sad but imposing spectacle.
+
+
+
+
+Henry T. Tuckerman, a member of the Committee on Resolutions, wrote
+the following ode for the funeral obsequies, on the 25th day of April,
+1865, at New York City. The Athenaeum Club participated, bearing an
+appropriate banner, the members wearing distinctive badges of mourning
+and under the leadership of their Vice-President, Henry E. Pierpont;
+the President, William T. Blodgett, being at that time absent acting
+as Chairman of the Citizens Committee:
+
+
+                                ODE
+
+                Shroud the banner! rear the cross!
+                Consecrate a nation's loss;
+                Gaze on that majestic sleep;
+                Stand beside the bier to weep;
+                Lay the gentle son of toil
+                Proudly in his native soil;
+                Crowned with honor, to his rest
+                Bear the prophet of the West.
+
+                How cold the brow that yet doth wear
+                The impress of a nation's care;
+                How still the heart, whose every beat
+                Glowed with compassion's sacred heat;
+                Rigid the lips, whose patient smile
+                Duty's stern task would oft beguile;
+                Blood-quenched the pensive eye's soft light;
+                Nerveless the hand so loth to smite;
+                So meek in rule, it leads, though dead,
+                The people as in life it led.
+
+                O let his wise and guileless sway
+                Win every recreant today,
+                And sorrow's vast and holy wave
+                Blend all our hearts around his grave!
+                Let the faithful bondmen's tears,
+                Let the traitor's craven fears,
+                And the people's grief and pride,
+                Plead against the parricide!
+                Let us throng to pledge and pray
+                O'er the patriot martyr's clay;
+                Then, with solemn faith in right,
+                That made him victor in the fight,
+                Cling to the path he fearless trod,
+                Still radiant with the smile of God.
+
+                Shroud the banner! rear the cross!
+                Consecrate a nation's loss;
+                Gaze on that majestic sleep;
+                Stand beside the bier to weep;
+                Lay the gentle son of toil
+                Proudly in his native soil;
+                Crowned with honor, to his rest
+                Bear the prophet of the West.
+
+
+
+
+Lucy Larcom was born in Beverly, Mass., in 1826. At the age of seven
+years she wrote stories and poems. She spent three years in school,
+then worked in the cotton mills. Some of her writings attracted the
+attention of Whittier, from whom she received encouragement. At the
+age of twenty she went to Illinois and there taught school for some
+time, and for three years studied in Monticello Female Seminary. She
+returned to Massachusetts and during the war wrote many patriotic
+poems.
+
+
+                              TOLLING
+
+                    Tolling, tolling, tolling!
+                      All the bells of the land!
+                    Lo, the patriot martyr
+                      Taketh his journey grand!
+                    Travels into the ages,
+                      Bearing a hope how dear!
+                    Into life's unknown vistas,
+                      Liberty's great pioneer.
+
+                    Tolling, tolling, tolling!
+                      See, they come as a cloud,
+                    Hearts of a mighty people,
+                      Bearing his pall and shroud;
+                    Lifting up, like a banner,
+                      Signals of loss and woe;
+                    Wonder of breathless nations,
+                      Moveth the solemn show.
+
+                    Tolling, tolling, tolling!
+                      Was it, O man beloved,
+                    Was it thy funeral only
+                      Over the land that moved?
+
+
+
+
+        [Illustration: ROTUNDA, CITY HALL, NEW YORK, N. Y.]
+
+
+The remains of President Lincoln lay in state in the City Hall, New
+York, from noon April 24 to noon April 25, 1865. Visitors were
+admitted to view the remains, passing through the Hall two abreast.
+Singing societies sang dirges in the rotunda the night through.
+
+
+
+
+Richard Storrs Willis was born in Boston, Massachusetts, February 10,
+1819, was graduated at Yale in 1841, and adopted literature as his
+profession. He has published musical and other poems; has edited the
+_New York Musical World_ and _Once a Week_, and contributed also to
+current literature. He wrote the following:
+
+
+                         REQUIEM OF LINCOLN
+
+                Now wake the requiem's solemn moan,
+                For him whose patriot task is done!
+                A nation's heart stands still today
+                With horror, o'er his martyred clay!
+
+                O, God of Peace, repress the ire,
+                Which fills our souls with vengeful fire!
+                Vengeance is Thine--and sovereign might,
+                Alone, can such a crime requite!
+
+                Farewell, thou good and guileless heart!
+                The manliest tears for thee must start!
+                E'en those at times who blamed thee here,
+                Now deeply sorrow o'er thy bier.
+
+                O, Jesus, grant him sweet repose,
+                Who, like Thee, seemed to love his foes!
+                Those foes, like Thine, their wrath to spend,
+                Have slain their best, their firmest friend.
+
+
+
+
+           [Illustration: ST. JAMES HALL, BUFFALO, N. Y.]
+
+
+The funeral train bearing the remains of President Lincoln reached
+Buffalo, New York, on Thursday morning, the 27th of April. The body
+was taken from the funeral car and borne by soldiers up to St. James'
+Hall, where it was placed under a crape canopy, extending from the
+ceiling to the floor. The Buffalo St. Cecilia Society sang with deep
+pathos the dirge "Rest, Spirit, Rest," the society then placed an
+elegantly formed harp, made of choice white flowers, at the head of
+the coffin, as a tribute from them to the honored dead. The public
+were admitted to view the remains, and the following day the remains
+reached Cleveland, Ohio.
+
+
+
+
+James Nicoll Johnston was born in Ardee, County Donegal, Ireland. When
+two years of age the family moved to Cashelmore, Sheephaven Bay,
+County Donegal. In 1847 they moved to America. He was then between
+fifteen and sixteen years of age. In 1848 they settled at Buffalo,
+New York, which has been his home until the present time.
+
+He has published two editions of _Donegal Memories_, also two editions
+of _Donegal Memories and Other Poems_, and a volume of Buffalo verse
+collected by him under the title of _Poets and Poetry of Buffalo_. He
+assisted in collections of Buffalo local literature, also devoted much
+time to the production of publications of a philanthropic nature.
+
+
+                              REQUIEM
+
+                  Bear him to his Western home,
+                    Whence he came four years ago;
+                  Not beneath some Eastern dome,
+                  But where Freedom's airs may come,
+                    Where the prairie grasses grow,
+                    To the friends who loved him so,
+
+                  Take him to his quiet rest;
+                    Toll the bell and fire the gun;
+                  He who served his Country best,
+                  He whom millions loved and bless'd,
+                    Now has fame immortal won;
+                    Rack of brain and heart is done.
+
+                  Shed thy tears, O April rain,
+                    O'er the tomb wherein he sleeps!
+                  Wash away the bloody stain!
+                  Drape the skies in grief, O rain!
+                    Lo! a nation with thee weeps,
+                  Grieving o'er her martyred slain.
+
+                  To the people whence he came,
+                    Bear him gently back again,
+                  Greater his than victor's fame:
+                  His is now a sainted name;
+                    Never ruler had such gain--
+                    Never people had such pain.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+                 Photograph taken in 1863 by Brady]
+
+
+
+
+Oliver Wendell Holmes, born in Cambridge, Mass., August 29, 1809. To
+him belongs the credit of saving the frigate Constitution from
+destruction, by a poem--_Aye, Tear the Battered Ensign Down_. He died
+August 7, 1894.
+
+
+               SERVICES IN MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+                  (_City of Boston, June 1, 1865_)
+
+
+                O Thou of soul and sense and breath,
+                  The ever-present Giver,
+                Unto Thy mighty angel, death,
+                  All flesh Thou didst deliver;
+                What most we cherish, we resign,
+                For life and death alike are Thine,
+                  Who reignest Lord forever!
+
+                Our hearts lie buried in the dust
+                  With him, so true and tender,
+                The patriot's stay, the people's trust,
+                  The shield of the offender;
+                Yet every murmuring voice is still,
+                As, bowing to Thy sovereign will,
+                  Our best loved we surrender.
+
+                Dear Lord, with pitying eye behold
+                  This martyr generation,
+                Which Thou, through trials manifold,
+                  Art showing Thy salvation!
+                O let the blood by murder spilt
+                Wash out Thy stricken children's guilt,
+                  And sanctify our Nation!
+
+                Be Thou Thy orphaned Israel's friend,
+                  Forsake Thy people never,
+                In one our broken many blend,
+                  That none again may sever!
+                Hear us, O Father, while we raise
+                With trembling lips our song of praise,
+                  And bless Thy name forever!
+
+
+
+
+           [Illustration: LINCOLN HOMESTEAD, MAY 4, 1865
+
+   Photographed by F. W. Ingmire on the day of the funeral, with the
+   members of the National Committee appointed to accompany the
+   remains to Springfield, Illinois.
+
+   Members on the pavement: Left (1) Hon. Schuyler Colfax, Speaker
+   of the House; (2) Hon. R. C. Schenck, Ohio; (3) Hon. Lyman
+   Trumbull, Illinois; (4) Hon. Charles E. Phelps, Maryland; (5)
+   Hon. W. H. Wallace, Idaho; (6) Hon. Joseph Baily, Pennsylvania;
+   (7) Hon. James K. Morehead, Pennsylvania; (8) Hon. Sidney Clarke,
+   Kansas; (9) Hon. Samuel Hooper, Massachusetts; (10) Hon. E. B.
+   Washburn, Illinois; (11) Hon. Thomas W. Ferry, Michigan; (12)
+   Hon. Thomas B. Shannon, California; (13) S. G. Ordway,
+   Sergeant-at-Arms of the House.
+
+   Members in the yard: Left (1) Hon. Isaac N. Arnold, Illinois; (2)
+   Hon. John B. Henderson, Missouri; (3) Hen. Richard Yates,
+   Illinois; (4) Hon. James W. Nye, Nevada; (5) Hon. Henry S. Lane,
+   Indiana; (6) Hon. George H. Williams, Oregon; (7) Hon. George T.
+   Brown, Sergeant-at-Arms of the Senate; (8) Hon. William A.
+   Newell, New Jersey.]
+
+
+
+
+William Allen, D.D., born 1784, died 1868. Graduated at Harvard, 1802.
+President Dartmouth College, 1816-1819, Bowdoin College, 1820-1839. He
+was the father of American Biography, published various volumes of
+poems; as a philologist, he contributed many thousands of words and
+definitions to Webster and Worcester's dictionaries. He was leader of
+the American delegation to the National Peace Congress at Versailles
+in 1849.
+
+
+                  SPRINGFIELD'S WELCOME TO LINCOLN
+
+                Lincoln! thy country's father, hail!
+                We bid thee welcome, but bewail;
+                Welcome unto thy chosen home--
+                Triumphant, glorious, dost thou come.
+
+                Before the enemy struck the blow
+                That laid thee in a moment low,
+                God gave thy wish: It was to see
+                Our Union safe, our country free.
+
+                A country where the gospel truth
+                Shall reach the hearts of age and youth,
+                And move unchained, in majesty,
+                A model land of liberty!
+
+                When Jacob's bones, from Egypt borne,
+                Regained their home, the people mourn;
+                Great mourning then at Ephron's cave,
+                Both Abraham's and Isaac's grave.
+
+                Far greater is the mourning now;
+                For our land one emblem wide of woe;
+                And where thy coffin car appears
+                Do not the people throng in tears?
+
+                Thy triumph of a thousand miles,
+                Like eastern conqueror with his spoils--
+                A million hearts thy captives led,
+                All weeping for their chieftain dead.
+
+                Thy chariot, moved with eagle speed
+                Without the aid of prancing steed,
+                Has brought thee to that destined tomb;
+                Springfield, thy home, will give thee room.
+
+                Lincoln, the martyr, welcome home!
+                What lessons blossom on thy tomb!
+                In God's pure truth and law delight;
+                With firm, unwavering soul do right.
+
+                Be condescending, kind and just;
+                In God's wise counsels put thy trust;
+                Let no proud soul e'er dare rebel,
+                Moved by vile passions sprung from hell.
+
+                Come, sleep with us in sweet repose,
+                Till we, as Christ from death arose,
+                Still in His glorious image rise
+                To dwell with him beyond the skies.
+
+
+
+
+           [Illustration: STATE CAPITOL, ILLINOIS, 1865]
+
+
+The body of the President lay in state in the Capitol, Springfield,
+Illinois--which was very richly draped--from May 3 to May 4, when it
+was removed to Oak Ridge Cemetery.
+
+
+
+
+Lucy Hamilton Hooper, born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, January 20,
+1835. In conjunction with Charles G. Leland she edited _Our Daily
+Fare_, the daily chronicle of the Philadelphia Sanitary Fair in 1864.
+She was assistant editor of _Lippincott's Magazine_ from its
+foundation until she went to Europe in 1870. In 1874 she settled in
+Paris and since has been correspondent for various journals in this
+country. She has published _Poems, with Translations from the German_
+(Philadelphia, 1864), another volume of _Poems_ (1871); a translation
+of _Le Nabob_, by Alphonse Daudet (Boston, 1879); and _Under the
+Tricolor_, a novel (Philadelphia, 1880). She died August 31, 1893.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+             There is a shadow on the sunny air,
+               There is a darkness o'er the April day,
+             We bow our heads beneath this awful cloud
+               So sudden come, and not to pass away.
+
+             O the wild grief that sweeps across our land
+               From frozen Maine to Californian shore!
+             A people's tears, an orphaned nation's wail,
+               For him the good, the great, who is no more.
+
+             The noblest brain that ever toiled for man,
+               The kindest heart that ever thrilled a breast,
+             The lofty soul unstained by soil of earth,
+               Sent by a traitor to a martyr's rest.
+
+             And his last act (O gentle, kindly heart!)
+               The noble prompting of unselfish grace.
+             He would not disappoint the waiting crowd
+               Who came to gaze upon his honored face.
+
+             O God, thy ways are just, and yet we find
+               This dispensation hard to understand.
+             Why must our Prophet's weary feet be stay'd
+               Upon the borders of the Promised Land?
+
+             He bore the heat, the burden of the day,
+               The golden eventide he shall not see;
+             He shall not see the old flag wave again
+               Over a land united, saved, and free.
+
+             He loved his people, and he ever lent
+               To all our griefs a sympathizing ear;
+             Now for the first time in these four sad years
+               The stricken nation wails--he does not hear.
+
+             O never wept a land a nobler Chief!
+               Kind heart, strong hand, true soul--yet, while we weep
+             Let us remember, e'en amid our tears,
+               'Tis God who gives to his beloved sleep.
+
+             So sleeps he now, the chosen man of God,
+               No more shall care or sorrow wring his breast;
+             The weary one and heavy laden, lies
+               Hushed by the voice of God to endless rest.
+
+             We need no solemn knell, no tolling bells,
+               No chanted dirge, no vain words sadly said.
+             The saddest knell that ever stirred the air
+               Rang in those words, "Our President is dead!"
+
+
+
+
+  [Illustration: PUBLIC VAULT, OAK RIDGE CEMETERY, SPRINGFIELD, ILL.,
+
+                  On the day of Lincoln's funeral]
+
+
+The remains of President Lincoln were deposited in this receiving
+vault of Oak Ridge Cemetery, Springfield, Illinois, on the 4th of May,
+1865, where they remained until December 21, 1865, when they were
+removed to a temporary vault near the site of the public one. On
+September 19, 1871, the remains were removed to the monument which had
+been erected and which stands on the top of the hill in that cemetery
+back of the public vault. The remains of Mrs. Lincoln, Willie and
+Thomas (Tad), are also resting there.
+
+
+
+
+                      LET THE PRESIDENT SLEEP
+
+                       _By James M. Stewart_
+
+
+      Let the President sleep! all his duty is done,
+      He has lived for our glory, the triumph is won;
+      At the close of the fight, like a warrior brave,
+      He retires from the field to the rest of the grave.
+      Hush the roll of the drum, hush the cannon's loud roar,
+      He will guide us to peace through the battle no more;
+      But new freedom shall dawn from the place of his rest,
+      Where the star has gone down in the beautiful West.
+      Tread lightly, breathe softly, and gratefully bring
+      To the sod that enfolds him the first flowers of spring;
+      They will tenderly treasure the tears that we weep
+      O'er the grave of our chief--let the President sleep.
+
+      Let the President sleep--tears will hallow the ground,
+      Where we raise o'er his ashes the sheltering mound,
+      And his spirit will sometimes return from above,
+      There to mingle with ours in ineffable love.
+      Peace to thee, noble dead, thou hast battled for right,
+      And hast won high reward from the Father of Light;
+      Peace to thee, martyr-hero, and sweet be thy rest,
+      Where the sunlight fades out in the beautiful West.
+      Tread lightly, breathe softly, and gratefully bring
+      To the sod that enfolds him the first flowers of spring;
+      They will tenderly treasure the tears that we weep
+      O'er the grave of our chief--let the President sleep!
+
+
+
+
+               [Illustration: FACADE OF PUBLIC VAULT
+
+    Oak Ridge Cemetery, Springfield, Illinois, in which the body
+                of Lincoln was placed, May 4, 1865]
+
+
+
+
+James Mackay, born in New York, April 8, 1872. Author of _The Economy
+of Happiness_, _The Politics of Utility_, and of various lectures on
+Scientific Ethics, etc.
+
+
+                      THE CENOTAPH OF LINCOLN
+
+          And so they buried Lincoln? Strange and vain
+          Has any creature thought of Lincoln hid
+          In any vault 'neath any coffin lid,
+          In all the years since that wild spring of pain?
+          'Tis false--he never in the grave hath lain.
+          You could not bury him although you slid
+          Upon his clay the Cheops Pyramid,
+          Or heaped it with the Rocky Mountain chain.
+          They slew themselves;--they but set Lincoln free.
+          In all the earth his great heart beats as strong,
+          Shall beat while pulses throb to chivalry,
+          And burn with hate of tyranny and wrong.
+          Whoever will may find him, anywhere
+          Save in the tomb. Not there--he is not there.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: LINCOLN MONUMENT
+
+         Springfield, Illinois, Larken G. Mead, Architect]
+
+
+A movement was started shortly after the burial of Lincoln to raise
+funds sufficient to build a monument over his grave. Contributions
+were made by various States and societies, and about sixty thousand
+Sunday-school scholars contributed the sum of eighteen thousand
+dollars. Ground was broken on the 9th of September, 1869, and the
+monument was dedicated on the 15th of October, 1874, at a total cost
+of two hundred and thirty thousand dollars.
+
+
+
+
+James Judson Lord, born at Berwick, Maine, in 1821. He had the
+advantage of an excellent early education followed by years of
+research. During his preparatory studies at Cambridge he met
+Longfellow, who loaned him books from his own library. For a time he
+studied art under prominent masters, but his health failing, after a
+time of forced leisure he went into the mercantile business in Boston,
+which vocation he afterward followed. In 1851 he went to Illinois;
+finally, after his marriage, settling in Springfield. There he knew
+Mr. Lincoln, with whom he was on terms of closest friendship.
+
+The poem submitted by Mr. Lord was selected for reading at the
+dedication of the National Lincoln Monument in a competition which
+brought contributions from many leading poets.
+
+He was the author of several dramas, and from time to time contributed
+poems to leading magazines and newspapers of the country. He died
+January 3, 1905.
+
+
+                          DEDICATION POEM
+
+        _Read by Richard Edwards, LL.D., President Illinois
+         State Normal University at Bloomington, Illinois_
+
+             We build not here a temple or a shrine,
+             Nor hero-fane to demigods divine;
+             Nor to the clouds a superstructure rear
+             For man's ambition or for servile fear.
+             Not to the Dust, but to the Deeds alone
+             A grateful people raise th' historic stone;
+             For where a patriot lived, or hero fell,
+             The daisied turf would mark the spot as well.
+
+             What though the Pyramids, with apex high,
+             Like Alpine peaks cleave Egypt's rainless sky,
+             And cast grim shadows o'er a desert land
+             Forever blighted by oppression's hand?
+             No patriot zeal their deep foundations laid--
+             No freeman's hand their darken'd chambers made--
+             No public weal inspired the heart with love,
+             To see their summits towering high above.
+             The ruling Pharaoh, proud and gory-stained,
+             With vain ambitions never yet attained;--
+             With brow enclouded as his marble throne,
+             And heart unyielding as the building stone;--
+             Sought with the scourge to make mankind his slaves,
+             And heaven's free sunlight darker than their graves.
+             His but to will, and theirs to yield and feel,
+             Like vermin'd dust beneath his iron heel;--
+             Denies all mercy, and all right offends,
+             Till on his head th' avenging Plague descends.
+
+             Historic justice bids the nations know
+             That through each land of slaves a Nile of blood
+                 shall flow:
+             And Vendome Columns, on a people thrust,
+             Are, by the people, level'd with the dust.
+
+             Nor stone, nor bronze, can fit memorials yield
+             For deeds of valor on the bloody field,
+             'Neath war's dark clouds the sturdy volunteer,
+             By freedom taught his country to revere,
+             Bids home and friends a hasty, sad adieu,
+             And treads where dangers all his steps pursue;
+             Finds cold and famine on his dauntless way,
+             And with mute patience brooks the long delay,
+             Or hears the trumpet, or the thrilling drum
+             Peal the long roll that calls: "They come! they come!"
+             Then to the front with battling hosts he flies,
+             And lives to triumph, or for freedom dies.
+             Thund'ring amain along the rocky strand,
+             The Ocean claims her honors with the Land.
+             Loud on the gale she chimes the wild refrain,
+             Or with low murmur wails her heroes slain!
+             In gory hulks, with splinter'd mast and spar,
+             Rocks on her stormy breast the valiant Tar:--
+             Lash'd to the mast he gives the high command,
+             Or midst the fight, sinks with the _Cumberland_.
+
+             Beloved banner of the azure sky,
+             Thy rightful home where'er thy eagles fly;
+             On thy blue field the stars of heav'n descend,
+             And to our day a purer luster lend.
+             O, Righteous God! who guard'st the right alway,
+             And bade Thy peace to come, "and come to stay":
+             And while war's deluge fill'd the land with blood,
+             With bow of promise arch'd the crimson flood,--
+             From fratricidal strife our banner screen,
+             And let it float henceforth in skies serene.
+
+             Yet cunning art shall here her triumphs bring,
+             And laurel'd bards their choicest anthems sing.
+             Here, honor'd age shall bare its wintery brow,
+             And youth to freedom make a Spartan vow.
+             Here, ripened manhood from its walks profound,
+             Shall come and halt, as if on hallow'd ground.
+
+             Here shall the urn with fragrant wreaths be drest,
+             By tender hands the flow'ry tributes prest;
+             And wending westward, from oppressions far,
+             Shall pilgrims come, led by our freedom-star;
+             While bending lowly, as o'er friendly pall,
+             The silent tear from ebon cheeks shall fall.
+
+             Sterile and vain the tributes which we pay--
+             It is the Past that consecrates today
+             The spot where rests one of the noble few
+             Who saw the right, and dared the right to do.
+             True to himself and to his fellow men,
+             With patient hand he moved the potent pen,
+             Whose inky stream did, like the Red Sea's flow,
+             Such bondage break and such a host o'erthrow!
+             The simple parchment on its fleeting page
+             Bespeaks the import of the better age,--
+             When man, for man, no more shall forge the chain,
+             Nor armies tread the shore, nor navies plow the main.
+             Then shall this boon to human freedom given
+             Be fitly deem'd a sacred gift of heaven;--
+             Though of the earth, it is no less divine,--
+             Founded on truth it will forever shine,
+             Reflecting rays from heaven's unchanging plan--
+             The law of right and brotherhood of man.
+
+
+
+
+Edna Dean Proctor, born in Henniker, New Hampshire, October 10, 1838.
+She received her early education in Concord and subsequently removed
+to Brooklyn, New York. She contributed largely to magazine literature
+and has traveled extensively abroad. Of all her poems _By the
+Shenandoah_ is probably the most popular.
+
+
+                     THE GRAVE OF LINCOLN
+
+                 Now must the storied Potomac
+                   Laurels forever divide;
+                 Now to the Sangamon fameless
+                   Give of its century's pride.
+                 Sangamon, stream of the prairies,
+                   Placidly westward that flows,
+                 Far in whose city of silence
+                   Calm he has sought his repose.
+                 Over our Washington's river
+                   Sunrise beams rosy and fair;
+                 Sunset on Sangamon fairer,--
+                   Father and martyr lies there.
+
+                 Break into blossom, O prairie!
+                   Snowy and golden and red;
+                 Peers of the Palestine lilies
+                   Heap for your Glorious Dead!
+                 Roses as fair as of Sharon,
+                   Branches as stately as palm,
+                 Odors as rich as the spices--
+                   Cassia and aloes and balm--
+                 Mary the loved and Salome,
+                   All with a gracious accord,
+                 Ere the first glow of the morning
+                   Brought to the tomb of the Lord.
+
+                 Not for thy sheaves nor savannas
+                   Crown we thee, proud Illinois!
+                 Here in his grave is thy grandeur;
+                   Born of his sorrow thy joy.
+                 Only the tomb by Mount Zion,
+                   Hewn for the Lord, do we hold
+                 Dearer than his in thy prairies,
+                   Girdled with harvests of gold!
+                 Still for the world through the ages
+                   Wreathing with glory his brow,
+                 He shall be Liberty's Saviour;
+                   Freedom's Jerusalem thou!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+     In Lincoln Park, Washington, D. C. Thomas Ball, sculptor.]
+
+
+The first contribution of five dollars for the statue in Lincoln Park,
+Washington, D. C., was made by a colored woman named Charlotte Scott,
+of Marietta, Ohio, the morning after the assassination of President
+Lincoln, and the entire cost of said monument, amounting to $17,000,
+was paid by subscriptions of colored people. It was unveiled April 14,
+1876.
+
+
+
+
+James Russell Lowell, born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, February 22,
+1819. He received his degree in 1838, at Harvard, and his first
+production was a class poem which was delivered on that date. He was
+successor of Professor Longfellow in the chair of Modern Languages at
+Harvard College. In 1877 he was appointed by President Hayes to the
+Spanish Mission, from which he was transferred in 1880 to the Court of
+St. James. A long list of poetical works have been published to his
+credit. He died August 12, 1891.
+
+
+                         COMMEMORATION ODE
+
+             Life may be given in many ways,
+             And loyalty to Truth be sealed
+               As bravely in the closet as the field,
+             So bountiful is Fate;
+               But then to stand beside her,
+               When craven churls deride her,
+             To front a lie in arms and not to yield,
+               This shows, methinks, God's plan
+               And measures of a stalwart man,
+             Limbed like the old heroic breeds,
+               Who stand self-poised on manhood's solid earth;
+               Not forced to frame excuses for his birth,
+             Fed from within with all the strength he needs.
+
+             Such was he, our Martyr-Chief,
+               Whom late the Nation he had led,
+               With ashes on her head,
+             Wept with the passion of an angry grief;
+             Forgive me, if from present things I turn
+             To speak what in my heart will beat and burn,
+             And hang my wreath on his world-honored urn.
+               Nature, they say, doth dote,
+               And cannot make a man
+               Save on some worn-out plan,
+               Repeating us by rote:
+             For him her Old World molds aside she threw,
+               And, choosing sweet clay from the breast
+               Of the unexhausted West,
+
+             With stuff untainted shaped a hero new,
+             Wise, steadfast in the strength of God, and true.
+                 How beautiful to see
+             Once more a shepherd of mankind indeed,
+             Who loved his charge, but never loved to lead;
+             One whose meek flock the people joyed to be,
+               Not lured by any cheat of birth,
+               But by his clear-grained human worth,
+             And brave old wisdom of sincerity!
+               They knew that outward grace is dust;
+               They could not choose but trust
+             In that sure-footed mind's unfaltering skill,
+                 And supple-tempered will
+             That bent like perfect steel to spring again and thrust!
+
+             His was no lonely mountain-peak of mind,
+               Thrusting to thin air o'er our cloudy bars,
+             A sea-mark now, now lost in vapors blind;
+             Broad prairie rather, genial, level-lined,
+             Fruitful and friendly for all human kind,
+               Yet also nigh to heaven and loved of loftiest stars.
+                 Nothing of Europe here,
+             Or, then, of Europe fronting mornward still,
+                 Ere any names of Serf or Peer
+               Could Nature's equal scheme deface;
+               Here was a type of the true elder race,
+             And one of Plutarch's men talked with us face to face.
+
+             I praise him not; it were too late;
+               And some innative weakness there must be
+               In him who condescends to victory
+             Such as the present gives, and cannot wait,
+             Safe in himself as in a fate.
+                 So always firmly he;
+             He knew to bide his time,
+                 And can his fame abide,
+             Still patient in his simple faith sublime,
+                 Till the wise years decide.
+             Great captains, with their guns and drums,
+                 Disturb our judgment for the hour,
+             But at last silence comes;
+                 These are all gone, and, standing like a tower,
+             Our children shall behold his fame,
+                 The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing man,
+             Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame,
+                 New birth of our new soil, the first American.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+                        By Leonard W. Volk]
+
+
+
+
+Richard Henry Stoddard, born in Hingham, Massachusetts, July 2, 1825.
+His first book, entitled _Foot Prints_, was published in 1849, and
+some three years after a more mature collection of poems was
+published. In later years a number of his books were published, all of
+which have been received with approbation by the public. Died May 12,
+1903.
+
+
+                          AN HORATIAN ODE
+
+                           (_To Lincoln_)
+
+                Not as when some great captain falls
+                In battle, where his country calls,
+                    Beyond the struggling lines
+                    That push his dread designs
+
+                To doom, by some stray ball struck dead:
+                Or in the last charge, at the head
+                    Of his determined men,
+                    Who must be victors then!
+
+                Nor as when sink the civic great,
+                The safer pillars of the State,
+                    Whose calm, mature, wise words
+                    Suppress the need of swords!
+
+                With no such tears as e'er were shed
+                Above the noblest of our dead
+                    Do we today deplore
+                    The man that is no more.
+
+                Our sorrow hath a wider scope,
+                Too strange for fear, too vast for hope,--
+                    A wonder, blind and dumb,
+                    That waits--what is to come!
+
+                Not more astonished had we been
+                If madness, that dark night, unseen,
+                    Had in our chambers crept,
+                    And murdered while we slept!
+
+                We woke to find a mourning earth--
+                Our Lares shivered on the hearth,--
+                    To roof-tree fallen--all
+                    That could affright, appall!
+
+                Such thunderbolts, in other lands,
+                Have smitten the rod from royal hands,
+                    But spared, with us, till now,
+                    Each laureled Caesar's brow.
+
+                No Caesar he, whom we lament,
+                A man without a precedent,
+                    Sent it would seem, to do
+                    His work--and perish too!
+
+                Not by the weary cares of state,
+                The endless tasks, which will not wait,
+                    Which, often done in vain,
+                    Must yet be done again;
+
+                Not in the dark, wild tide of war,
+                Which rose so high, and rolled so far,
+                    Sweeping from sea to sea
+                    In awful anarchy;--
+
+                Four fateful years of mortal strife,
+                Which slowly drained the Nation's life,
+                    (Yet, for each drop that ran
+                    There sprang an armed man!)
+
+                Not then;--but when by measures meet--
+                By victory, and by defeat,
+                    By courage, patience, skill,
+                    The people's fixed "We will!"
+
+                Had pierced, had crushed rebellion dead--
+                Without a hand, without a head:--
+                    At last, when all was well,
+                    He fell--O, how he fell!
+
+                Tyrants have fallen by such as thou,
+                And good hath followed,--may it now!
+                    (God lets bad instruments
+                    Produce the best events.)
+
+                But he, the man we mourn today,
+                No tyrant was; so mild a sway
+                    In one such weight who bore
+                    Was never known before!
+
+             _From "Poems of Richard Henry Stoddard"_
+           Copyright, 1880, by Charles Scribner's Sons.
+
+
+
+
+        [Illustration: "THE GOOD GRAY POET" (Walt Whitman)]
+
+
+Walt Whitman, born in West Hills, Long Island, New York, May 31, 1819.
+He was educated in the public schools of Brooklyn and New York City.
+Learned the printing trade at which he worked during the summer and
+taught school in winter. He made long pedestrian tours through the
+United States and even extended his tramps through Canada. His chief
+work, _Leaves of Grass_, is a series of poems through which he earned
+the praise of some and the abuse of others. He visited the army when a
+brother was wounded and remained afterward as a volunteer nurse. Died
+1892.
+
+
+                       O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!
+
+  O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
+  The ship has weather'd every wrack, the prize we sought is won;
+  The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
+  While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel firm and daring;
+
+                   But O heart! heart! heart!
+                     O the bleeding drops of red,
+                   Where on the deck my Captain lies,
+                     Fallen, cold and dead.
+
+  O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
+  Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills;
+  For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths--for you the shores
+       a-crowding;
+  For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
+
+                   Here, Captain! dear Father!
+                     This arm beneath your head;
+                   It is some dream that on the deck
+                     You've fallen cold and dead.
+
+  My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
+  My Father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
+  The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
+  From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
+
+                   Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
+                     But I, with mournful tread,
+                   Walk the deck where my Captain lies,
+                     Fallen, cold and dead.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+  By Lott Flannery, in front of the Court House, Washington Unveiled
+                          April 16, 1868]
+
+
+
+
+Henry de Garrs, of Sheffield, England, wrote these lines on the
+assassination of Abraham Lincoln in 1865. They were published in
+England in 1889, and later in America, in the _Century_.
+
+
+                  ON THE ASSASSINATION OF LINCOLN
+
+            What dreadful rumor, hurtling o'er the sea,
+            Too monstrous for belief, assails our shore?
+            Men pause and question, Can such foul crime be?
+            Till lingering doubt may cling to hope no more.
+            Not when great Caesar weltered in his gore,
+            Nor since, in time, or circumstance, or place,
+            Hath crime so shook the World's great heart before.
+            O World! O World! of all thy records base,
+            Time wears no fouler scar on his time-smitten face.
+
+            A king of men, inured to hardy toil,
+            Rose truly royal up the steeps of life,
+            Till Europe's monarchs seemed to dwarf the while
+            Beneath his greatness--great when traitors rife
+            Pierced deep his country's heart with treason-knife;
+            But greatest when victorious he stood,
+            Crowning with mercy freedom's greatest strife.
+            The world saw the new light of godlike good
+            Ere the assassin's hand shed his most precious blood.
+
+            Lament thy loss, sad sister of the West:
+            Not one, but many nations with thee weep;
+            Cherish thy martyr on thy wounded breast,
+            And lay him with thy Washington to sleep.
+            Earth holds no fitter sepulcher to keep
+            His royal heart--one of thy kings to be
+            Who reign even from the grave; whose scepters sweep
+            More potent over human destiny
+            Than all ambition's pride and power and majesty.
+
+            Yet, yet rejoice that thou hadst such a son;
+            The mother of such a man should never sigh;
+            Could longer life a nobler cause have won?
+            Could longest age more gloriously die?
+            Oh! lift thy heart, thy mind, thy soul on high
+            With deep maternal pride, that from thy womb
+            Came such a son to scourge hell's foulest lie
+            Out of life's temple. Watchers by his tomb!
+            He is not there, but risen: that grave is
+                 slavery's doom.
+
+
+
+
+         POETICAL TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+                        _By Emily J. Bugbee_
+
+
+        There's a burden of grief on the breezes of Spring,
+        And a song of regret from the bird on its wing;
+        There's a pall on the sunshine and over the flowers,
+        And a shadow of graves on these spirits of ours;
+        For a star hath gone out from the night of our sky,
+        On whose brightness we gazed as the war-cloud roll'd by;
+        So tranquil, and steady, and clear were its beams,
+        That they fell like a vision of peace on our dreams.
+
+        A heart that we knew had been true to our weal,
+        And a hand that was steadily guiding the wheel;
+        A name never tarnished by falsehood or wrong,
+        That had dwelt in our hearts like a soul-stirring song.
+        Ah! that pure, noble spirit has gone to its rest,
+        And the true hand lies nerveless and cold on his breast;
+        But the name and the memory--_these_ never will die,
+        But grow brighter and dearer as ages go by.
+
+        Yet the tears of a Nation fall over the dead,
+        Such tears as a Nation before never shed;
+        For our cherished one fell by a dastardly hand,
+        A martyr to truth and the cause of the land;
+        And a sorrow has surged, like the waves to the shore,
+        When the breath of the tempest is sweeping them o'er,
+        And the heads of the lofty and lowly have bowed,
+        As the shaft of the lightning sped out from the cloud.
+
+        Not gathered, like Washington, home to his rest,
+        When the sun of his life was far down in the West;
+        But stricken from earth in the midst of his years,
+        With the Canaan in view, of his prayers and his tears.
+        And the people, whose hearts in the wilderness failed,
+        Sometimes, when the star of their promise had paled,
+        Now, stand by his side on the mount of his fame,
+        And yield him their hearts in a grateful acclaim.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+           Muskegon, Michigan, Charles Niehaus, sculptor]
+
+
+
+
+John Nichol, born at Montrose, Forfarshire, Scotland, September 8,
+1833. He was a professor of English Literature at the University of
+Glasgow (1861-1889), and did much to make American books popular in
+England. His numerous publications include: _Leaves_ (1854), verse;
+_Tables of European History, 200-1876 A.D._ (1876); fourth edition
+(1888); _Byron in English Men of Letters series_; _American
+Literature, 1520-1880_ (1882). He was an ardent advocate of the
+Northern cause during the Civil War, and visited the United States at
+the close of the conflict. He died at London, England, October 11,
+1894.
+
+
+                           LINCOLN, 1865
+
+            An end at last! The echoes of the war--
+              The weary war beyond the Western waves--
+            Die in the distance. Freedom's rising star
+              Beacons above a hundred thousand graves;
+
+            The graves of heroes who have won the fight,
+              Who in the storming of the stubborn town
+            Have rung the marriage peal of might and right,
+              And scaled the cliffs and cast the dragon down.
+
+            P�ans of armies thrill across the sea,
+              Till Europe answers--"Let the struggle cease.
+            The bloody page is turned; the next may be
+              For ways of pleasantness and paths of peace!"
+
+            A golden morn--a dawn of better things--
+              The olive-branch--clasping of hands again--
+            A noble lesson read to conquered kings--
+              A sky that tempests had not scoured in vain.
+
+            This from America we hoped and him
+              Who ruled her "in the spirit of his creed."
+            Does the hope last when all our eyes are dim,
+              As history records her darkest deed?
+
+            The pilot of his people through the strife,
+              With his strong purpose turning scorn to praise,
+            E'en at the close of battle reft of life
+              And fair inheritance of quiet days.
+
+            Defeat and triumph found him calm and just,
+              He showed how clemency should temper power,
+            And, dying, left to future times in trust
+              The memory of his brief victorious hour.
+
+            O'ermastered by the irony of fate,
+              The last and greatest martyr of his cause;
+            Slain like Achilles at the Sc�an gate,
+              He saw the end, and fixed "the purer laws."
+
+            May these endure and, as his work, attest
+              The glory of his honest heart and hand--
+            The simplest, and the bravest, and the best--
+              The Moses and the Cromwell of his land.
+
+            Too late the pioneers of modern spite,
+              Awe-stricken by the universal gloom,
+            See his name lustrous in Death's sable night,
+              And offer tardy tribute at his tomb.
+
+            But we who have been with him all the while,
+              Who knew his worth, and loved him long ago,
+            Rejoice that in the circuit of our isle
+              There is at last no room for Lincoln's foe.
+
+
+
+
+                 [Illustration: LINCOLN AND CABINET
+
+       "The First Reading of the Emancipation Proclamation."
+                   Painted by Frank B. Carpenter.
+
+    From left to right--Edwin M. Stanton, Secretary of War; Salmon
+    P. Chase, Secretary of the Treasury; President Lincoln; Gideon
+    Welles, Secretary of the Navy; William H. Seward, Secretary of
+    State; J. P. Usher, Secretary of the Interior; Montgomery Blair,
+    Postmaster-General; Edward Bates, Attorney-General]
+
+
+
+
+Christopher Pearse Cranch, born in Alexandria, Virginia, March 8,
+1813. Graduated at the school of Divinity, Cambridge, Massachusetts,
+in 1835, but retired from the ministry in 1842 to devote himself to
+art. He studied in Italy in 1846-8, and lived and painted in 1853-63,
+and, returning to New York, was elected a member of the National
+Academy in 1864. He was a graceful writer of both prose and verse.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+       But yesterday--the exulting nation's shout
+         Swelled on the breeze of victory through our streets,
+       But yesterday--our banners flaunted out
+         Like flowers the south wind woos from their retreats;
+       Flowers of the nation, blue, and white, and red,
+         Waving from balcony, and spire, and mast;
+       Which told us that war's wintry storm had fled,
+         And spring was more than spring to us at last.
+
+       Today the nation's heart lies crushed and weak;
+         Drooping and draped in black our banners stand.
+       Too stunned to cry revenge, we scarce may speak
+         The grief that chokes all utterance through the land.
+       God is in all. With tears our eyes are dim,
+         Yet strive through darkness to look to Him!
+
+       No, not in vain he died--not all in vain,
+         Our good, great President! This people's hands
+       Are linked together in one mighty chain
+         Drawn tighter still in triple-woven bands
+       To crush the fiends in human masks, whose might
+         We suffer, oh, too long! No league, nor truce
+       Save men with men! The devils we must fight
+         With fire! God wills it in this deed. This use
+       We draw from the most impious murder done
+         Since Calvary. Rise then, O Countrymen!
+       Scatter these marsh-lights hopes of Union won
+         Through pardoning clemency. Strike, strike again!
+       Draw closer round the foe a girdling flame.
+         We are stabbed whene'er we spare--strike in God's name!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+    Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Randolph Rogers,
+               sculptor. Unveiled November 26, 1869]
+
+
+
+
+George Henry Boker, born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, on the 6th day
+of October, 1823. Graduated at Princeton in 1842, and afterward
+studied law. In the year 1847, after his return from an extended tour
+in Europe, he published _The Lessons of Life and Other Poems_. He also
+produced a number of plays which were successfully produced upon the
+stage, both in England and America. During the War of the Rebellion he
+wrote a number of patriotic lyrics, collected and published in a
+volume under the title of _Poems of the War_. He has also written
+other poems and articles in prose which have received high praise.
+
+In the year 1871 he was appointed by President Grant as our United
+States Minister to Turkey, but in 1875 was transferred to the more
+important Mission of Russia.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+             Crown we our heroes with a holier wreath
+             Than man e'er wore upon this side of death;
+             Mix with their laurels deathless asphodels,
+             And chime their p�ans from the sacred bells!
+             Nor in your praises forget the martyred Chief,
+             Fallen for the gospel of your own belief,
+             Who, ere he mounted to the people's throne,
+             Asked for your prayers, and joined in them his own.
+             I knew the man. I see him, as he stands
+             With gifts of mercy in his outstretched hands;
+             A kindly light within his gentle eyes,
+             Sad as the toil in which his heart grew wise;
+             His lips half parted with the constant smile
+             That kindled truth, but foiled the deepest guile;
+             His head bent forward, and his willing ear
+             Divinely patient right and wrong to hear:
+             Great in his goodness, humble in his state,
+             Firm in his purpose, yet not passionate,
+             He led his people with a tender hand,
+             And won by love a sway beyond command.
+             Summoned by lot to mitigate a time
+             Frenzied with rage, unscrupulous with crime,
+             He bore his mission with so meek a heart
+             That Heaven itself took up his people's part;
+             And when he faltered, helped him ere he fell,
+             Eking his efforts out by miracle.
+             No king this man, by grace of God's intent;
+             No, something better, freeman,--President!
+             A nature modeled on a higher plan,
+             Lord of himself, an inborn gentleman!
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+                       Photo by Brady, 1864]
+
+
+
+
+Phoebe Cary was born near Cincinnati, Ohio, September 24, 1824. Her
+advantages for education were somewhat better than those of her sister
+Alice, whose almost inseparable companion she became at an early age.
+They were quite different, however, in temperament, in person and in
+mental constitution. Phoebe began to write verse at the age of
+seventeen years, and one of her earliest poems, _Nearer Home_,
+beginning with "One sweetly solemn thought," won her a world-wide
+reputation. In the joint housekeeping in New York she took from choice
+(Alice being for many years an invalid) the larger share of duties
+upon herself, and hence found little opportunity for literary work.
+In society, however, she was brilliant, but at all times kindly. She
+wrote a touching tribute to her sister's memory, published in the
+_Ladies' Repository_ a few days before her own death, which occurred
+at Newport, R. I., July 31, 1871. In the volume of _Poems of Alice and
+Phoebe Cary_ (Philadelphia, 1850) but about one-third were written by
+Phoebe. Her independently published books are _Poems and Parodies_
+(1854), and _Poems of Faith, Hope and Love_ (1868).
+
+
+                          ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+              Our sun hath gone down at the noonday,
+                The heavens are black;
+              And over the morning the shadows
+                Of night-time are back.
+
+              Stop the proud boasting mouth of the cannon,
+                Hush the mirth and the shout;
+              God is God! and the ways of Jehovah
+                Are past finding out.
+
+              Lo! the beautiful feet on the mountains,
+                That yesterday stood;
+              The white feet that came with glad tidings
+                Are dabbled in blood.
+
+              The Nation that firmly was settling
+                The crown on her head,
+              Sits, like Rizpah, in sackcloth and ashes,
+                And watches her dead.
+
+              Who is dead? who, unmoved by our wailing
+                Is lying so low?
+              O, my Land, stricken dumb in your anguish,
+                Do you feel, do you know?
+
+              Once this good man we mourn, overwearied,
+                Worn, anxious, oppressed,
+              Was going out from his audience chamber
+                For a season to rest;
+
+              Unheeding the thousands who waited
+                To honor and greet,
+              When the cry of a child smote upon him
+                And turned back his feet.
+
+              "Three days hath a woman been waiting,"
+                Said they, "patient and meek."
+              And he answered, "Whatever her errand,
+                Let me hear; let her speak!"
+
+              So she came, and stood trembling before him
+                And pleaded her cause;
+              Told him all; how her child's erring father
+                Had broken the laws.
+
+              Humbly spake she: "I mourn for his folly,
+                His weakness, his fall";
+              Proudly spake she: "he is not a TRAITOR,
+                And I love him through all!"
+
+              Then the great man, whose heart had been shaken
+                By a little babe's cry;
+              Answered soft, taking counsel of mercy,
+                "This man shall not die!"
+
+              Why, he heard from the dungeons, the rice-fields,
+                The dark holds of ships;
+              Every faint, feeble cry which oppression
+                Smothered down on men's lips.
+
+              In her furnace, the centuries had welded
+                Their fetter and chain;
+              And like withes, in the hands of his purpose,
+                He snapped them in twain.
+
+              Who can be what he was to the people;
+                What he was to the State?
+              Shall the ages bring to us another
+                As good and as great?
+
+              Our hearts with their anguish are broken,
+                Our wet eyes are dim;
+              For us is the loss and the sorrow,
+                The triumph for him!
+
+              For, ere this, face to face with his Father
+                Our Martyr hath stood;
+              Giving into his hand the white record
+                With its great seal of blood!
+
+              That the hand which reached out of the darkness
+                Hath taken the whole?
+              Yea, the arm and the head of the people--
+                The heart and the soul!
+
+              And that heart, o'er whose dread awful silence
+                A nation has wept;
+              Was the truest, and gentlest, and sweetest
+                A man ever kept!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+   By Augustus Saint Gaudens, in Lincoln Park, Chicago, Illinois]
+
+
+On the 22nd of October, 1887, this statue by Saint Gaudens was
+unveiled, Mr. Eli Bates donating $40,000 for that purpose. There is a
+vast oval of cut stone, thirty by sixty feet, the interior fashioned
+to form a classic bench, and the statue stands on a stone pedestal.
+The sculptor represents him as an orator, just risen from his chair,
+which is shown behind him, and waiting for the audience to become
+quiet before beginning his speech. The attitude is that always assumed
+by Lincoln at the beginning--one hand behind him, and the other
+grasping the lapel of his coat. He appears the very incarnation of
+rugged grandeur which held the master mind of this age.
+
+
+
+
+Charles Graham Halpin (Miles O'Reilly) was born near Oldcastle, County
+of Meath, Ireland, November 20, 1829. Graduated from Trinity College,
+Dublin, in 1846. He entered the field of journalism as a profession
+and soon gained a reputation in England. Came to New York in 1852 and
+secured employment with the _Herald_, was later connected with other
+papers. Enlisted in April, 1861, and became lieutenant of Colonel
+Corcoran's 69th Regiment, rising to the rank of brigadier-general. He
+died in New York City, August 3, 1868.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+               He filled the Nation's eyes and heart,
+                 An honored, loved, familiar name;
+                 So much a brother that his fame
+               Seemed of our lives a common part.
+
+               His towering figure, sharp and spare,
+                 Was with such nervous tension strung,
+                 As if on each strained sinew swung
+               The burden of a people's care.
+
+               His changing face, what pen can draw--
+                 Pathetic, kindly, droll or stern;
+                 And with a glance so quick to learn
+               The inmost truth of all he saw.
+
+               Pride found no place to spawn
+                 Her fancies in his busy mind.
+                 His worth, like health or air, could find
+               No just appraisal till withdrawn.
+
+               He was his country's--not his own;
+                 He had no wish but for the weak,
+                 Nor for himself could think or feel,
+               But as a laborer for her throne.
+
+               Her flag upon the heights of power--
+                 Stainless and unassayed to place,
+                 To this one end his earnest face
+               Was bent through every burdened hour.
+
+                 .       .       .       .       .
+
+               But done the battle--won the strife;
+                 When torches light his vaulted tomb,
+                 Broad gems flash out and crowns illume
+               The clay-cold brow undecked in life.
+
+                 .       .       .       .       .
+
+               O, loved and lost! Thy patient toil
+                 Had robed our cause in victory's light;
+                 Our country stood redeemed and bright,
+               With not a slave on all her soil.
+
+               'Mid peals of bells and cannon's bark,
+                 And shouting streets with flags abloom,
+                 Sped the shrill arrow of thy doom,
+               And, in an instant, all was dark!
+
+                 .       .       .       .       .
+
+               A martyr to the cause of man,
+                 His blood is Freedom's Eucharist,
+                 And in the world's great hero list
+               His name shall lead the van.
+
+               Yes! ranked on Faith's white wings unfurled
+                 In Heaven's pure light, of him we say,
+                 "He fell on the self-same day
+               A Greater died to save the world."
+
+
+
+
+               [Illustration: TABLET AT PHILADELPHIA
+
+                    Unveiled February 21, 1903]
+
+
+
+
+He who seeks the embodiment of the genius of the Union finds it in the
+apotheosis of the Great Emancipator. There, under the arching skies he
+stands, erect, serene, resplendent; beneath his feet the broken
+shackles of a race redeemed; upon his brow the diadem of liberty with
+law, while around and behind him rise up, as an eternal guard of
+honor, the great army of the Republic.
+
+In the belief that from the martyr's bier as from the battlefield of
+right it is but one step to paradise, may we not, on days like this,
+draw back the veil that separates from our mortal gaze the phantom
+squadrons as they pass again in grand review before their "Martyr
+President."--_From an address by Hiram F. Stevens, read before the
+Minnesota Commandery of the Loyal Legion._
+
+
+                        THE MARTYR PRESIDENT
+
+                  In solid platoons of steel,
+                    Under heaven's triumphant arch,
+                  The long lines break and wheel,
+                    And the order is "Forward, March!"
+                  The colors ripple o'erhead,
+                    The drums roll up to the sky,
+                  And with martial time and tread
+                    The regiments all pass by--
+                  The ranks of the faithful dead
+                    Meeting their president's eye.
+                  March on, your last brave mile!
+                    Salute him, star and lace!
+                  Form 'round him, rank and file,
+                    And look on the kind, rough face.
+                  But the quaint and homely smile
+                    Has a glory and a grace
+                  It has never known erstwhile,
+                    Never in time or space.
+                  Close 'round him, hearts of pride!
+                  Press near him, side by side!
+                    For he stands there not alone.
+                  For the holy right he died,
+                  And Christ, the crucified,
+                    Waits to welcome his own.
+
+
+
+
+                          ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+            _Written for the Lincoln Memorial Album, by
+                       Eugene J. Hall, 1882._
+
+
+        O honored name, revered and undecaying,
+          Engraven on each heart, O soul sublime!
+        That, like a planet through the heavens straying,
+          Outlives the wreck of time!
+
+        O rough, strong soul, your noble self-possession
+          Is unforgotten. Still your work remains.
+        You freed from bondage and from vile oppression
+          A race in clanking chains.
+
+        O furrowed face, beloved by all the nation!
+          O tall gaunt form, to memory fondly dear!
+        O firm, bold hand, our strength and our salvation!
+          O heart that knew no fear!
+
+        Lincoln, your manhood shall survive forever,
+          Shedding a fadeless halo round your name;
+        Urging men on, with wise and strong endeavor,
+          To bright and honest fame!
+
+        Through years of care, to rest and joy a stranger,
+          You saw complete the work you had begun,
+        Thoughtless of threats, nor heeding death or danger,
+          You toiled till all was done.
+
+        You freed the bondman from his iron master,
+          You broke the strong and cruel chains he wore,
+        You saved the Ship of State from foul disaster
+          And brought her safe to shore.
+
+        You fell! An anxious nation's hopes seemed blighted,
+          While millions shuddered at your dreadful fall;
+        But _God is good_! His wondrous hand has righted
+          And reunited all.
+
+        You fell, but in your death you were victorious;
+          To moulder in the tomb your form has gone,
+        While through the world your great soul grows more glorious
+          As years go gliding on!
+
+        All hail, great Chieftain! Long will sweetly cluster
+          A thousand memories round your sacred name,
+        Nor time, nor death shall dim the spotless luster
+          That shines upon your fame.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+     By Vinnie Ream, rotunda of the Capitol, Washington, D. C.]
+
+
+
+
+Samuel Francis Smith, clergyman, born in Boston, Massachusetts,
+October 21, 1808. Attended the Boston Latin School in 1820-5, and was
+graduated at Harvard in 1829 and at Andover Theological Seminary in
+1832. Was ordained to the ministry of the Baptist Church at
+Waterville, Maine, in 1834, where he occupied pastorates from 1834
+until 1842, and at Newton, Massachusetts, 1842 to 1854. Was professor
+of languages in Waterville College while residing in that city, and
+there he also received the degree of D.D. in 1854.
+
+He has done a large amount of literary work, mainly in the line of
+hymnology, his most popular composition being our national hymn, _My
+Country, 'Tis of Thee_, which was written while he was a theological
+student, and first sung at a children's celebration in the Park Street
+Church, Boston, July 4, 1832. _The Morning Light is Breaking_, was
+also written at the same place and time. His classmate, Oliver Wendell
+Holmes, in his reunion poem entitled _The Boys_, thus refers to him:
+
+         "And there's a nice youngster of excellent pith;
+         Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith!
+         But he chanted a song for the brave and the free--
+         Just read on his medal, 'My Country, of Thee!'"
+
+     The following poem was written expressly for the exercises
+     held on the Nineteenth Anniversary of President Lincoln's
+     death, at his tomb, Springfield, Illinois, April 15, 1884.
+
+
+                        THE TOMB OF LINCOLN
+
+       Grandeur and glory await around the bed
+       Where sleeps in lowly peace the illustrious dead;
+       He rose a meteor, upon wondering men,
+       But rose in strength, never to set again.
+       A king of men, though born in lowly state,
+       A man sincerely good and nobly great;
+       Tender, but firm; faithful and kind, and true,
+       The Nation's choice, the Nation's Saviour, too;
+       When Liberty and Truth shall reign for evermore,
+       From Oregon to Florida's perpetual May,
+       From Shasta's awful peak to Massachusetts Bay,--
+       Then our children's children, by the cottage door,
+       In the schoolroom, from the pulpit, at the bar,
+       Shall look up to thee as to a beacon star,
+       And deduce the lesson from thy life and death,
+       That the patriot's lofty courage and the Christian's faith
+       Conquer honors that outweigh ambition's gaudiest prize,
+       Triumph o'er the grave, and open the gates of Paradise.
+
+       Schooled through life's early hardships to endure,
+       To raise the oppressed, to save and shield the poor;
+       Prudent in counsel, honest in debate,
+       Patient to hear and judge, patient to wait;
+       The calm, the wise, the witty and the proved,
+       Whom millions honored, and whom millions loved;
+       Swayed by no baleful lust of pride or power,
+       The shining pageants of the passing hour,
+
+       Led by no scheming arts, no selfish aim,
+       Ambitious for no pomp, nor wealth, nor fame,
+       No planning hypocrite, no pliant tool,
+       A high-born patriot, of Heaven's noblest school;
+       Cool and unshaken in the maddest storm,
+       For in the clouds he traced the Almighty's form;
+       Worn with the weary heart and aching head,
+       Worse than the picket, with his ceaseless tread,
+
+       He kept--as bound by some resistless fate--
+       His broad, strong hand upon the helm of State;
+       Nor turned, in fear, his heart or hope away,
+       Till on the field his tent a ruin lay.
+       His tent, a ruin; but the owner's name
+       Stands on the pinnacle of human fame,
+       Inscribed in lines of light, and nations see,
+       Through him, the people's life and liberty.
+
+       What high ideas, what noble acts he taught!
+       To make men free in life, and limb, and thought,
+       To rise, to soar, to scorn the oppressor's rod,
+       To live in grander life, to live for God;
+       To stand for justice, freedom and the right,
+       To dare the conflict, strong in God's own might;
+       The methods taught by Him, by him were tried,
+       And he, to conscience true, a martyr died.
+
+       As the great sun pursues his heavenly way
+       And fills with life and joy the livelong day,
+       Till, the full journey, in glory dressed,
+       He seeks his crimson couch beneath the west;
+       So, with his labor done, our hero sleeps;
+       Above his tomb a ransomed Nation weeps;
+       And grateful p�ans o'er his ashes rise--
+       Dear is his fame--his glory never dies.
+
+       Bring flowers, fresh flowers, bring plumes with nodding crests,
+       To wreath the tomb where our great hero rests;
+       Bring pipe and tabret, eloquence and song,
+       And sound the loving tribute, loud and long;
+       A Nation bows, and mourns his honored name,
+       A Nation proudly keeps his deathless fame;
+       Let vale and rock, and hill, and land, and sea
+       His memory swell--the anthem of the free.
+
+
+
+
+              [Illustration: STATUE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+         On the State Capitol Grounds at Lincoln, Nebraska.
+    Unveiled September 2, 1912. Daniel Chester French, sculptor]
+
+
+
+
+John Townsend Trowbridge, born September 18, 1827, in Ogden, New York.
+He lived the ordinary life of a country boy, going to school six
+months in the year till he was fourteen, after which he had to work on
+the farm in summer. His books had more interest to him than his work,
+and he managed to learn more out of school than in it. At sixteen he
+wrote articles in verse and prose for magazines and journals. He was a
+contributor to the _Atlantic Monthly_.
+
+During the great rebellion, he wrote several stories of the war: _The
+Drummer Boy_, 1863, and _The Three Scouts_, 1865. On the return of
+peace he spent some four months in the principal southern States, for
+the purpose of gaining accurate views of the condition of society
+there after the war. He published the result of these observations
+June, 1866, in a volume entitled, _The South_. A collected edition of
+his poems was published in 1869, entitled _The Vagabonds, and Other
+Poems_.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+           Heroic soul, in homely garb half hid,
+             Sincere, sagacious, melancholy, quaint;
+           What he endured, no less than what he did,
+             Has reared his monument, and crowned him saint.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+         Burlington, Wisconsin. George E. Ganiere, sculptor
+                     Unveiled October 13, 1913]
+
+
+
+
+Kinahan Cornwallis was born in London, England, December 24, 1839.
+Entered British Colonial Civil Service; two years at Melbourne,
+Australia. Located in New York in 1860, one of the editors and
+correspondent of the _Herald_. Accompanied the Prince of Wales on his
+American tour. Admitted to the New York bar in 1863; financial editor
+and general editorial writer of _New York Herald_, 1860-69. Editor and
+proprietor of _The Knickerbocker Magazine_, afterward of _The Albion_.
+Since 1886 editor and proprietor _Wall Street Daily Investigator_, now
+_Wall Street Daily Investor_. Author of _Howard Plunkett_ (a novel);
+an Australian poem, 1857. The _New Eldorado, or British Columbia_
+(Travels); _Two Journeys to Japan_; _A Panorama of the New World_;
+_Wreck and Ruin, or Modern Society_ (novel); _My Life and Adventures_
+(story), 1859, also of many other histories and novels. Among his poet
+productions are _The Song of America and Columbus_, 1892; _The
+Conquest of Mexico and Peru_, 1893; _The War for the Union, or the
+Duel Between North and South_, 1899.
+
+
+                       HOMAGE DUE TO LINCOLN
+
+             Well may we all to Lincoln homage pay,
+             For patriotic duty points the way,
+             And tells the story of the debt we owe--
+             A debt of gratitude that all should know;
+             And ne'er will perish that historic tale.
+             To him, the Union's great defender, hail!
+             Through battling years he steered the ship of state,
+             And ever proved a captain just and great.
+             Through storm and tempest, and unnumbered woes,
+             While oft assailed in fury by his foes,
+             He held his course, and triumphed over all,
+             Responding ever to his country's call;
+             And more divine than human seemed the deed
+             When he the slave from hellish bondage freed,
+             And from the South its human chattels tore.
+             'Twas his to Man his manhood to restore.
+             That righteous action sealed rebellion's doom,
+             And paved secession's pathway to the tomb.
+             But, lo! when Peace with Union glory, came,
+             And all the country rang with his acclaim--
+             A reunited country, great and strong--
+             A foul assassin marked him for his prey;
+             A bullet sped, and Lincoln dying lay.
+             Alas! Alas! that he should thus have died--
+             His country's leader, and his country's pride!
+             No deed more infamous than this--
+             No fate more cruel and unjust than his--
+             Can in the annals of the world be found.
+             The Nation shuddered in its grief profound,
+             And mourning emblems draped the country o'er
+             Alas! Alas! its leader was no more!
+             But still he lives in his immortal fame,
+             And evermore will Glory gild his name,
+             And keep his memory in eternal view,
+             And o'er his grave unfading garlands strew.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+        At Edinburgh, Scotland, George E. Bissell, sculptor]
+
+
+It is within an inclosed cemetery, known as the Calton burying ground,
+which is separated from the Calton Hill by a wide thoroughfare. The
+statue is the work of an American sculptor, George E. Bissell. It is a
+fine bronze figure, and rests on a massive granite pedestal. The
+figure at the base is that of a freed negro holding up a wreath. On
+one face of the pedestal are Lincoln's words, "To preserve the jewel
+of liberty in the framework of freedom." The statue is a memorial not
+alone to Lincoln; the legend on the pedestal tells that this plot of
+ground was given by the lord provost and town council of Edinburgh to
+Wallace Bruce, United States Consul, and dedicated as a burial place
+for Scottish soldiers of the American Civil War, 1861-65. Cut in the
+granite are the names and records of Scots who fought to preserve the
+Union, and who have found their last resting place in this old burying
+ground at the Scottish capital.
+
+
+David K. Watson was born near London, Madison County, Ohio, June 18,
+1849. Moved to Columbus, Ohio, in 1875, where he now resides. Was
+Assistant United States District Attorney for the Southern District of
+Ohio from 1881 to 1885. Elected Attorney-General of Ohio in 1887 and
+re-elected in 1889. Member of the fifty-fourth Congress. Was member of
+the Commission to revise the Federal Statutes. Author of _History of
+American Coinage_ and _Watson on the Constitution of the United
+States_.
+
+
+                        THE SCOTLAND STATUE
+
+             O Scotland! It was a gracious act in thee
+             To build a monument beside the sea
+             To Lincoln, who wrote the word,
+             And slavery's shackles fell
+             From off a race
+             Which ne'er before could tell
+             What freedom was.
+             To Lincoln, whose soul was great enough to know
+             That beings born in likeness of their God
+             Were meant to live as freemen,
+             Not as slaves, and ruled by slavery's rod.
+             To Lincoln, who more than any of his race
+             Uplifted men and women to the place
+             God made for them.
+             To Lincoln, who never saw your land,
+             And in whose veins no Scottish blood had run;
+             But yet, because of deeds which he had done,
+             His mighty name
+             Had filled the world with fame
+             And taught the people of each land
+             That in God's hand
+             Is held the destiny of races and of man.
+
+             Immortal patriot! through the mist of years
+             That in the future are to come,--
+             When we who saw thee here are gone,--
+             We view thy heaven-aspiring tomb
+             Illumined by the roseate dawn
+             Of the millennial day,
+             When Peace shall hold her sway,
+             And bring Saturnian eras; when the roar
+             O' the battle's thunder shall be heard no more.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+             At Newark, N. J. Gutzon Borglum, sculptor]
+
+
+The statue was unveiled May 30, 1911. It is the gift of Amos H. Van
+Horn, who died December 26, 1908. In his will he set aside $25,000 for
+a memorial to Abraham Lincoln, to be dedicated in memory of Lincoln
+Post, No. 11, Department of New Jersey, G. A. R., of which he was a
+charter member.
+
+
+
+
+Joseph Fulford Folsom, Presbyterian clergyman, miscellaneous writer
+and local historian, is a native of Bloomfield, New Jersey. He is a
+direct descendant of John Folsom who arrived at Boston in the Diligent
+on August 10, 1638, and settled at Hingham, Massachusetts.
+
+Mr. Folsom is the pastor of the Third Presbyterian Church, South, of
+Newark, New Jersey. He has served two terms as Chaplain General of the
+Order of the Founders and Patriots of America. Is Librarian and
+Recording Secretary of the New Jersey Historical Society. Edited and
+wrote three chapters of _Bloomfield, Old and New_, a history of that
+town published in 1912. Wrote the history of the churches of Newark,
+including the _History of Newark, New Jersey_, published in 1913. His
+poem, _The Ballad of Daniel Bray_, is found in the _Patriotic Poems of
+New Jersey_. He is an occasional writer of poems, and contributes
+regularly a column of historical matters, signed "The Lorist."
+
+
+                        THE UNFINISHED WORK
+
+               The crowd was gone, and to the side
+                 Of Borglum's Lincoln, deep in awe,
+               I crept. It seem'd a mighty tide
+                 Within those aching eyes I saw.
+
+               "Great heart," I said, "why grieve alway?
+                 The battle's ended and the shout
+               Shall ring forever and a day,--
+                 Why sorrow yet, or darkly doubt?"
+
+               "Freedom," I plead, "so nobly won
+                 For all mankind, and equal right,
+               Shall with the ages travel on
+                 Till time shall cease, and day be night."
+
+               No answer--then; but up the slope,
+                 With broken gait, and hands in clench,
+               A toiler came, bereft of hope,
+                 And sank beside him on the bench.
+
+
+           [Illustration: CHILDREN ON THE BORGLUM STATUE]
+
+
+
+
+Wendell Phillips Stafford, son of Frank and Sarah (Noyes) Stafford,
+born at Barre, Vermont, May 1, 1861. Educated at Barre Academy and St.
+Johnsbury Academy. Studied law and attended Boston University Law
+School, graduating therefrom in 1883. Admitted to the bar in 1883.
+Practiced law in St. Johnsbury until 1900. Was then appointed to the
+Supreme Court of Vermont. Appointed to the Supreme Court of the
+District of Columbia in 1904, which position he still holds.
+
+Married February 24, 1886, to Miss Florence Sinclair Goss of St.
+Johnsbury. Has contributed to the _Atlantic Monthly_ and other
+magazines. Publications: _North Flowers_ (poems), 1902; _Dorian Days_
+(poems), 1909; _Speeches_, 1913.
+
+
+                       ONE OF OUR PRESIDENTS
+
+                          (_See page 80_)
+
+           He sits there on the low, rude, backless bench,
+           With his tall hat beside him, and one arm
+           Flung, thus, across his knee. The other hand
+           Rests, flat, palm downward, by him on the seat.
+           So �sop may have sat; so Lincoln did.
+           For all the sadness in the sunken eyes,
+           For all the kingship in the uncrowned brow,
+           The great form leans so friendly, father-like,
+           It is a call to children. I have watched
+           Eight at a time swarming upon him there,
+           All clinging to him--riding upon his knees,
+           Cuddling between his arms, clasping his neck,
+           Perched on his shoulders, even on his head;
+           And one small, play-stained hand I saw reached up
+           And laid most softly on the kind bronze lips
+           As if it claimed them. These were the children
+           Of foreigners we call them, but not so
+           They call themselves; for when we asked of one,
+           A restless dark-eyed girl, who this man was,
+           She answered straight, "One of our Presidents."
+
+           "Let all the winds of hell blow in our sails,"
+           I thought, "thank God, thank God the ship rides true!"
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: HEAD OF LINCOLN
+
+    This medal was struck for the Grand Army of the Republic in
+       commemoration of the 100th anniversary of the birth of
+                          Abraham Lincoln]
+
+
+Frank Dempster Sherman, son of John Dempster and Lucy (McFarland)
+Sherman, was born May 6, 1860, at Peekskill, New York; educated at
+home and at Columbia and Howard Universities, and since 1886 connected
+with Columbia University where he is Professor of Graphics. Author of
+several volumes of poems which are published by Houghton-Mifflin
+Company, Boston.
+
+Professor Sherman married, November 16, 1887, Juliet Durand, daughter
+of Rev. Cyrus Bervic and Sarah Elizabeth (Merserveau) Durand.
+
+He is a member of the National Institute of Arts and Letters.
+
+
+                    ON A BRONZE MEDAL OF LINCOLN
+
+          This bronze our Lincoln's noble head doth bear,
+            Behold the strength and splendor of that face,
+            So homely-beautiful, with just a trace
+          Of humor lightening its look of care,
+          With bronze indeed his memory doth share,
+            This martyr who found freedom for a Race;
+            Both shall endure beyond the time and place
+          That knew them first, and brighter grow with wear.
+          Happy must be the genius here that wrought
+            These features of the great American
+              Whose fame lends so much glory to our past--
+          Happy to know the inspiration caught
+            From this most human and heroic man
+              Lives here to honor him while Art shall last.
+
+
+
+
+               [Illustration: MARBLE HEAD OF LINCOLN
+
+  In Statuary Hall, Capitol in Washington, Gutzon Borglum, sculptor]
+
+
+
+
+Ella Wheeler [Wilcox] was born in Johnstown Centre, Wisconsin, in
+1845. Was educated at the public schools at Windsor and at the
+University of Wisconsin. In 1884 she married Robert M. Wilcox.
+Contributed articles for newspapers at an early age and also wrote and
+published a number of books of poems.
+
+
+            THE GLORY THAT SLUMBERED IN THE GRANITE ROCK
+
+            A granite rock on the mountain side
+            Gazed on the world and was satisfied;
+            It watched the centuries come and go--
+            It welcomed the sunlight, and loved the snow,
+            It grieved when the forest was forced to fall,
+            But smiled when the steeples rose, white and tall,
+            In the valley below it, and thrilled to hear
+            The voice of the great town roaring near.
+
+            When the mountain stream from its idle play
+            Was caught by the mill-wheel, and borne away
+            And trained to labor, the gray rock mused:
+            "Tree and verdure and stream are used
+            By man, the master, but I remain
+            Friend of the Mountain, and Star, and Plain;
+            Unchanged forever, by God's decree,
+            While passing centuries bow to me!"
+
+            Then, all unwarned, with a heavy shock
+            Down from the mountain was wrenched the rock.
+            Bruised and battered and broken in heart,
+            He was carried away to a common mart.
+            Wrecked and ruined in peace and pride,
+            "Oh, God is cruel!" the granite cried;
+            "Comrade of Mountain, of Star the friend--
+            By all deserted--how sad my end!"
+
+            A dreaming sculptor, in passing by,
+            Gazed on the granite with thoughtful eye;
+            Then, stirred with a purpose supreme and grand,
+            He bade his dream in the rock expand--
+            And lo! from the broken and shapeless mass,
+            That grieved and doubted, it came to pass
+            That a glorious statue, of infinite worth--
+            A statue of LINCOLN--adorned the earth.
+
+
+
+
+                 [Illustration: THE LINCOLN BOULDER
+
+                          At Nyack, N. Y.]
+
+
+This boulder had been for two hundred and fifty years a landmark near
+the Western shore of the Hudson River, opposite Upper Nyack. The
+school children of Nyack contributed the funds to remove it from its
+ancient bed and place it in front of the Nyack Carnegie Library, where
+it now stands and probably will stand for thousands of years to come,
+a monument to the memory of Abraham Lincoln.
+
+The boulder contains the Gettysburg address and was dedicated June 13,
+1908.
+
+
+Louis Bradford Couch, born at East Lee, Massachusetts, October 1,
+1851. Son of Bradford Milton and Lucy L. Couch. Educated in the public
+schools of Northampton, Massachusetts. Began the study of medicine in
+1871, graduating with honors from the New York Homeopathic Medical
+College, March 4, 1874, being awarded the Allen gold medal for the
+best original investigations in medicine; he was graduated from the
+New York Ophthalmic Hospital, the same year, as an eye and ear
+surgeon. Practiced medicine for thirty-nine years at Nyack, New York.
+Served three years as one of the medical experts on the New York State
+Board of Health.
+
+
+                        THE LINCOLN BOULDER
+
+           O Mighty Boulder, wrought by God's own hand,
+           Throughout all future ages thou shalt stand
+           A monument of honor to the brave
+           Who yielded up their lives, their all, to save
+           Our glorious country, and to make it free
+           From bondsmen's tears and lash of slavery.
+
+           Securely welded to thy rugged breast,
+           Through all the coming ages there shall rest
+           Our Lincoln's tribute to a patriot band,
+           The noblest ever penned by human hand.
+
+           The storms of centuries may lash and beat
+           The granite face and bronze with hail and sleet;
+           But futile all their fury. In a day
+           The loyal sun will melt them all away.
+
+           Equal in death our gallant heroes sleep
+           In Southern trench, home grave, or ocean deep;
+           Equal in glory, fadeless as the light
+           The stars send down upon them through the night.
+           O priceless heritage for us to keep
+           Our heroes' fame immortal while they sleep!
+
+                  .       .       .       .       .
+
+           O God still guide us with thy loving hand,
+           Keep and protect our glorious Fatherland.
+
+
+
+
+             [Illustration: BAS-RELIEF HEAD OF LINCOLN
+
+                       James W. Tuft, Boston]
+
+
+
+
+James Arthur Edgerton, born at Plantsville, Ohio, January 30, 1869.
+Graduated at the Normal University, Lebanon, Ohio, in 1887. One year's
+post-graduate work, Marietta, Ohio, College. Editor county and state
+papers several years; on editorial staff of _Denver News_, 1899-1903;
+American Press Association, New York, 1904; _Watson's Magazine_, 1905.
+Editorial writer _New York American_, 1907; Secretary State Labor
+Bureau of Nebraska, 1895-9; received party vote for clerk United
+States House of Representatives. Author, _Poems_, 1889; _A Better
+Day_, 1890; _Populist Hand-book for 1894_; _Populist Hand-book for
+Nebraska_, 1895; _Voices of the Morning_, 1898; _Songs of the People_,
+1902; _Glimpses of the Real_, 1903; _In the Gardens of God_, 1904.
+
+
+                         WHEN LINCOLN DIED
+
+            When Lincoln died a universal grief
+            Went round the earth. Men loved him in that hour.
+            The North her leader lost, the South her friend;
+            The nation lost its savior, and the slave
+            Lost his deliverer, the most of all.
+            Oh, there was sorrow mid the humble poor
+                      When Lincoln died!
+
+            When Lincoln died a great soul passed from earth,
+            A great white soul, as tender as a child
+            And yet as iron willed as Hercules.
+            In him were strength and gentleness so mixed
+            That each upheld the other. He possessed
+            The patient firmness of a loving heart.
+            In power he out-kinged emperors, and yet
+            His mercy was as boundless as his power.
+            And he was jovial, laughter loving; still
+            His heart was ever torn with suffering.
+            There was divine compassion in the man,
+            A godlike love and pity for his race.
+            The world saw the full measure of that love
+                      When Lincoln died.
+
+            When Lincoln died a type was lost to men.
+            The earth has had her conquerors and kings
+            And many of the common great. Through all
+            She only had one Lincoln. There is none
+            Like him in all the annals of the past.
+            He was a growth of our new soil, a child
+            Of our new time, a symbol of the race
+            That freedom breeds; was of the lowest rank,
+            And yet he scaled the highest height.
+            Mankind one of its few immortals lost
+                      When Lincoln died.
+
+            When Lincoln died it seemed a providence,
+            For he appeared as one sent for a work
+            Whom, when that work was done, God summoned home.
+            He led a splendid fight for liberty,
+            And when the shackles fell the land was saved;
+            He laid his armor by and sought his rest.
+            A glory sent from heaven covered him
+                      When Lincoln died.
+
+
+
+
+                 [Illustration: A STUDY OF LINCOLN
+
+                 From painting by Blendon Campbell]
+
+
+
+
+Amos Russell Wells was born at Glens Falls, New York, December 23,
+1862. His mother removed to Yellow Springs, Ohio, when he was four
+years old, and he received his education at the public school there,
+afterward studying at Antioch College of that town, a college made
+illustrious by its first President, Horace Mann, who died there.
+Graduated in 1883, all by himself, later receiving as Master of Arts,
+also LL.D. He taught for a year in a country district school, then
+entered the faculty of his Alma Mater, where he was a tutor for nine
+years. Was professor of Greek, Geology and Astronomy. He joined the
+Christian Endeavor Society in 1888, and by it was led to become a
+member of the Presbyterian Church at Yellow Springs. When but a boy he
+began to write, and edited numerous journals. Later edited an amateur
+paper, also a town paper. His first paid contribution was a poem
+accepted in 1881 by _The Christian Union_, now _The Outlook_. Wrote
+articles often for _The Golden Rule_, now _The Christian Endeavor
+World_, and for the _Sunday School Times_.
+
+In December, 1891, he went to Boston and became managing editor of
+_The Golden Rule_, a position which he still holds. Since then the
+paper has changed its name and three other papers added--_The Junior
+Christian Endeavor World_, _Junior Work_ and _Union Work_, all edited
+by Mr. Wells. He is also Editorial Secretary of the United Society of
+Christian Endeavor and in editorial charge of all its publications.
+
+Mr. Wells' first book, then entitled _Golden Rule Meditations_, but
+now _The Upward Look_, was published in 1893. Since then every year
+has seen from one to ten additions to his list of productions until
+they now number fifty-eight volumes in all. He is a director of the
+Union Rescue Mission and of the Chinese Mission of Boston. Is a member
+of the American Sunday-School Lesson Committee, an important part of
+his work being his association with Dr. F. N. Peloubet in writing the
+well-known _Select Notes_ on the International Sunday-School Lessons.
+
+
+                         HAD LINCOLN LIVED
+
+                     Had Lincoln lived,
+             How would his hand, so gentle yet so strong,
+             Have closed the gaping wounds of ancient wrong;
+             How would his merry jests, the way he smiled,
+             Our sundered hearts to union have beguiled;
+             How would the South from his just rule have learned
+             That enemies to neighbors may be turned,
+             And how the North, with his sagacious art,
+             Have learned the power of a trusting heart;
+             What follies had been spared us, and what stain,
+             What seeds of bitterness that still remain,
+                     Had Lincoln lived!
+
+                     With Lincoln dead,
+             Ten million men in substitute for one
+             Must do the noble deeds he would have done:
+             Must lift the freedman with discerning care,
+             Nor house him in a castle of the air;
+             Must join the North and South in every good,
+             Fused in co-operating brotherhood;
+             Must banish enmity with his good cheer,
+             And slay with sunshine every rising fear;
+             Like him to dare, and trust, and sacrifice,
+             Ten million lesser Lincolns must arise,
+                     With Lincoln dead.
+
+
+
+
+                [Illustration: THE LINCOLN MEMORIAL
+
+                      Henry Bacon, Architect]
+
+
+The Lincoln Memorial will be the costliest monument to the memory of
+one man ever reared by a republic. The Capitol, at one end of the
+great parkway stretching from Capitol Hill to the Potomac, is a
+monument to the Government; the Lincoln Memorial, at the other end of
+that parkway, is a monument to the savior of that Government; and the
+Washington Monument, standing between, is a monument to its founder.
+The memorial will stand on a broad terrace 45 feet above grade. The
+colonnade will be 188 feet long and 118 feet wide, and will contain 36
+columns, 44 feet high and 7 feet 5 inches in diameter at the base.
+Within the interior of the structure will be three halls. In the
+central hall, which will be 60 feet wide, 70 long, and 60 high, there
+will be a noble statue of Lincoln, while in the two side halls will be
+bronze tablets containing the Great Emancipator's second inaugural
+address and his Gettysburg speech. The George A. Fuller Company of
+Washington are the builders of the Memorial, which will be completed
+in 1917.
+
+
+Samuel Green Wheeler Benjamin, born at Argos, Greece, February 13,
+1837. Was United States Minister to Persia (1883-1885). Assistant
+Librarian in the New York State Library. In 1861-1864 sent two
+companies of cavalry to the war. Served in war hospitals, studied art.
+Art editor of American Department _Magazine of Art_, also of the _New
+York Mail_. Marine painter and illustrator. Among his numerous works
+in prose and verse are _Art in America_, _Contemporary Art in Europe_
+(1877); _Constantinople_ (1860); _Persia and the Persians_ (1866);
+_The Choice of Paris_ (1870), a romance; _Sea Spray_ (1887), a book
+for yachtsmen, etc.
+
+
+                       LET HIS MONUMENT ARISE
+
+                  Let his monument arise,
+                  Pointing upward to the skies,
+                  Founded by a nation's heart,
+                  Grandly shaped in every part
+                  By the master-minds of art,
+                  And consecrated by a nation's tears,
+                  To teach throughout the after-time,
+                  To every tribe, in every clime,
+                  That toil for others is sublime.
+
+
+
+
+INDEX
+
+
+  ALLEN, LYMAN WHITNEY: sketch of, 80;
+    poem, "Lincoln's Church in Washington," by, 81.
+
+  ALLEN, WILLIAM: sketch of, 173;
+    poem, "Springfield's Welcome to Lincoln," by, 173.
+
+  ANTIETAM, LINCOLN AT: photograph, 115.
+
+  "ASSASSINATION OF LINCOLN, ON THE": poem by Henry De Garrs, 200.
+
+
+  B
+
+  BACHE, ANNA: poem, "Lincoln at Springfield, 1861," by, 65, 66.
+
+  BACON, HENRY, architect: Lincoln Memorial at Washington, by, 252.
+
+  BALL, THOMAS, sculptor: "Emancipation Group" in Boston by, 90;
+    in Washington by, 188.
+
+  BATES, EDWARD, Attorney-General: portrait of, in "Lincoln and
+        Cabinet," 206.
+
+  BAXTER, JAMES PHINNEY: sketch of 22;
+    poem, "The Natal Day of Lincoln," by, 22.
+
+  BECKER, CHARLOTTE: sketch of, 61;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 61.
+
+  BENJAMIN, SAMUEL GREEN WHEELER: sketch of, 253;
+    poem, "Let His Monument Arise," by, 253.
+
+  BIBLE, THE: Lincoln's fondness for xvi, xxiii.
+
+  "BIRTH OF LINCOLN, THE": poem by George W. Crofts, 19.
+
+  BISSELL, GEORGE E., sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 231.
+
+  BLAIR, MONTGOMERY, Postmaster-General: portrait of, in "Lincoln
+        and Cabinet," 206.
+
+  BOKER, GEORGE HENRY: sketch of 208;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 209.
+
+  BOOTH, EDWIN: Lincoln discusses his _Hamlet_, xvii-xix.
+
+  BOOTH, J. WILKES: assassin of Lincoln, 138.
+
+  BORGLUM, GUTZON, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 234, 236;
+    marble head of Lincoln by, 240.
+
+  BOSTON: statue of Lincoln in, by Thomas Ball, 90.
+
+  "BOY LINCOLN, THE": picture by Eastman Johnson, 30.
+
+  BRADY, Washington photographer: portraits of Lincoln by,
+        _frontispiece_, 20, 86, 93, 97, 103, 106, 108, 122, 124,
+         128, 134, 170, 210.
+
+
+  "BRONZE MEDAL OF LINCOLN, ON A": poem by Frank Dempster Sherman,
+        239.
+
+  BROWN, STUART: owner of Lincoln portrait, 82.
+
+  BROWN, THERON; sketch of, 94;
+    poem, "The Liberator," by, 94.
+
+  BROWNE, CHARLES F., see WARD, ARTEMUS.
+
+  BRYANT, WILLIAM CULLEN: sketch of, 161;
+    poem, "The Death of Lincoln," by, 161.
+
+  BUFFALO, N. Y.: Lincoln's obsequies at, 168.
+
+  BUGBEE, EMILY J.: "Poetical Tribute to the Memory of Abraham
+        Lincoln," by, 201.
+
+  BURLEIGH, WILLIAM HENRY: sketch of, 53;
+    poem, "Presidential Campaign, 1860," by, 53.
+
+  BURLINGTON, WIS.: statue of Lincoln in, by Ganiere, 228.
+
+  "BUT HERE'S AN OBJECT MORE OF DREAD": poem by Lincoln, viii.
+
+
+  C
+
+  CABIN, LOG, Lincoln's birthplace: picture, 13.
+
+  CABIN OF LINCOLN'S PARENTS: picture, 62;
+    description, 63.
+
+  CAMPBELL, BLENDON, artist: "A Study of Lincoln" by, 249.
+
+  CAPITOL AT WASHINGTON, THE: description of, 72;
+    picture of, 73.
+
+  CARPENTER, FRANK B., painter of "First Reading of the
+        Emancipation Proclamation," xvii, 206;
+    his account of Lincoln as a dramatic critic, xvii.
+
+  CARR, CLARENCE E.: sketch of, 20;
+    poem, "Mendelssohn, Darwin, Lincoln," by, 21.
+
+  CARY, ALICE: sketch of, 130;
+    poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, 131.
+
+  CARY, PHOEBE, sketch of, 210;
+    poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, 211.
+
+  CASSIDY, THOMAS F.: tribute of, to the mother of Lincoln, 25.
+
+  CAWEIN, MADISON: sketch of, 56;
+    poem, "Lincoln, 1809--February 12, 1909," by, 56.
+
+  "CENOTAPH OF LINCOLN, THE": poem by James Mackay, 181.
+
+  CHAPPLE, BENNETT: poem, "The Great Oak," by, 15.
+
+  "CHARACTERIZATION OF LINCOLN, A": poem by Hamilton Schuyler, 87.
+
+  CHASE, SALMON P., Secretary of the Treasury: portrait of, in
+        "Lincoln and Cabinet," 206.
+
+  CHENEY, JOHN VANCE: sketch of, 76;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 77.
+
+  CHICAGO: statue of Lincoln in, by Saint Gaudens, 214.
+
+  "CHILDREN ON THE BORGLUM STATUE": picture, 236.
+
+  CHOATE, ISAAC BASSETT: sketch of, 59;
+    poem, "The Matchless Lincoln," by, 59.
+
+  CITY HALL, NEW YORK, N. Y.: picture and description of, at time
+        of Lincoln obsequies, 162, 166.
+
+  CLAY, HENRY: Lincoln's regard for, vi;
+    his eulogy of, xv.
+
+  CLENDENIN, HENRY WILSON: sketch of, 70;
+    poem, "Lincoln Called to the Presidency," by, 70.
+
+  COOKE, ROSE TERRY: sketch of, 132;
+    poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, 133.
+
+  COOPER UNION SPEECH, by Lincoln; reference to, xii.
+
+  CORNWALLIS, KINAHAN: sketch of, 229;
+    poem, "Homage Due to Lincoln," by, 229.
+
+  COUCH, LOUIS BRADFORD: sketch of, 244;
+    poem, "The Lincoln Boulder," by, 244.
+
+  CRANCH, CHRISTOPHER PEARSE: sketch of, 206;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 207.
+
+  CROFTS, GEORGE W.: sketch of, 19;
+    poem, "The Birth of Lincoln," by, 19.
+
+
+  D
+
+  "DARWIN, MENDELSSOHN, LINCOLN": poem by Clarence E. Carr, 21;
+    portraits of, 20.
+
+  DAVIS, NOAH: sketch of, 17;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 17.
+
+  DEATH OF LINCOLN, 149.
+
+  "DEATH OF LINCOLN": poem by William Cullen Bryant, 161.
+
+  DEATHBED OF LINCOLN: picture of, 144;
+    poem on, 145.
+
+  DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE: Lincoln on, 68.
+
+  "DEDICATION POEM" of Lincoln Monument at Springfield, Ill., by
+        James Judson Lord, 183.
+
+  DICKINSON, CHARLES MONROE: sketch of, 136;
+    poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, 136.
+
+  "DIOGENES AND HIS LANTERN": campaign cartoon of 1860, 55.
+
+  DOUGLAS, STEPHEN A., Senator: Lincoln's opposition to, xvi;
+    attitude of, on the Dred Scott Decision, opposed by Lincoln,
+        42.
+
+  DRED SCOTT DECISION: reference to, 42.
+
+  DUNBAR, PAUL LAWRENCE: sketch of, 128;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 129.
+
+
+  E
+
+  EDGERTON, JAMES ARTHUR: sketch of, 247;
+   poem, "When Lincoln Died," by, 247.
+
+  EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND: Statue of Lincoln in, by Bissell, 231.
+
+  "EMANCIPATION GROUP," statuary designed by Thomas Ball: in
+        Boston, 90;
+    in Washington, 188;
+    poem on, by John Greenleaf Whittier, 91.
+
+  "EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION, FIRST READING OF THE": painting by
+        Frank B. Carpenter, 206.
+
+  "ENGLAND'S SORROW": poem in London _Fun_, 153.
+
+  EUCLID: see GEOMETRY.
+
+  "EYES OF LINCOLN, THE": poem by Walt Mason, 121.
+
+
+  F
+
+  FASSETT, S. M., Chicago photographer: portrait of Lincoln in
+        1858, by, 71.
+
+  "FIRST READING OF THE EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION": painting by
+        Frank B. Carpenter, 206.
+
+  FLANNERY, LOTT, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 199.
+
+  FOLSOM, JOSEPH FULFORD: sketch of, 234;
+    poem, "The Unfinished Work," by, 235.
+
+  FOLTZ, CHARLES G.: sketch of, 98;
+    poem, "On Freedom's Summit," by, 98.
+
+  FORD'S THEATRE: picture of, 138.
+
+  FRENCH, DANIEL CHESTER, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 226.
+
+  FUN, LONDON: poem, "England's Sorrow" in, 153.
+
+  FUNERAL OF LINCOLN, THE, in White House: picture, 154.
+
+  "FUNERAL CAR OF LINCOLN": picture of, 158;
+    poem by Richard Henry Stoddard on, 159.
+
+  "FUNERAL HYMN OF LINCOLN": poem by Phineas Densmore Gurley, 155.
+
+
+  G
+
+  GANIERE, GEORGE E., sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 228.
+
+  GARDNER, Washington photographer: portraits of Lincoln by, 88,
+        95, 112, 118, 130, 132.
+
+  GARRS, HENRY DE: sketch of, 200;
+    poem, "On the Assassination of Lincoln," by, 200.
+
+  GELERT, JOHANNES, sculptor: bust of Lincoln by, iv, v.
+
+  GENTRY, MATTHEW, insane friend of Lincoln: poem by Lincoln on,
+        vii-ix.
+
+  GEOMETRY: favorite study of Lincoln, xii, 63.
+
+  GETTYSBURG, LINCOLN'S SPEECH AT: in prose form, 100;
+    comment by William H. Lambert on, 101;
+    in verse form, xii.
+
+  "GETTYSBURG ODE"; poem by Bayard Taylor, 102.
+
+  GILDER, RICHARD WATSON: sketch of, 45;
+    poem, "On the Life-Mask of Abraham Lincoln," by, 45.
+
+  GILMER, photographer: ambrotype of Lincoln, 1858, by, 40.
+
+  "GLORY, THE, THAT SLUMBERED IN THE GRANITE ROCKS": poem by Ella
+        Wheeler Wilcox, 241.
+
+  GOULD, ELIZABETH PORTER: sketch of, 41;
+    poem, "The Voice of Lincoln," by, 41.
+
+  "GRAVE OF LINCOLN, THE": views of, 178, 180, 182;
+    poem on, by Edna Dean Proctor, 186.
+
+  "GREAT OAK, THE," poem by Bennett Chapple, 14.
+
+  GUITERMAN, ARTHUR: sketch of, 123;
+    poem, "He Leads Us Still," by, 123.
+
+  GURLEY, PHINEAS DENSMORE: sketch of, 155;
+    poem, "The Funeral Hymn of Lincoln," by, 155.
+
+
+  H
+
+  "HAD LINCOLN LIVED": Poem by Amos Russell Wells, 251.
+
+  HAGEDORN, HERMANN: sketch of, 107;
+    poem, "Oh, Patient Eyes!" by, 107.
+
+  HALL, EUGENE J.: poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, 220.
+
+  HALPIN, CHARLES GRAHAM ("Miles O'Reilly"): sketch of, 215;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 216.
+
+  "HAND OF LINCOLN, THE": cast by Leonard W. Volk, 46;
+    poem on, by Edmund Clarence Stedman, 47.
+
+  HANKS, NANCY: see LINCOLN, NANCY HANKS.
+
+  HAY, JOHN, secretary of Lincoln: portrait of, 67.
+
+  "HE LEADS US STILL": poem by Arthur Guiterman, 123.
+
+  HERNDON, WILLIAM H., law partner of Lincoln: presents Lincoln's
+        office chair to O. H. Oldroyd, 36.
+
+  HESLER, Chicago photographer: portrait of Lincoln in 1860, by,
+        58.
+
+  HICKS, painter of Lincoln portrait lithographed for campaign of
+        1860, 49.
+
+  HODGENVILLE, KY.: statue of Lincoln in, by Weinman, 126.
+
+  HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL: sketch of, 170;
+    poem, "Services in Memory of Abraham Lincoln," by, 171;
+    his "Last Leaf," a favorite poem of Lincoln, xi, xxi.
+
+  "HOMAGE DUE TO LINCOLN": poem by Kinahan Cornwallis, 229.
+
+  "HONEST ABE": campaign cartoon of 1860, 55.
+
+  "HONEST ABE OF THE WEST": poem by Edmund Clarence Stedman, 51.
+
+  HOOPER, LUCY HAMILTON: sketch of, 175;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 176.
+
+  "HORATIAN ODE, AN": poem by Richard Henry Stoddard, 29, 159, 193.
+
+  HOSMER, FREDERICK LUCIAN: sketch of, 134;
+     poem, "Lincoln," by, 135.
+
+  "HOUSE WHERE LINCOLN DIED, THE": picture of, 150;
+   poem by Robert Mackay on, 151;
+   Oldroyd collection of Lincoln Memorials at, _Foreword_.
+
+  HOWE, JULIA WARD: sketch of, 14;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 14.
+
+
+  I
+
+  INDEPENDENCE HALL, PHILADELPHIA: speech of Lincoln at, 68;
+    picture of, 69.
+
+  INGMIRE, F. W., photographer: picture of Lincoln Homestead at
+        time of Lincoln's funeral, 172.
+
+  "IN TOKEN OF RESPECT": poem, 152.
+
+
+  J
+
+  JOHNSON, EASTMAN: picture, "The Boy Lincoln," by, 30.
+
+  JOHNSON, WILLIAM, literary friend of Lincoln: Lincoln's letters
+        to, v-ix.
+
+  JOHNSTON, JAMES NICOLL: sketch of, 168;
+    poem, "Requiem," by, 169.
+
+
+  K
+
+  KIMBALL, HARRIET MCEWEN: sketch of, 157;
+    poem, "Rest, Rest, for Him," by, 157.
+
+  KNOX, WILLIAM, Scotch poet: favorite of Lincoln, vi;
+    his poem, "Oh Why Should the Spirit of Mortal Be Proud," ix.
+
+
+  L
+
+  LAMBERT, WILLIAM H.: on Lincoln's Speech at Gettysburg, 101.
+
+  LARCOM, LUCY, sketch of, 164;
+    poem, "Tolling," by, 165.
+
+  "LAST LEAF, THE," by O. W. Holmes: favorite poem of Lincoln, xi,
+        xxi.
+
+  "LEADER OF HIS PEOPLE": poem by William Wilberforce Newton, 32.
+
+  LEIGHTON, ROBERT: poem, "Sic Semper Tyrannis!" by, 139.
+
+  "LET THE PRESIDENT SLEEP": poem by James M. Stewart, 179.
+
+  "LET HIS MONUMENT ARISE": poem by Samuel Green Wheeler Benjamin,
+        253.
+
+  "LIBERATOR, THE": poem by Theron Brown, 94.
+
+  "LIFE-MASK OF LINCOLN, THE": cast by Leonard W. Volk, 44;
+    poem on, by Richard Watson Gilder, 45.
+
+  LINCOLN, ABRAHAM: poems by, v-ix;
+    speeches by, xii-xiv, xv-xvii, xix, xxi-xxiii;
+    lectures by, xix, xx;
+    his favorite poems, vi, ix-xi, xxi;
+    his moral character, xiv-xvii;
+    his literary inspirations, xii, xvi-xix, xxiii, 17;
+    as a dramatic critic, xvii-xix;
+    as a literary artist, xix-xxiii;
+    his taste for humor, xx;
+    birth 13, 14, 15, 17, 19, 21, 22, 74, 109;
+    youth, 14, 17, 29, 31, 32, 46, 47, 142;
+    education, 17, 22, 23, 31, 32, 35;
+    profession, 34, 36, 37, 147, 148;
+    religion, 17, 18, 41, 65, 66, 79, 81, 84, 85, 99, 105, 114,
+        125, 135, 223;
+    statecraft, 14, 18, 23, 29, 33, 37, 38, 42, 47, 48, 57, 59, 70,
+        75, 77, 78, 83, 91, 94, 95, 96, 98, 110, 116, 119, 127,
+        129, 131, 136, 141, 148, 161, 163, 183, 189, 193, 209, 220,
+        223, 229, 232, 241;
+    character, 43, 45, 48, 51, 54, 56, 61, 74, 87, 89, 107, 109,
+        113, 116, 121, 123, 125, 127, 131, 133, 135, 136, 139, 141,
+        148, 174, 176, 189, 200, 201, 209, 211, 216, 220, 223, 227,
+        239, 241;
+    death, 15, 18, 24, 29, 31, 61, 75, 92, 99, 137, 138-207, 211,
+        219, 230, 247, 251.
+
+  "LINCOLN": title of poems by Becker, Charlotte, 61;
+    Boker, George Henry, 209;
+    Cheney, John Vance, 77;
+    Cranch, Christopher Pearse, 207;
+    Dunbar, Paul Lawrence, 129;
+    Davis, Noah, 17;
+    Halpin, Charles Graham, 216;
+    Hooper, Lucy Hamilton, 176;
+    Hosmer, Frederick Lucian, 135;
+    Howe, Julia Ward, 14;
+    Mitchell, S. Weir, 125;
+    Monroe, Harriet, 119;
+    Smith, Wilbur Hazelton, 35;
+    Trowbridge, John Townsend, 227.
+
+  "LINCOLN, ABRAHAM": title of poems by, Cary, Alice, 131;
+    Cary, Phoebe, 211;
+    Cooke, Rose Terry, 133;
+    Dickinson, Charles Monroe, 136;
+    Hall, Eugene J., 200;
+    Sangster, Margaret Elizabeth, 109;
+    Townsend, George Alfred, 127.
+
+  "LINCOLN, ABRAHAM, FOULLY ASSASSINATED": cartoon in London
+        _Punch_, 140;
+    poem by Tom Taylor on, 141.
+
+  LINCOLN, AMBROTYPES OF: 34, 40, 42, 52.
+
+  "LINCOLN AND CABINET": painting by Frank B. Carpenter, 206.
+
+  "LINCOLN AND STANTON": poem by Marion Mills Miller, 148.
+
+  "LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR SENATOR": ambrotype by Gilmer, 1858,
+        40.
+
+  "LINCOLN AT SPRINGFIELD, 1861": poem by Anna Bache, 66.
+
+  "LINCOLN AT THE TIME OF DEBATE WITH DOUGLAS": ambrotype in 1858,
+        42.
+
+  LINCOLN, BAS-RELIEF HEAD OF: by James W. Tuft, 246.
+
+  LINCOLN, BUST OF: by Johannes Gelert, iv.
+
+  "LINCOLN BY THE CABIN FIRE": picture, 16.
+
+  "LINCOLN CALLED TO THE PRESIDENCY": poem by Henry Wilson
+        Clendenin, 70.
+
+  LINCOLN, CARTOONS OF: "Abraham Lincoln Foully Assassinated," 140;
+    "Honest Abe," 55.
+
+  "LINCOLN, 1809--FEBRUARY 12, 1909" poem by Madison Cawein, 56.
+
+  "LINCOLN, 1865": poem by John Nichol, 204.
+
+  LINCOLN, DEATH OF, 149.
+
+  LINCOLN, HAND OF: cast by Leonard W. Volk, 46.
+
+  LINCOLN, HEAD OF: in marble, by Borglum, at Washington, 240.
+
+  "LINCOLN IN HIS OFFICE CHAIR": poem by James Riley, 37.
+
+  LINCOLN, LIFE-MASK OF: by Leonard W. Volk, 44.
+
+  LINCOLN, MEDALLION OF: Bronze Head in Commemoration of Lincoln
+        Centenary, 238.
+
+  "LINCOLN, MENDELSSOHN, DARWIN": poem by Clarence E. Carr, 21;
+    portraits of, 20.
+
+  LINCOLN, MONUMENTS OF: Lincoln Memorial at Washington, by Bacon,
+        Henry, 252;
+    Lincoln Monument in Springfield, Ill., by Mead, Larken G., 182.
+
+  LINCOLN, OFFICE CHAIR OF: picture, 36.
+
+  LINCOLN, PHOTOGRAPHS OF: Brady's, _frontispiece_, 20, 86, 93, 97,
+        103, 106, 108, 122, 124, 128, 134, 170, 210;
+    Fassett's, 71;
+    Gardner's, 88, 95, 112, 118, 130, 132;
+    Gilmer's, 40;
+    Hesler's, 58;
+    by unidentified photographers, 34, 42, 52, 60, 67, 82, 84, 120.
+
+  LINCOLN, PICTURES OF: "Boy Lincoln, The," by Eastman Johnson, 30;
+    "Lincoln, by the Cabin Fire," 16;
+    "Rail Splitter, The," 28.
+
+  "LINCOLN, POETIC SPIRIT OF": introduction by Marion Mills Miller,
+        v.
+
+  LINCOLN, PORTRAIT PAINTINGS OF: "A Study of Lincoln," by
+        Campbell, Blendon, 249;
+    in "Lincoln and Cabinet," by Carpenter, Frank B., 206;
+    by Hicks, 49.
+
+  "LINCOLN, PRESIDENT, TO," poem by Edmund Ollier, 96.
+
+  "LINCOLN'S CHURCH IN WASHINGTON": picture of, 79;
+    poem by Lyman Whitney Allen, 81.
+
+  "LINCOLN, SOLDIER OF CHRIST": poem in _Macmillan's Magazine_, 85.
+
+  LINCOLN, SPEECHES OF: in Independence Hall, Philadelphia, 68;
+    on leaving Springfield, 65.
+
+  LINCOLN, STUDIES OF: by Ball, in Boston, 90, and in Washington,
+        188;
+    by Bissell, in Edinburgh, Scotland, 231;
+    by Borglum in Newark, N. J., 234, 236;
+    by Flannery, in Washington, 199;
+    by French, in Lincoln, Neb., 226;
+    by Ganiere, in Burlington, Wis., 228;
+    by Niehaus, in Muskegon, Mich., 203;
+    by Ream, in Washington, 222;
+    by Rogers, in Philadelphia, 208;
+    by Saint Gaudens, in Chicago, 214;
+    by Weinman, in Hodgenville, Ky., 126;
+    by Volk, 192.
+
+  "LINCOLN THE LABORER": poem by Richard Henry Stoddard, 29.
+
+  "LINCOLN THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE": poem by Edwin Markham, 74.
+
+  "LINCOLN BOULDER, THE": picture of, 243;
+    poem on, by Louis Bradford Couch, 244.
+
+  LINCOLN HOMESTEAD, Springfield, Ill.: picture of, in 1861, 64;
+    in 1865, 172.
+
+  LINCOLN, NANCY HANKS, mother of Lincoln: tomb of, 25;
+    poem on, by Harriet Monroe, 26.
+
+  LINCOLN, NEB.: statue of Lincoln in, by French. 226.
+
+  LINCOLN, SARAH BUSH, stepmother of Lincoln: cabin of, 62;
+    her parting from Lincoln, 63.
+
+  LINCOLN, THOMAS, father of Lincoln: cabin of, 62, 63.
+
+  LINCOLN, THOMAS ("Tad"), son of Lincoln: portrait of, 103.
+
+  LOCKE, DAVID R., see NASBY, PETROLEUM V.
+
+  "LOG CABIN, THE," birthplace of Lincoln: picture of, 13.
+
+  LORD, JAMES JUDSON: sketch of, 183;
+    poem at dedication of Lincoln Monument at Springfield, Ill.,
+        by, 183.
+
+  LOWELL, JAMES RUSSELL: sketch of, 189;
+    poem, "Commemoration Ode," by, 189.
+
+
+  M
+
+  MACKAY, JAMES: sketch of, 181;
+    poem, "The Cenotaph of Lincoln," by, 181.
+
+  MACKAY, ROBERT: sketch of, 151;
+    poem, "The House where Lincoln Died," by, 151.
+
+  MACMILLAN'S MAGAZINE: poem, "Lincoln, Soldier of Christ," in, 85.
+
+  "MAN LINCOLN, THE": poem by Wilbur Dick Nesbit, 113.
+
+  MARKHAM, EDWIN: sketch of, 74;
+    poem, "Lincoln the Man of the People," by, 74.
+
+  "MARTYR PRESIDENT, THE": poem, 219.
+
+  MASON, WALT: sketch of, 121;
+    poem, "The Eyes of Lincoln," by, 121.
+
+  "MASTER, THE": poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson, 116.
+
+  "MATCHLESS LINCOLN, THE": poem by Isaac Bassett Choate, 59.
+
+  MEAD, LARKEN G., architect: Lincoln Monument at Springfield,
+        Ill., by, 182.
+
+  "MENDELSSOHN, DARWIN, LINCOLN": poem by Clarence E. Carr, 21;
+    portraits of, 20.
+
+  MILLER, MARION MILLS: editorial assistance by, in "The Poets'
+        Lincoln," _Acknowledgment_;
+    introduction by, v;
+    sketch of, 146;
+    poem, "Lincoln and Stanton," by, 148.
+
+  MITCHELL, S. WEIR: sketch of, 125;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 125.
+
+  MONROE, HARRIET: sketch of, 26;
+    poems, "Nancy Hanks," 26, and "Lincoln," 119.
+
+  MUSKEGON, MICH.: statue of Lincoln in, by Niehaus, 203.
+
+  "MY CHILDHOOD'S HOME I SEE AGAIN": poem by Lincoln, vi.
+
+
+  N
+
+  "NASBY, PETROLEUM V." (David R. Locke), humorist: Lincoln's
+        fondness for, xx.
+
+  "NATAL DAY OF LINCOLN, THE": poem by James Phinney Baxter, 22.
+
+  NESBIT, WILBUR DICK: sketch of, 113;
+    poem, "The Man Lincoln," by, 113.
+
+  NEWARK, N. J., Statue of Lincoln in, by Borglum, 234, 236.
+
+  NEWTON, WILLIAM WILBERFORCE: sketch of, 32;
+    poem, "Leader of His People," by, 32.
+
+  NEW YORK AVENUE PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, WASHINGTON: picture of, 79.
+
+  NEW YORK CITY: obsequies of Lincoln at, 162, 166.
+
+  NICHOL, JOHN: sketch of, 204;
+    poem, "Lincoln, 1865," by, 204.
+
+  NICOLAY, JOHN G., secretary of Lincoln: his account of Lincoln's
+        lectures, xix;
+    portrait of, 67.
+
+  NIEHAUS, CHARLES, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 202.
+
+  NYACK, N. Y.: Lincoln Boulder at, 243.
+
+
+  O
+
+  OAK RIDGE CEMETERY, SPRINGFIELD, ILL.: views in, 178, 180.
+
+  "O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!" poem by Walt Whitman, 197.
+
+  "ODE" on Lincoln's obsequies: by Henry T. Tuckerman, 163.
+
+  "OH, PATIENT EYES!" poem by Hermann Hagedorn, 107.
+
+  "OH, WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL BE PROUD?" by William Knox,
+        favorite poem of Lincoln, vi, ix.
+
+  OLDROYD, OSBORN H.: editor of "The Poets' Lincoln"; his purpose,
+        _Foreword_;
+    his collection of Lincoln memorials, _Foreword_;
+    owner of Lincoln's office chair, 36.
+
+  OLLIER, EDMUND: poem, "To President Lincoln," by, 96.
+
+  "ONE OF OUR PRESIDENTS": poem by Wendell Phillips Stafford, 237.
+
+  "ON FREEDOM'S SUMMIT": poem by Charles G. Foltz, 98.
+
+  "O'REILLY, MILES," see HALPIN, CHARLES GRAHAM.
+
+
+  P
+
+  "PEACEFUL LIFE, A": poem by James Whitcomb Riley, 31.
+
+  PHELPS, ELIZABETH STUART: sketch of, 43;
+    poem, "The Thoughts of Lincoln," by, 43.
+
+  PHILADELPHIA: speech of Lincoln at, 68;
+    statue of Lincoln in, by Rogers, 208;
+    tablet to Lincoln in, 218.
+
+  PIATT, JOHN JAMES: sketch of, 83;
+    poem, "Sonnet in 1862," by, 83.
+
+  "POETICAL TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN": by Emily J.
+        Bugbee, 201.
+
+  "POETIC SPIRIT OF LINCOLN": introduction by Marion Mills Miller,
+        v.
+
+  POLK, JAMES K., President: Lincoln's arraignment of, xvi.
+
+  "PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN, 1860": poem by William Henry Burleigh, 53.
+
+  PROCTOR, EDNA DEAN: sketch of, 186;
+    poem, "The Grave of Lincoln," by, 186.
+
+  PUNCH, LONDON: poem on "Abraham Lincoln Foully Assassinated," in,
+        140.
+
+
+  R
+
+  "RAIL SPLITTER, THE": picture, 28.
+
+  REAM VINNIE, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 222.
+
+  REPEAL OF MISSOURI COMPROMISE: Lincoln's speech on, xv-xvii.
+
+  REPUBLICAN CONVENTION OF 1860: reference to, 50.
+
+  "REQUIEM": poem by James Nicoll Johnston, 169.
+
+  "REQUIEM OF LINCOLN": poem by Richard Storrs Willis, 167.
+
+  "REST, REST FOR HIM": poem by Harriet McEwen Kimball, 157.
+
+  RILEY, JAMES: sketch of, 37;
+    poem, "Lincoln in His Office Chair," by, 37.
+
+  RILEY, JAMES WHITCOMB: sketch of, 31;
+    poem, "A Peaceful Life," by, 31.
+
+  ROBINSON, EDWIN ARLINGTON: sketch of, 116;
+    poem, "The Master," by, 116.
+
+  ROGERS, RANDOLPH, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 208.
+
+  ROTUNDA, CITY HALL, NEW YORK: picture of, at time of Lincoln's
+        obsequies, 166.
+
+
+  S
+
+  SAINT GAUDENS, AUGUSTUS, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 214,
+        215.
+
+  ST. JAMES HALL, BUFFALO, N. Y.: picture of, at time of Lincoln
+        obsequies, 168.
+
+  SANGSTER, MARGARET ELIZABETH: sketch of, 109;
+    poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, 109.
+
+  SCHUYLER, HAMILTON: sketch of, 87;
+    poem, "A Characterization of Lincoln," by, 87.
+
+  "SCOTLAND STATUE, THE": poem by David K. Watson, 232.
+
+  "SECOND INAUGURAL, LINCOLN'S": poem by Benjamin Franklin Taylor,
+        104.
+
+  "SERVICES IN MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN": poem by Oliver Wendell
+        Holmes, 171.
+
+  SEWARD, WILLIAM H., Secretary of State: suggests closing passage
+        of Lincoln's First Inaugural, xxii-xxiii;
+    portrait in "Lincoln and Cabinet," 206.
+
+  SHAKESPEARE: Lincoln's fondness for, xvi-xix.
+
+  SHERMAN, FRANK DEMPSTER: sketch of, 239;
+    poem, "On a Bronze Medal of Lincoln," by, 239.
+
+  "SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS!", poem by Robert Leighton, 139.
+
+  SLAVERY: Lincoln on, xii, xv-xvii;
+    the Dred Scott Decision, 42;
+    Lincoln the emancipator, 90, 91, 94, 96, 98, 152, 161, 184,
+        187, 221, 229, 232, 241.
+
+  SMITH, SAMUEL FRANCIS: sketch of, 222;
+    poem, "The Tomb of Lincoln," by, 223.
+
+  SMITH, WILBUR HAZELTON: sketch of, 35;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 35.
+
+  "SONNET in 1862": poem by John James Piatt, 83.
+
+  SPEED, LUCY G.: autographed portrait of himself given by Lincoln to, 84.
+
+  SPRINGFIELD, ILL.: homestead of Lincoln at, 64, 172;
+    Lincoln's funeral at, 172-181;
+    state capitol at, 175;
+    public vault in Oak Ridge cemetery at, 178, 180;
+    monument to Lincoln at, 182.
+
+  "SPRINGFIELD'S WELCOME TO LINCOLN": poem by William Allen, 173.
+
+  STAFFORD, WENDELL PHILLIPS: sketch of, 236;
+    poem, "One of Our Presidents," by, 237;
+    reference to, 80.
+
+  STANTON, EDWIN M.: tribute to Lincoln dead, 144, 147;
+    portrait, 146;
+    poem on, 148;
+    portrait of, in "Lincoln and Cabinet," 206.
+
+  STEDMAN, EDMUND CLARENCE: sketch of, 47;
+    poem, "The Hand of Lincoln," by, 47;
+    poem, "Honest Abe of the West," by, 51.
+
+  STEVENS, HIRAM F.: tribute to Lincoln by, 219.
+
+  STEWART, JAMES M.: poem, "Let the President Sleep," by, 179.
+
+  STICKLE, THOMPSON: designer of monument of Nancy Hanks Lincoln,
+        25.
+
+  STODDARD, RICHARD HENRY: sketch of, 193;
+    passages from his "Horatian Ode," 29, 159, 193.
+
+  "STUDY OF LINCOLN, A": painting by Blendon Campbell, 249.
+
+
+  T
+
+  TAYLOR, BAYARD: sketch of 102;
+    poem, "Geyttsburg Ode," by, 102.
+
+  TAYLOR, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN: sketch of, 104;
+    poem, "Lincoln's Second Inaugural," by, 104.
+
+  TAYLOR, TOM: poem, "Abraham Lincoln, Foully Assassinated," by,
+        141.
+
+  "THOUGHTS OF LINCOLN, THE": poem by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, 43.
+
+  TIEFENTHALER, JOSEPHINE OLDROYD, child guide in the "House where
+        Lincoln Died": portrait, 150;
+    reference to, 151, 152.
+
+  "TOMB OF LINCOLN, THE": poem by Samuel Francis Smith, 223.
+
+  TOWNSEND, GEORGE ALFRED: sketch of, 126;
+    poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, 127.
+
+  TROWBRIDGE, JOHN TOWNSEND: sketch of, 227;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 227.
+
+  TUCKERMAN, HENRY T.: sketch of, 163;
+    "Ode" on Lincoln's obsequies, by, 163.
+
+  TUFT, JAMES W., sculptor: bas-relief Head of Lincoln by, 246.
+
+
+  U
+
+  "UNFINISHED WORK, THE": Poem by Joseph Fulford Folsom, 235.
+
+  UNION, THE: Lincoln on, 100, 102.
+
+  USHER, J. P., Secretary of the Interior: portrait of, in "Lincoln
+        and Cabinet," 206.
+
+
+  V
+
+  "VOICE OF LINCOLN, THE," Poem by Elizabeth Porter Gould, 41.
+
+  VOLK, LEONARD W., sculptor: Life-Mask of Lincoln by, 44;
+    cast of Hand of Lincoln by, 46;
+    statue of Lincoln by, 192.
+
+
+  W
+
+  WARD, ARTEMUS (Charles F. Browne) humorist: Lincoln's fondness
+        for, xx.
+
+  WASHINGTON, D. C.: statues of Lincoln in, by Ball, 188;
+    Flannery, 199;
+    Ream, 222;
+    marble head of Lincoln by Borglum, in, 240;
+    Lincoln Memorial by Bacon in, 252;
+    picture of Capitol, 73;
+    of White House, 76;
+    funeral of Lincoln in, 154.
+
+  WASHINGTON, GEORGE: Lincoln's poetic tribute to, xix.
+
+  WATSON, DAVID K.: sketch of, 232;
+    poem, "The Scotland Statue," by, 232.
+
+  WEBSTER, DANIEL: originator of closing sentence of Lincoln's
+        Gettysburg speech, xxi, xxii.
+
+  WEINMANN, ADOLPH A., sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 126.
+
+  WELLES, GIDEON, Secretary of the Navy: portrait of, in "Lincoln
+        and Cabinet," 206.
+
+  WELLS, AMOS RUSSELL: sketch of, 250;
+    poem, "Had Lincoln Lived," by, 251.
+
+  "WHEN LINCOLN DIED": poem by James Arthur Edgerton, 247.
+
+  "WHERE LINCOLN WORSHIPPED": picture of N. Y. Ave. Presbyterian
+        Church, Washington, 79.
+
+  WHITE HOUSE AT WASHINGTON: picture and description of, 76;
+    funeral of Lincoln in, 154.
+
+  WHITMAN, WALT: autographed portrait of, 196;
+    sketch of, 197;
+    poem, "O Captain! My Captain!" by, 197.
+
+  WHITNEY, HENRY C.: author of "Life of Lincoln," v;
+    on Lincoln's poetic sensibility, xi, xxi;
+    on his habit of reading, 16;
+    on Lincoln as a lawyer, 34.
+
+  WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAF: sketch of, 91;
+    poem, "The Emancipation Group," by, 91;
+    reference to, v.
+
+  "WIGWAM, THE," Republican convention hall, Chicago, 1860:
+        picture of, 50.
+
+  WILCOX, ELLA WHEELER: sketch of, 241;
+    poem, "The Glory that Slumbered in the Granite Rock," by, 241.
+
+  WILLIS, RICHARD STORRS: sketch of, 167;
+    poem, "Requiem of Lincoln," by, 167.
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
+
+
+Every effort has been made to faithfully reproduce the original book
+in this etext. The inconsistent, alternate and archaic spelling and
+usage that one would expect in a collection of poets and authors from
+1915 and earlier have been preserved. Errors in the Index, obvious
+and simple enough to be assumed typesetter's errors, have been
+corrected. Other problems and corrections are listed below.
+
+    Page:     1
+    Text:     extends his grateful acknowledgment
+    Change:   acknowledgement changed to acknowledgment (to match
+              spelling of section title)
+
+    Page:     6
+    Text:     Abraham Lincoln Foully Assassinated, by Tom Taylor
+    Change:   removed comma after Taylor
+
+    Page:     11
+    Text:     The Funeral of Lincoln, in East Room of White House
+    Change:   removed comma after White House
+
+    Page:     xvi
+    Text:     Yours truly,
+    Change:   Comma added
+
+    Page:     xvii
+    Text:     It matters not to me whether Shakspeare be well or
+                      ill acted
+    Change:   Shakespeare changed to Shakspeare (alternate spelling
+                      used by Carpenter)
+
+    Page:     xx
+    Text:     performed this function in a still more
+    Change:   added the word "in"
+
+    Page:     22
+    Text:     Like all great souls with vision unobscured
+    Change:   version changed to vision
+
+    Page:     116
+    Text:     May be forgotten by and by
+    Change:   fogotten changed to forgotten
+
+    Page:     117
+    Text:     Shrewd, hallowed, harassed
+    Change:   harrassed changed to harassed
+
+    Page:     172
+    Text:     (5) Hon. W. H. Wallace, Idaho
+    Change:   Walace change to Wallace
+
+    Page:     172
+    Text:     (3) Hon. Lyman Trumbull, Illinois
+    Change:   Hon changed to Hon.
+
+    Page:     189
+    Text:     And hang my wreath on his world-honored urn
+    Change:   wealth changed to wreath
+
+    Page:     216
+    Text:     He filled the Nation's eyes and heart
+    Change:   We changed to He
+
+    Page:     216
+    Text:     Pathetic, kindly, droll or stern
+    Change:   added comma after Pathetic
+
+    Page:     223
+    Text:     Here, Captain! dear Father!
+    Change:   Hear changed to Here
+
+    Page:     243
+    Text:     funds to remove it from
+    Change:   extra "to" removed
+
+    Page:     252
+    Text:     The George A. Fuller Company of Washington
+    Change:   removed comma after Company
+
+    Harper's Bazar (page 109) did not change the spelling to Bazaar
+    until about 1929.
+
+    No poet is mentioned for "The Deathbed" on page 145. However,
+    this poem seems to be "Now He Belongs to the Ages" by William L.
+    Stidger, from The Lincoln Book of Poems, published by R. G.
+    Badger, copyright 1911, page 30. (available on archive.org)
+
+    Pages v, vi and vii refer to Lincoln's correspondent as both
+    Johnson and Johnston. Left as printed.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poets' Lincoln, by Various
+
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+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poets' Lincoln, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Poets' Lincoln
+       Tributes in Verse to the Martyred President
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Osborn H. Oldroyd
+
+Release Date: November 7, 2009 [EBook #30420]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POETS' LINCOLN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by K Nordquist and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="main trns">
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="top" id="top"></a></div>
+
+<p class="center">Click on any image to enlarge.</p>
+
+<table class="transnotes" summary="Navigation Links">
+<tr><td class="fh2 tdleft"><a href="#CONTENTS"><b>Table of Contents</b></a><br />
+<a href="#ILLUSTRATIONS"><b>List of Illustrations</b></a><br />
+<a href="#INDEX"><b>Index</b></a><br />
+<a href="#TRANS"><b>Transcriber's Notes</b></a></td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p>
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i000" id="i000"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 290px;">
+   <a href="images/i000h.jpg">
+      <img src="images/i000.jpg" width="290" height="400" alt="PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1864, color tinted" />
+   </a>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p>
+<div class="tpage">
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+    <div class="figcenter">
+        <img src="images/the.gif" width="80" height="30" alt="The" />
+    </div>
+
+    <h1 style="margin-top: 0; font-size: 250%;">
+        Poets&rsquo; Lincoln
+    </h1>
+
+    <p>
+       <span class="fh3 hspr">TRIBUTES IN VERSE TO THE<br />
+       MARTYRED PRESIDENT<br /></span>
+       <br />
+       <br />
+       <i>Selected by</i><br />
+       <br />
+       <span class="fh2">OSBORN H. OLDROYD</span><br />
+       <br />
+       AUTHOR OF "THE ASSASSINATION OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN"<br />
+       AND EDITOR OF THE "WORDS OF LINCOLN"<br />
+       <br /><br /><br />
+       <i>With many portraits of Lincoln,<br />
+       illustrations of events<br />
+       in his life, etc.</i><br />
+       <br />
+       <br />
+    </p>
+
+    <div class="figcenter" style="width: 79px;">
+        <img src="images/i000a.png" width="79" height="52" alt="" />
+    </div>
+
+
+    <p>
+       <br />
+       <br />
+       PUBLISHED BY THE EDITOR AT<br />
+       "THE HOUSE WHERE LINCOLN DIED"<br />
+       <br />WASHINGTON, D.&nbsp;C.<br />
+       1915<br />
+    </p>
+
+    <hr class="thirty" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p>
+    <p>
+       Copyright 1915,<br />
+       by <span class="smcap">Osborn H. Oldroyd</span><br />
+    </p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class="main">
+
+<hr class="thirty" />
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="ACKNOWLEDGMENT" id="ACKNOWLEDGMENT">ACKNOWLEDGMENT</a></h3>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> Editor is most grateful to the various authors who
+have willingly given their consent to the use of their
+respective poems in the compilation of this volume. It
+has been a somewhat difficult problem, not only to select the
+more appropriate productions, but also to find the names of their
+authors, for in his Lincoln collection there are many hundreds
+of poems which have appeared from time to time in magazines,
+newspapers and other productions, some of which are accompanied
+by more than one name as author of the same poem. In
+a number of instances it has been difficult to ascertain the name
+of the actual owner of the copyright, the poems having been
+printed in so many forms without the copyright mark attached.</p>
+
+<p>The Editor in particular <a name="trans1" id="trans1">extends his grateful acknowledgment</a>
+to the Houghton Mifflin Company for permission to reprint
+the "Emancipation Group" by John G. Whittier; the "Life
+Mask" by Richard Watson Gilder; "The Hand of Lincoln" by
+Clarence Stedman; "Commemoration Ode" by James Russell
+Lowell, and the "Gettysburg Address" by Bayard Taylor; to
+Charles Scribner's Sons for two "Lincoln" poems by Richard
+Henry Stoddard; and to the J.&nbsp;B. Lippincott Company for the
+poem "Lincoln" by George Henry Boker.</p>
+
+<p>The Editor is also grateful to Dr. Marion Mills Miller for his
+contribution of the introduction and a poem specially written
+for the collection, and also for assistance in the editorial work.</p>
+
+<hr class="thirty" />
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p>
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="FOREWORD" id="FOREWORD">FOREWORD</a></h3>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">No</span> great man has ever been spoken of with such tender
+expressions of high regard as has been Abraham Lincoln.
+Especially is this true of the tributes of esteem made
+by the poets to his memory. It is therefore desirable that these
+should be preserved for future generations, and at this time, the
+fiftieth anniversary of his untimely death, it is peculiarly proper
+that they should be presented to the public.</p>
+
+<p>Although they are chiefly the productions of American authors,
+quite a number are from the pens of appreciative citizens of other
+countries. From the thousand of meritorious poems which
+have been written about Lincoln, the compiler, after serious
+consideration, has selected those within as appearing to be gems;
+although there were others which he would have been glad to
+include if space permitted.</p>
+
+<p>The poems and illustrations are arranged largely in the chronological
+order of their application to the events in the life of
+Lincoln. The intense sympathy and warm appreciation portrayed
+therein for our Martyred President, as well as their
+artistic merit assure the poems a sacred place in the heart of
+every patriotic American.</p>
+
+<p>The large number of selected portraits and illustrations of
+events connected with his life, service, death and burial, with
+brief sketches of authors of the following poems, also forms a
+compilation of rich material for all readers of Lincoln literature.</p>
+
+<p>The object in publishing this compilation is to assist in preserving
+the collection of memorials now contained in the house
+in which Lincoln died, 516 Tenth Street, Washington, D.&nbsp;C.</p>
+
+<p class="vbsm">The volume will be sent postpaid by the Editor at the above
+address, upon receipt of its price, $1.00.</p>
+
+<p class="right1 vsm vbsm"><span class="smcap">Osborn H. Oldroyd.</span></p>
+
+<p class="vsm vb0" style="margin-left: 1em;">Washington, D.&nbsp;C., September twelve,</p>
+<p class="v0" style="margin-left: 2em;">Nineteen hundred and fifteen.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="sixty"  />
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p>
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</a></h2>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<table class="toc" summary="Table of Contents">
+
+<tr><th></th><th><span class="fsmcap">PAGE</span></th></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#INTRODUCTION">Introduction</a></span>&mdash;The Poetic Spirit of Lincoln, by Marion Mills Miller</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_v">v</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap"><a href="#My_childhoods_home_I_see_again">My Childhood's Home I See Again,</a></span> by Abraham Lincoln</span></p> </td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_vi">vi</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap"><a href="#But_heres_an_object_more_of_dread">But Here's an Object More of Dread,</a></span> by Abraham Lincoln</span></p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_viii">viii</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap"><a href="#WHY_SHOULD_THE_SPIRIT_OF_MORTAL_BE_PROUD">Oh, Why Should the Spirit of Mortal Be Proud?</a></span> By William Knox</span></p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_ix">ix</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap"><a href="#SPEECH_AT_GETTYSBURG">Speech at Gettysburg</a></span> (in verse form), by Abraham Lincoln</span></p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_xiii">xiii</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap"><a href="#O_my_offence_is_rank">Soliloquy of King Claudius,</a></span> by William Shakespeare</span></p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_xvii">xvii</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#LINCOLN_Howe">Lincoln,</a></span> by Julia Ward Howe</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_GREAT_OAK">The Great Oak,</a></span> by Bennett Chapple</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#LINCOLN_Davis">Lincoln,</a></span> by Noah Davis</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_BIRTH_OF_LINCOLN">The Birth of Lincoln,</a></span> by George W. Crofts</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#MENDELSSOHN">Mendelssohn, Darwin, Lincoln,</a></span> by Clarence E. Carr</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_NATAL_DAY_OF_LINCOLN">The Natal Day of Lincoln,</a></span> by James Phinney Baxter</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#NANCY_HANKS">Nancy Hanks,</a></span> by Harriet Monroe</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#LINCOLN_THE_LABORER">Lincoln the Laborer,</a></span> by Richard Henry Stoddard</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#A_PEACEFUL_LIFE">A Peaceful Life,</a></span> by James Whitcomb Riley</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#LEADER_OF_HIS_PEOPLE">Leader of His People,</a></span> by William Wilberforce Newton</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem35">Lincoln,</a></span> by Wilbur Hazelton Smith</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem37">Lincoln in His Office Chair,</a></span> by James Riley</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem41">The Voice of Lincoln,</a></span> by Elizabeth Porter Gould</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem43">The Thoughts of Lincoln,</a></span> by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem45">On the Life-mask of Abraham Lincoln,</a></span> by Richard Watson Gilder</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem47">The Hand of Lincoln,</a></span> by Edmund Clarence Stedman</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem51">Honest Abe of the West,</a></span> by Edmund Clarence Stedman</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem53">Presidential Campaign, 1860,</a></span> by William Henry Burleigh</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem56">Lincoln, 1809&mdash;February 12, 1909,</a></span> by Madison Cawein</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem59">The Matchless Lincoln,</a></span> by Isaac Bassett Choate</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem61">Lincoln,</a></span> by Charlotte Becker</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem66">Lincoln at Springfield,</a></span> 1861, by Anna Bache</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem70">Lincoln Called To the Presidency,</a></span> by Henry Wilson Clendenin</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem74">Lincoln the Man of the People,</a></span> by Edwin Markham</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem77">Lincoln,</a></span> by John Vance Cheney</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem81">Lincoln's Church in Washington,</a></span> by Lyman Whitney Allen</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem83">Sonnet in 1862,</a></span> by John James Piatt</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem85">Lincoln, Soldier of Christ,</a></span> in Macmillan's Magazine</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem87">A Characterization of Lincoln,</a></span> by Hamilton Schuyler</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem91">The Emancipation Group,</a></span> by John Greenleaf Whittier</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem94">The Liberator,</a></span> by Theron Brown</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem96">To President Lincoln,</a></span> by Edmund Ollier</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem98">On Freedom's Summit,</a></span> by Charles G. Foltz</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_98">98</a><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem100">Address Delivered at the Dedication of the Cemetery at Gettysburg,</a></span> by Abraham Lincoln</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem102">Gettysburg Ode,</a></span> by Bayard Taylor</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem104">Lincoln's Second Inaugural,</a></span> by Benjamin Franklin Taylor</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem107">Oh, Patient Eyes!</a></span> by Herman Hagedorn</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem109">Abraham Lincoln,</a></span> by Margaret Elizabeth Sangster</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem113">The Man Lincoln,</a></span> by Wilbur Dick Nesbit</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem116">The Master,</a></span> by Edwin Arlington Robinson</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem119">Lincoln,</a></span> by Harriet Monroe</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem121">The Eyes of Lincoln,</a></span> by Walt Mason</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem123">He Leads Us Still,</a></span> by Arthur Guiterman</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem125">Lincoln,</a></span> by S. Weir Mitchell</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem127">Abraham Lincoln,</a></span> by George Alfred Townsend</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem129">Lincoln,</a></span> by Paul Lawrence Dunbar</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem131">Abraham Lincoln,</a></span> by Alice Cary</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem132">Abraham Lincoln,</a></span> by Rose Terry Cooke</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem135">Lincoln,</a></span> by Frederick Lucian Hosmer</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem136">Abraham Lincoln,</a></span> by Charles Monroe Dickinson</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem139">Sic Semper Tyrannis!</a></span> by Robert Leighton</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem141">Abraham Lincoln Foully Assassinated,</a></span> <a name="trans6" id="trans6">by Tom Taylor</a></p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem145">The Deathbed</a></span></p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem146">Lincoln and Stanton,</a></span> by Marion Mills Miller</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem151">The House Where Lincoln Died,</a></span> by Robert Mackay</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem152">In Token of Respect,</a></span> Translation of Latin Verses</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem153">England's Sorrow,</a></span> from <i>London Fun</i></p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem155">The Funeral Hymn of Lincoln,</a></span> by Phineas Densmore Gurley</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem157">Rest, Rest for Him,</a></span> by Harriet McEwen Kimball</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem159">The Funeral Car of Lincoln,</a></span> by Richard Henry Stoddard</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem161">The Death of Lincoln,</a></span> by William Cullen Bryant</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem163">Ode,</a></span> by Henry T. Tuckerman</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem164">Tolling,</a></span> by Lucy Larcom</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem167">Requiem of Lincoln,</a></span> by Richard Storrs Willis</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem168">Requiem,</a></span> by James Nicoll Johnston</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem170">Services in Memory of Abraham Lincoln,</a></span> by Oliver Wendell Holmes</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem173">Springfield's Welcome To Lincoln,</a></span> by William Allen</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem175">Lincoln,</a></span> by Lucy Hamilton Hooper</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem179">Let the President Sleep,</a></span> by James M. Stewart</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem181">The Cenotaph of Lincoln,</a></span> by James Mackay</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem183">Dedication Poem,</a></span> by James Judson Lord</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem186">The Grave of Lincoln,</a></span> by Edna Dean Proctor</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem189">Commemoration Ode,</a></span> by James Russell Lowell</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem193">An Horatian Ode,</a></span> by Richard Henry Stoddard</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#O_CAPTAIN">O Captain! My Captain!</a></span> by Walt Whitman</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem200">On the Assassination of Lincoln,</a></span> by Henry De Garrs</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem201">Poetical Tribute To the Memory of Abraham Lincoln,</a></span> by Emily J. Bugbee</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem204">Lincoln, 1865,</a></span> by John Nichol</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem206">Lincoln,</a></span> by Christopher Pearse Cranch</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem208">Lincoln,</a></span> by George Henry Boker</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_208">208</a><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem210">Abraham Lincoln,</a></span> by Phoebe Cary</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_210">210</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem215">Lincoln,</a></span> by Charles Graham Halpin ("Miles O'Reilly")</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem219">The Martyr President</a></span></p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem220">Abraham Lincoln,</a></span> by Eugene J. Hall</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem222">The Tomb of Lincoln,</a></span> by Samuel Francis Smith</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem227">Lincoln,</a></span> by John Townsend Trowbridge</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem229">Homage Due to Lincoln,</a></span> by Kinahan Cornwallis</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem231">The Scotland Statue,</a></span> by David K. Watson</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem234">The Unfinished Work,</a></span> by Joseph Fulford Folsom</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem236">One of Our Presidents,</a></span> by Wendell Philips Stafford</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem239">On a Bronze Medal of Lincoln,</a></span> by Frank Dempster Sherman</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem241">The Glory that Slumbered in the Granite Rock,</a></span> by Ella Wheeler Wilcox</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem243">The Lincoln Boulder,</a></span> by Louis Bradford Couch</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem247">When Lincoln Died,</a></span> by James Arthur Edgerton</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem250">Had Lincoln Lived,</a></span> by Amos Russell Wells</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_250">250</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#poem253">Let His Monument Rise,</a></span> by Samuel Green Wheeler Benjamin</p></td>
+    <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td></tr>
+
+</table>
+
+
+
+<hr class="sixty"  />
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p>
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="ILLUSTRATIONS" id="ILLUSTRATIONS">ILLUSTRATIONS</a></h2>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<table class="toc" summary="Table of Illustrations">
+
+   <tr><th></th><th><span class="fsmcap">PAGE</span></th></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i000">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph by Brady, 1864</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><i><a href="#i000">Frontispiece</a></i></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i000n">Lincoln,</a></span> from a Bust by Johannes Gelert</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_iv">iv</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i013">The Log Cabin,</a></span> Birthplace of Lincoln</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i016">Lincoln by the Cabin Fire</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i020">Mendelssohn, Darwin, Lincoln</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i025">Monument To the Mother of Lincoln</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i028">The Rail Splitter</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i030">The Boy Lincoln,</a></span> by Eastman Johnson</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i034">Lincoln the Lawyer,</a></span> from an Ambrotype, 1856</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i036">Lincoln's Office Chair</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i040">Lincoln as a Candidate for United States Senator,</a></span> from an Ambrotype by Gilmer, 1858</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i042">Lincoln at the Time of Debate with Douglas,</a></span> from an Ambrotype, 1858</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i044">The Lincoln Life-Mask,</a></span> by Leonard W. Volk</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i046">The Hand of Lincoln,</a></span> a Cast by Leonard W. Volk</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i049">Hon. Abraham Lincoln, Republican Candidate for the Presidency,</a></span> 1860, painted by Hicks</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i050">The "Wigwam,"</a></span> Convention Hall in Chicago, 1860</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i052">Lincoln as Candidate for President,</a></span> from an Ambrotype, 1860</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p>"<span class="smcap"><a href="#i055">Honest Abe,</a></span>" Campaign Cartoon of 1860</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i058">Lincoln as Candidate for President,</a></span> Photograph by Hesler, Chicago, 1860</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i060">Lincoln as Candidate for President,</a></span> Photograph at Springfield, Ill., 1860</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i062">Cabin of Lincoln's Parents,</a></span> on Goose-Nest Prairie, Ill.</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i064">Lincoln Homestead,</a></span> Springfield, Ill., 1861</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i067">President Lincoln and His Secretaries, John G. Nicolay and John Hay,</a></span> Photograph at Springfield, Ill., 1861</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i069">Independence Hall, Philadelphia</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i071">Lincoln in 1858,</a></span> Photograph by S.&nbsp;M. Fassett, Chicago,</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i073">The Capitol,</a></span> at Second Inauguration of Lincoln</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i076">The White House</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i079">Where Lincoln Worshipped,</a></span> New York Avenue Presbyterian Church, Washington, D.&nbsp;C.</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i082">Lincoln in 1858,</a></span> Photograph Owned by Stuart Brown, Springfield, Ill.</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i084">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph Autographed for Miss Speed</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i086">Lincoln in February,</a></span> 1860, Photograph by Brady</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i088">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph by Gardner</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i090">Emancipation Group,</a></span> in Park Square, Boston</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i093">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph by Brady, 1863</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i095">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph by Gardner, 1863</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i097">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph by Brady</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i100">Lincoln at Gettysburg</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i103">President Lincoln and His Son Thomas ("Tad")</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i106">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph by Brady</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_106">106</a><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i108">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph by Brady</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i112">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph by Gardner, 1864</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i115">President Lincoln at Antietam</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i118">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph by Gardner, 1864</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i120">President-Elect Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph at Springfield, Ill., 1861</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i122">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph by Brady, 1862</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i124">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph by Brady, 1864</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i126">Statue of Lincoln</a></span> in Hodgenville, Ky.; Adolph A. Weinman, sculptor</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i128">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph by Brady, 1864</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i130">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph by Gardner, 1865</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i132">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph by Gardner, 1865</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i134">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph by Brady, 1865</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i138">Ford's Theatre, Washington, D.&nbsp;C.</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i140">Abraham Lincoln, Foully Assassinated,</a></span> Cartoon in London <i>Punch</i></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i144">Deathbed of Lincoln</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i146">Abraham Lincoln and Edwin M. Stanton</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i149">Death of Lincoln</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i150">House in Which Lincoln Died</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i150">Josephine Oldroyd Tiefenthaler</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i154">The Funeral of Lincoln,</a></span> <a name="trans11" id="trans11">in East Room of White House</a></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i158">The Funeral Car</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i162">City Hall, New York, N.&nbsp;Y.</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i166">Rotunda, City Hall</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_166">166</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i168">St. James Hall, Buffalo, N.&nbsp;Y.</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i170">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph by Brady, 1863</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i172">Lincoln Homestead,</a></span> May 4, 1865</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i175">State Capitol, Illinois,</a></span> 1865</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i178">Public Vault, Oak Ridge Cemetery, Springfield, Ill.</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i180">Facade of Public Vault</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i182">Lincoln Monument,</a></span> in Springfield, Ill., Larken G. Mead, Architect</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i188">Statue of Lincoln,</a></span> Lincoln Park, Washington, D.&nbsp;C., Thomas Ball, sculptor</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i192">Statue of Lincoln,</a></span> by Leonard W. Volk</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p>"<span class="smcap"><a href="#i196">The Good Gray Poet</a></span>" (Walt Whitman)</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i199">Statue of Lincoln,</a></span> in Washington, D.&nbsp;C.; Lott Flannery, sculptor</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i203">Statue of Lincoln,</a></span> in Muskegon, Mich.; Charles Niehaus, sculptor</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i206">Lincoln and Cabinet</a></span> ("First Reading of Emancipation Proclamation"), Painted by Frank B. Carpenter</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i208">Statue of Lincoln,</a></span> in Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, Randolph Rogers, sculptor</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i210">President Lincoln,</a></span> Photograph by Brady, 1864</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_210">210</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i214">Statue of Lincoln,</a></span> in Lincoln Park, Chicago; Augustus Saint Gaudens, sculptor</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_214">214</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i218">Tablet at Philadelphia</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i222">Statue of Lincoln,</a></span> in Rotunda of Capitol; Vinnie Ream, sculptor</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i226">Statue of Lincoln,</a></span> in Lincoln, Neb.; Daniel Chester French, sculptor</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_226">226</a><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i228">Statue of Lincoln,</a></span> in Burlington, Wis.; George E. Ganiere, sculptor</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i231">Statue of Lincoln,</a></span> in Edinburgh, Scotland; George E. Bissell, sculptor</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i234">Statue of Lincoln,</a></span> in Newark, N.&nbsp;J.; Gutzon Borglum, sculptor</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i236">Children on the Borglum Statue</a></span></p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i238">Head of Lincoln,</a></span> Bronze Medallion in Commemoration of Lincoln Centenary, Struck for the Grand Army of the Republic</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_238">238</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i240">Marble Head of Lincoln,</a></span> in Statuary Hall, Capitol; Gutzon Borglum, sculptor</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_240">240</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i243">The Lincoln Boulder,</a></span> at Nyack, N.&nbsp;Y.</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i246">Bas-Relief Head of Lincoln,</a></span> James W. Tuft, sculptor</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i249">A Study of Lincoln,</a></span> Painting by Blendon Campbell</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td></tr>
+   <tr><td><p><span class="smcap"><a href="#i252">The Lincoln Memorial,</a></span> at Washington, D.&nbsp;C., Henry Bacon, architect</p></td>
+       <td class="pge"><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td></tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<hr class="sixty" />
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+          <div class="figanchor"><a name="i000n" id="i000n"></a></div>
+
+          <div class="figcenter" style="width: 246px;">
+            <a href="images/i000nh.jpg">
+                <img src="images/i000n.jpg" width="246" height="319" alt="" />
+            </a>
+          </div>
+
+          <p class="cption">
+          LINCOLN<br />
+          From a bust by Johannes Gelert</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<hr class="sixty"  />
+
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</a></h2>
+
+<h3>THE POETIC SPIRIT OF LINCOLN</h3>
+
+<p class="center vbsm">By <span class="smcap">Marion Mills Miller</span></p>
+
+<p class="vsm fsmcap center">(See <a href="#Marion_Mills_Miller">biographical sketch</a> on page 146)</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Some</span> years ago, while editing Henry C. Whitney's
+"Life of Lincoln" I showed a photograph of the
+bust of Lincoln by Johannes Gelert, the most intellectual
+to my mind of all the studies of his face, to
+a little Italian shoeblack, and asked him if he knew
+who it was. The boy, evidently prompted by a recent
+lesson at school, said questioningly, "Whittier?&mdash;Longfellow?"
+I replied, "No, it is Lincoln, the great
+President." He answered, "Well, he looks like a poet,
+anyway."</p>
+
+<p>This verified a conclusion to which I had already
+come: Lincoln, had he lived in a region of greater
+culture, such as New England, might not have adopted
+the engrossing pursuits of law and politics, but, as did
+Whittier, have remained longer on the farm and gradually
+taken up the calling of letters, composing verse
+of much the same order as our Yankee bards', and
+poetry of even higher merit than some produced.</p>
+
+<p>It is not generally known that Lincoln, shortly before
+he went to Congress, wrote verse of a kind to compare
+favorably with the early attempts of American
+poets such as those named. Thus the two poems of
+his which have been preserved, for his early lampoons
+on his neighbors have happily been lost, are equal in
+poetic spirit and metrical art to Whittier's "The Prisoner
+for Debt," to which they are strikingly similar in
+melancholic mood.</p>
+
+<p>In 1846, at the age of 37, Lincoln conducted a literary
+correspondence with a friend, <a name="transv" id="transv">William Johnson by
+name, of like poetic tastes. In April of this year he
+wrote the following letter to Johnson:</a></p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+       <p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p>
+
+       <p><br /></p>
+
+       <p class="right vbsm">Tremont, April 18, 1846.</p>
+       <p class="vsm"><a name="transvi" id="transvi">FRIEND JOHNSTON:</a> Your letter, written some six weeks
+       since, was received in due course, and also the paper with the
+       parody. It is true, as suggested it might be, that I have never
+       seen Poe's "Raven"; and I very well know that a parody is
+       almost entirely dependent for its interest upon the reader's
+       acquaintance with the original. Still there is enough in the
+       polecat, self-considered, to afford one several hearty laughs. I
+       think four or five of the last stanzas are decidedly funny, particularly
+       where Jeremiah "scrubbed and washed, and prayed
+       and fasted."</p>
+
+       <p>I have not your letter now before me; but, from memory, I
+       think you ask me who is the author of the piece I sent you, and
+       that you do so ask as to indicate a slight suspicion that I myself
+       am the author. Beyond all question, I am not the author. I
+       would give all I am worth, and go in debt, to be able to write so
+       fine a piece as I think that is. Neither do I know who is the
+       author. I met it in a straggling form in a newspaper last summer,
+       and I remember to have seen it once before, about fifteen years
+       ago, and this is all I know about it.</p>
+
+       <p>The piece of poetry of my own which I alluded to, I was led
+       to write under the following circumstances. In the fall of 1844,
+       thinking I might aid some to carry the State of Indiana for Mr.
+       Clay, I went into the neighborhood in that State in which I was
+       raised, where my mother and only sister were buried, and from
+       which I had been absent about fifteen years.</p>
+
+       <p class="vbsm">That part of the country is, within itself, as unpoetical as any
+       spot of the earth; but still, seeing it and its objects and inhabitants
+       aroused feelings in me which were certainly poetry; though
+       whether my expression of those feelings is poetry is quite another
+       question. When I got to writing, the change of subject divided
+       the thing into four little divisions or cantos, the first only of
+       which I send you now, and may send the others hereafter.</p>
+
+       <p class="right6 vsm vb0"><a name="transxvi" id="transxvi">Yours truly,</a></p>
+       <p class="right1 v0">A. LINCOLN.</p>
+
+       <p><br /></p>
+
+             <table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                   <p class="i0"><a name="My_childhoods_home_I_see_again" id="My_childhoods_home_I_see_again">My childhood's home I see again,</a></p>
+                   <p class="i1">And sadden with the view;</p>
+                   <p class="i0">And still, as memory crowds my brain,</p>
+                   <p class="i1">There's pleasure in it too.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                   <p class="i0">O Memory! thou midway world</p>
+                   <p class="i1">'Twixt earth and paradise,</p>
+                   <p class="i0">Where things decayed and loved ones lost</p>
+                   <p class="i1">In dreamy shadows rise,</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                   <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span>
+                   <p class="i0">And, freed from all that's earthly vile,</p>
+                   <p class="i1">Seem hallowed, pure and bright,</p>
+                   <p class="i0">Like scenes in some enchanted isle</p>
+                   <p class="i1">All bathed in liquid light.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                   <p class="i0">As dusky mountains please the eye</p>
+                   <p class="i1">When twilight chases day;</p>
+                   <p class="i0">As bugle-notes that, passing by,</p>
+                   <p class="i1">In distance die away;</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                   <p class="i0">As leaving some grand waterfall,</p>
+                   <p class="i1">We, lingering, list its <span style="white-space: nowrap;">roar&mdash;</span></p>
+                   <p class="i0">So memory will hallow all</p>
+                   <p class="i1">We've known but know no more.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                   <p class="i0">Near twenty years have passed away</p>
+                   <p class="i1">Since here I bid farewell</p>
+                   <p class="i0">To woods and fields, and scenes of play,</p>
+                   <p class="i1">And playmates loved so well.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                   <p class="i0">Where many were, but few remain</p>
+                   <p class="i1">Of old familiar things;</p>
+                   <p class="i0">But seeing them to mind again</p>
+                   <p class="i1">The lost and absent brings.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                   <p class="i0">The friends I left that parting day,</p>
+                   <p class="i1">How changed, as time has sped!</p>
+                   <p class="i0">Young childhood grown, strong manhood gray;</p>
+                   <p class="i1">And half of all are dead.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                   <p class="i0">I hear the loved survivors tell</p>
+                   <p class="i1">How nought from death could save,</p>
+                   <p class="i0">Till every sound appears a knell,</p>
+                   <p class="i1">And every spot a grave.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                   <p class="i0">I range the fields with pensive tread,</p>
+                   <p class="i1">And pace the hollow rooms,</p>
+                   <p class="i0">And feel (companion of the dead)</p>
+                   <p class="i1">I'm living in the tombs.</p>
+                </div>
+             </td></tr></table>
+
+</div>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p>In September he wrote the following letter:</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+       <p class="right1 vbsm">Springfield, September 6, 1846.</p>
+
+       <p class="vsm"><a name="transvii" id="transvii">FRIEND JOHNSTON:</a> You remember when I wrote you
+       from Tremont last spring, sending you a little canto of what I
+       called poetry, I promised to bore you with another some time.
+       I now fulfil the promise. The subject of the present one is an
+       insane man; his name is Matthew Gentry. He is three years
+       older than I, and when we were boys we went to school together.
+       He was rather a bright lad, and the son of the rich man of a very
+       <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span>
+       poor neighborhood. At the age of nineteen he unaccountably
+       became furiously mad, from which condition he gradually settled
+       down into harmless insanity. When, as I told you in my other
+       letter, I visited my old home in the fall of 1844, I found him
+       still lingering in this wretched condition. In my poetizing
+       mood, I could not forget the impression his case made upon me.
+       Here is the result:</p>
+
+       <p><br /></p>
+
+          <table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+              <div class="stanza">
+                  <p class="i0"><a name="But_heres_an_object_more_of_dread" id="But_heres_an_object_more_of_dread">But here's an object more of dread</a></p>
+                  <p class="i1">Than aught the grave<span style="white-space: nowrap;"> contains&mdash;</span></p>
+                  <p class="i0">A human form with reason fled,</p>
+                  <p class="i1">While wretched life remains.</p>
+              </div>
+              <div class="stanza">
+                  <p class="i0">When terror spread, and neighbors ran</p>
+                  <p class="i1">Your dangerous strength to bind,</p>
+                  <p class="i0">And soon, a howling, crazy man,</p>
+                  <p class="i1">Your limbs were fast confined;</p>
+              </div>
+              <div class="stanza">
+                  <p class="i0">How then you strove and shrieked aloud,</p>
+                  <p class="i1">Your bones and sinews bared;</p>
+                  <p class="i0">And fiendish on the gazing crowd</p>
+                  <p class="i1">With burning eyeballs glared;</p>
+              </div>
+              <div class="stanza">
+                  <p class="i0">And begged and swore, and wept and prayed,</p>
+                  <p class="i1">With maniac laughter joined;</p>
+                  <p class="i0">How fearful were these signs displayed</p>
+                  <p class="i1">By pangs that killed the mind!</p>
+              </div>
+              <div class="stanza">
+                  <p class="i0">And when at length the drear and long</p>
+                  <p class="i1">Time soothed thy fiercer woes,</p>
+                  <p class="i0">How plaintively thy mournful song</p>
+                  <p class="i1">Upon the still night rose!</p>
+              </div>
+              <div class="stanza">
+                  <p class="i0">I've heard it oft as if I dreamed,</p>
+                  <p class="i1">Far distant, sweet and lone,</p>
+                  <p class="i0">The funeral dirge it ever seemed</p>
+                  <p class="i1">Of reason dead and gone.</p>
+              </div>
+              <div class="stanza">
+                  <p class="i0">To drink its strains I've stole away,</p>
+                  <p class="i1">All stealthily and still,</p>
+                  <p class="i0">Ere yet the rising god of day</p>
+                  <p class="i1">Had streaked the eastern hill.</p>
+              </div>
+              <div class="stanza">
+                  <p class="i0">Air held her breath; trees with the spell</p>
+                  <p class="i1">Seemed sorrowing angels round,</p>
+                  <p class="i0">Whose swelling tears in dewdrops fell</p>
+                  <p class="i1">Upon the listening ground.</p>
+              </div>
+              <div class="stanza">
+                  <p class="i0">But this is past, and naught remains</p>
+                  <p class="i1">That raised thee o'er the brute:</p>
+                  <p class="i0">Thy piercing shrieks and soothing strains</p>
+                  <p class="i1">Are like, forever mute.</p>
+                  <p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p>
+              </div>
+              <div class="stanza">
+                  <p class="i0">Now fare thee well! More thou the cause</p>
+                  <p class="i1">Than subject now of woe.</p>
+                  <p class="i0">All mental pangs by time's kind laws</p>
+                  <p class="i1">Hast lost the power to know.</p>
+              </div>
+              <div class="stanza">
+                  <p class="i0">O death! thou awe-inspiring prince</p>
+                  <p class="i1">That keepst the world in fear,</p>
+                  <p class="i0">Why dost thou tear more blest ones hence,</p>
+                  <p class="i1">And leave him lingering here?</p>
+              </div>
+          </td></tr></table>
+
+       <p><br /></p>
+
+       <p class="vbsm">If I should ever send another, the subject will be a "Bear Hunt."</p>
+
+       <p class="right6 vsm vb0">Yours as ever,</p>
+       <p class="right v0">A. LINCOLN.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p>The poem alluded to in the first letter is undoubtedly
+"Oh, Why Should the Spirit of Mortal Be <span style="white-space: nowrap;">Proud?",</span> by
+William Knox, a Scottish poet, known to fame only by
+its authorship. It remained the favorite of Lincoln
+until his death, being frequently alluded to by him in
+conversation with his friends. Because it so aptly
+presents Lincoln's own spirit it is here presented in
+full. During his Presidency he said:</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+    <div class="blockquot">
+        <p>"There is a poem which has been a great favorite with me
+        for years, which was first shown me when a young man by a
+        friend, and which I afterwards saw and cut from a newspaper
+        and learned by heart. I would give a good deal to know who
+        wrote it, but I have never been able to ascertain."</p>
+    </div>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p>Then, half closing his eyes, he repeated the verses:</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="WHY_SHOULD_THE_SPIRIT_OF_MORTAL_BE_PROUD" id="WHY_SHOULD_THE_SPIRIT_OF_MORTAL_BE_PROUD">OH, WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL BE PROUD?</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm">By <span class="smcap">William Knox.</span></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+            <p><br /></p>
+
+            <p>William Knox was born at Firth, in the parish of Lilliesleaf,
+            in the county of Roxburghshire, on the 17th of August, 1789.
+            From his early youth he composed verses. He merited the
+            attention of Sir Walter Scott, who afforded him pecuniary assistance.
+            He died November 12, 1825, at the age of thirty-six.</p>
+
+            <p><br /></p>
+
+            <table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                    <p class="i0">Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?</p>
+                    <p class="i0">Like a swift-flitting meteor, a fast-flying cloud,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">The flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">He passes from life to his rest in the grave.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                    <p class="i0">The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">Be scattered around and together be laid;</p>
+                    <p class="i0">And the young and the old, and the low and the high</p>
+                    <p class="i0">Shall molder to dust and together shall lie.</p>
+                    <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                    <p class="i0">The infant a mother attended and loved,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">The mother that infant's affection who proved,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">The husband that mother and infant who blest,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                    <p class="i0">The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">Shone beauty and pleasure, her triumphs are by;</p>
+                    <p class="i0">And the mem'ry of those who loved her and praised</p>
+                    <p class="i0">Are alike from the minds of the living erased.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                    <p class="i0">The hand of the king that the scepter hath borne,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">The brow of the priest that the miter hath worn,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">The eye of the sage and the heart of the brave</p>
+                    <p class="i0">Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                    <p class="i0">The peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">The herdsman who climbed with his goats up the steep,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">The beggar who wandered in search of his bread,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">Have faded away like the grass that we tread.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                    <p class="i0">The saint who enjoyed the communion of heaven,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">The sinner who dared to remain unforgiven,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                    <p class="i0">So the multitude goes like the flower or the weed</p>
+                    <p class="i0">That withers away to let others succeed,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">So the multitude comes, even those we behold,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">To repeat every tale that has often been told.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                    <p class="i0">For we are the same that our fathers have been;</p>
+                    <p class="i0">We see the same sights our fathers have seen;</p>
+                    <p class="i0">We drink the same streams, and view the same sun,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">And run the same course our fathers have run.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                    <p class="i0">The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">From the death we are shrinking our fathers would shrink;</p>
+                    <p class="i0">To the life we are clinging they also would cling,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">But it speeds from us all like a bird on the wing.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                    <p class="i0">They loved, but the story we cannot unfold;</p>
+                    <p class="i0">They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold;</p>
+                    <p class="i0">They grieved, but no wail from their slumber will come;</p>
+                    <p class="i0">They joyed, but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                    <p class="i0">They died, ay, they died. We things that are now,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">That walk on the turf that lies over their brow,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">And make in their dwellings a transient abode,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.</p>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                    <p class="i0">Yea, hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">Are mingled together in sunshine and rain:</p>
+                    <p class="i0">And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">Still follow each other like surge upon surge.</p>
+                    <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span>
+                </div>
+                <div class="stanza">
+                    <p class="i0">'Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,</p>
+                    <p class="i0">From the gilded salon to the bier and the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">shroud,&mdash;</span></p>
+                    <p class="i0">Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?</p>
+                </div>
+            </td></tr></table>
+
+</div>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p>"The Last Leaf," by Oliver Wendell Holmes, was
+also a favorite poem of Lincoln, says Henry C. Whitney,
+his friend and biographer (in his "Life of Lincoln,"
+Vol. I, page 238):</p>
+
+<p>"Over and over again I have heard him repeat:</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+   <div class="blockquot">
+
+         <table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+             <div class="stanza">
+                 <p class="i0">The mossy marbles rest</p>
+                 <p class="i0">On the lips that he has prest</p>
+                 <p class="i1">In their bloom;</p>
+                 <p class="i0">And the names he loved to hear</p>
+                 <p class="i0">Have been carved for many a year</p>
+                 <p class="i1">On the tomb.</p>
+             </div>
+         </td></tr></table>
+   </div>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p>and tears would come unbidden to his eyes, probably
+at thought of the grave (his mother's) at Gentryville,
+or that in the bend of the Sangamo" (of Ann Rutledge,
+his first love, who died shortly before the time set
+for their wedding, and whose memory Lincoln ever
+kept sacred).</p>
+
+<p>While Lincoln, so far as can be ascertained, wrote
+nothing in verse after 1846, he developed in his speeches
+a literary style which is poetical in the highest sense
+of that term. More than all American statesmen his
+utterances and writings possess that classic quality
+whose supreme expression is found in Greek literature.
+This is because Lincoln had an essentially Hellenic
+mind. First of all the architecture of his thought was
+that of the Greek masters, who, whether as Phidias
+they built the Parthenon to crown with harmonious
+beauty the Acropolis, or as Homer they recorded in
+swelling narrative from its dramatic beginning the
+strife of the Achaeans before Troy, or even as Euclid,
+they developed from postulates the relations of space,
+had a deep insight into the order in which mother
+nature was striving to express herself, and a reverent
+impulse to aid her in bodying forth according to her
+methods the ideal forms of the cosmos, the world of
+beauty, no less within the soul of man than without
+it, which was intended by such help to be realized as a
+whole in the infinity of time, and in part in the vision
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span>
+of every true workman. In short, Lincoln had a profound
+sense of the fitness of things, that which Aristotle,
+the scientific analyst of human thought and the philosopher
+of its proper expression, called "poetic justice."
+He strove to make his reasoning processes strictly
+logical, and to this end carried with him as he rode
+the legal circuit not law-books, but a copy of Euclid's
+geometry, and passed his time on the way demonstrating
+to his drivers the theorems therein proposed. "Demonstrate"
+he said he considered to be the greatest word
+in the English language. He constructed every one of
+his later speeches on the plan of a Euclidean solution.
+His Cooper Union speech on "Slavery as the Fathers
+Viewed It," which contributed so largely to his Presidential
+nomination, was such a demonstration, settling
+what was thereafter never attempted to be controverted:
+his contention that the makers of the Constitution
+merely tolerated property in human flesh and
+blood as a primitive and passing phase of civilization,
+and never intended that it should be perpetuated by
+the charter of the Republic.</p>
+
+<p>So, too, the Gettysburg speech, brief as it is, is the
+statement of a thesis, the principles upon which the
+Fathers founded the nation, and of the heroic demonstration
+of the same by the soldiers fallen on the field,
+and the addition of a moral corollary of this, the high
+resolve of the living to prosecute the work until the
+vision of the Fathers was realized.</p>
+
+<p>In substance of thought and in form of its presentation
+the speech is as perfect a poem as ever was written,
+and even in the minor qualities of artistic language&mdash;rhythm
+and cadence, phonetic euphony, rhetorical
+symbolism, and that subtle reminiscence of a great
+literary and spiritual inheritance, the Bible, which
+stands to us as Homer did to the ancients&mdash;it excels the
+finest gem to be found in poetic cabinets from the
+Greek Anthology downward. Only because it was not
+written in the typography of verse, with capitalized
+and paragraphed initial words at the beginning of each
+thought-group of words, has it failed of recognition as
+a poem by academic minds. Had Walt Whitman composed
+the address, and printed it in the above manner,
+it would now appear in every anthology of poetry published
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span>
+since its date. To convince of this those conventional
+people who must have an ocular demonstration of
+form in order to compare the address with accepted
+examples of poetry, I will dare to incur the condemnation
+of those who rightly look upon such a departure
+from Lincoln's own manner of writing the speech as
+profanation, and present it in the shape of <i>vers libre.</i>
+For the latter class of readers this, the greatest poem
+by Lincoln, the greatest, indeed, yet produced in
+America, may be preferably read in the original form
+on <a href="#Page_100">page 100</a> of this collection. I trust that these,
+especially if they are teachers of literature, will pardon,
+for the sake of others less cultivated in poetic taste,
+what may appear a duplication here, unnecessary to
+themselves, of the address.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="SPEECH_AT_GETTYSBURG" id="SPEECH_AT_GETTYSBURG">SPEECH AT GETTYSBURG</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm">By <span class="smcap">Abraham Lincoln</span></p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Four score and seven years ago</p>
+      <p class="i0">Our fathers brought forth on this continent</p>
+      <p class="i0">A new nation,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Conceived in liberty,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And dedicated to the proposition</p>
+      <p class="i0">That all men are created equal.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Now we are engaged in a great civil war,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Testing whether that nation,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Or any nation so conceived and so dedicated,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Can long endure.</p>
+      <p class="i0">We are met on a great battle-field of that war.</p>
+      <p class="i0">We have come to dedicate a portion of that field</p>
+      <p class="i0">As a final resting-place</p>
+      <p class="i0">For those who here gave their lives</p>
+      <p class="i0">That that nation might live.</p>
+      <p class="i0">It is altogether fitting and proper</p>
+      <p class="i0">That we should do this.</p>
+      <p class="i0">But, in a larger sense,</p>
+      <p class="i0">We cannot <span style="white-space: nowrap;">dedicate&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">We cannot <span style="white-space: nowrap;">consecrate&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">We cannot <span style="white-space: nowrap;">hallow&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">This ground.</p>
+      <p class="i0">The brave men, living and dead,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Who struggled here,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Have consecrated it far above our poor power</p>
+      <p class="i0">To add or detract.</p>
+      <p class="i0">The world will little note nor long remember</p>
+      <p class="i0">What we say here,</p>
+      <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span>
+      <p class="i0">But it can never forget</p>
+      <p class="i0">What they did here.</p>
+      <p class="i0">It is for us, the living, rather,</p>
+      <p class="i0">To be dedicated here to the unfinished work</p>
+      <p class="i0">Which they who fought here have so nobly advanced.</p>
+      <p class="i0">It is rather for us to be here dedicated</p>
+      <p class="i0">To the great task remaining before <span style="white-space: nowrap;">us&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">That from these honored dead</p>
+      <p class="i0">We take increased devotion to that cause</p>
+      <p class="i0">For which they gave the last full measure of devotion;</p>
+      <p class="i0">That we here highly resolve</p>
+      <p class="i0">That these dead shall not have died in vain;</p>
+      <p class="i0">That this nation, under God,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Shall have a new birth of freedom;</p>
+      <p class="i0">And that government of the people,</p>
+      <p class="i0">By the people, and for the people</p>
+      <p class="i0">Shall not perish from the earth.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p>Lincoln attained this classic perfection of ordered
+thought, and with it, as an inevitable accompaniment
+this classic beauty of expression, only by great struggle.
+He became a poet of the first rank only by virtue of
+his moral spirit. He was continually correcting deficiencies
+in his character, which were far greater than
+is generally received, owing to the tendency of American
+historians of the tribe of Parson Weems to find by force
+illustrations of moral heroism in the youth of our great
+men. Thus Lincoln is represented as a noble lad, who,
+having allowed a borrowed book to be ruined by rain,
+went to the owner and offered to "pull fodder" to
+repay him, which the man ungenerously permitted
+him to do. The truth is, that the neighbor, to whom
+the book was a cherished possession, required him to
+do the work in repayment, and that Lincoln not only
+did it grudgingly, but afterwards lampooned the man
+so severely in satiric verse that he was ashamed to
+show himself at neighborhood gatherings. All the
+people about Gentryville feared Lincoln's caustic wit,
+and disliked him for it, although they were greatly
+impressed with his ability exhibited thereby. Lincoln
+recognized his moral obliquity, and curbed his propensity
+for satire, which was a case of that "exercise of
+natural faculty" which affects all gifted persons. And
+when he left that region he visited all the neighbors,
+and asked pardon of those whom he had ridiculed. The
+true Lincoln is a far better example to boys than the
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[xv]</a></span>
+fictitious one, in that he had more unlovely traits at
+first than the average lad, yet he reformed, with the
+result that, when he went to new scenes, he speedily
+became the most popular young man in the neighborhood.
+He was one of those who</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+      <table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+         <div class="stanza">
+            <p class="i4">"rise on stepping stones</p>
+            <p class="i0">Of their dead selves to higher things."</p>
+         </div>
+      </td></tr></table>
+</div>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p>The reformation of his character by self examination
+and determination not to make the same mistake
+again seems to have induced similar effects and methods
+for their attainment in the case of his intellectual development.
+Whatever the connection, both regenerations
+proceeded apace. Lincoln at first was a shallow
+thinker, accepting without examination the views of
+others, especially popular statesmen, such as Henry
+Clay, whose magnetic personality was drawing to himself
+the high-spirited young men of the West. Some
+of the political doctrines which Lincoln then adopted
+he retained to the end, these being on subjects such as
+taxation and finance whose moral bearing was not
+apparent, and therefore into which he never inquired
+closely, for Lincoln's mind could not be profoundly interested
+in any save a moral question. When he found
+that a revered statesman was weak upon a crucial
+moral issue, he repressed his innate tendency to loyalty
+and rejected him. Thus, after a visit to Henry Clay
+in Kentucky, when the slavery question was arising to
+vex the country despite the efforts the aged statesman
+had made to settle it by the compromise of 1850,
+Lincoln returned disillusioned, having found that the
+light he himself possessed on the subject was clearer
+than that of his old leader. The eulogy which he delivered
+on the death of Clay, which occurred shortly
+afterward (in 1852), is the most perfunctory of all his
+addresses.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, not till the time of the Repeal of the Missouri
+Compromise of 1854, which brought Lincoln back into
+politics by its overthrow of what he regarded as the
+constitutional exclusion of slavery from the Territories,
+did he rise to his highest powers as a thinker and
+speaker. Lincoln had been defeated for reelection to
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</a></span>
+Congress because of his opposition, though not highly
+moral in character, to the popular Mexican war, and,
+regarding himself as a political failure, he had devoted
+himself to law. His most notable speech in the House
+of Representatives, a well composed satirical arraignment
+of President Polk for throwing the country into
+war, had failed utterly of its intended effect, probably
+because of its trimming partisan tone. In 1854 he
+was relieved of the trammels of party, the Whigs
+having gone to smash. Anti-slavery had become a
+great moral movement, and he was drawn into its
+current. Almost at once he became its Western leader.
+His speech against the Repeal of the Missouri Compromise
+which had been effected by his inveterate
+antagonist, Senator Stephen A. Douglas, was his first
+classic achievement in argumentative oratory. While
+in the greater aspect of artistic composition, the form
+of the address as a whole, his master was Euclid, in
+minor points the influence of Shakespeare, of whom
+Lincoln had become a great reader, was apparent, as
+indicated by a quotation from the dramatist, and an
+application to Senator Douglas of the scene of Lady
+Macbeth trying to wash out the indelible stain upon
+her hand. Also the Bible was the source of strong and
+telling phrases and figures of speech. Thus he denominated
+slavery as "the great Behemoth of danger,"
+and asked, "shall the strong grip of the nation be
+loosened upon him, to intrust him to the hands of his
+feeble keepers?"</p>
+
+<p>And, in the following passage, characteristic of the
+new Lincoln, I think that either Shakespeare and the
+Bible had combined to inspire him with graphic description
+of character and moral indignation, or they enforced
+these native powers.</p>
+
+<p>"Again, you have among you a sneaking individual
+of the class of native tyrants known as the 'Slave-Dealer'.
+He watches your necessities, and crawls up
+to buy your slave at a speculative price. If you cannot
+help it, you sell to him; but if you can help it, you
+drive him from your door. You despise him utterly.
+You do not recognize him as a friend, or even as an
+honest man. Your children must not play with his;
+they may rollick freely with the little negroes, but not
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[xvii]</a></span>
+with the slave-dealer's children. If you are obliged to
+deal with him you try to get through the job without
+so much as touching him. It is common with you to
+join hands with the men you meet, but with the slave-dealer
+you avoid the ceremony&mdash;instinctively shrinking
+from the snaky contact."</p>
+
+<p>Of Lincoln's critical appreciation of Shakespeare
+Frank B. Carpenter, the artist of the "First Reading
+of the Emancipation Proclamation" (see illustration
+on <a href="#Page_206">page 206</a>), writes in his "Six Months at the White
+House with Abraham Lincoln" as follows:</p>
+
+<p>"<a name="transxvii" id="transxvii">Presently the conversation turned upon Shakspeare,
+of whom it is well known Mr. Lincoln was very fond.
+He once remarked, 'It matters not to me whether
+Shakspeare be well or ill acted; with him the thought
+suffices.</a>' Edwin Booth was playing an engagement
+at this time at Grover's Theatre. He had been announced
+for the coming evening in his famous part of
+<i>Hamlet.</i> The President had never witnessed his representation
+of this character, and he proposed being
+present. The mention of this play, which I afterward
+learned had at all times a peculiar charm for Mr.
+Lincoln's mind, waked up a train of thought I was not
+prepared for. Said he,&mdash;and his words have often
+returned to me with a sad interest since his own assassination,&mdash;'There
+is one passage of the play of "Hamlet"
+which is very apt to be slurred over by the actor, or
+omitted altogether, which seems to me the choicest
+part of the play. It is the soliloquy of the King,
+after the murder. It always struck me as one of the
+finest touches of nature in the world.'</p>
+
+<p>"Then, throwing himself into the very spirit of the
+scene, he took up the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">words:&mdash;</span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+   <table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">"'<a name="O_my_offence_is_rank" id="O_my_offence_is_rank">O my offence is rank,</a> it smells to heaven;</p>
+         <p class="i0">It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,</p>
+         <p class="i0">A brother's murder!&mdash;Pray can I not,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Though inclination be as sharp as will;</p>
+         <p class="i0">My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;</p>
+         <p class="i0">And, like a man to double business bound,</p>
+         <p class="i0">I stand in pause where I shall first begin,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And both neglect. What if this cursed hand</p>
+         <p class="i0">Were thicker than itself with brother's blood?</p>
+         <p class="i0">Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens</p>
+         <p class="i0">To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[xviii]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">But to confront the visage of offence;</p>
+         <p class="i0">And what's in prayer but this twofold <span style="white-space: nowrap;">force&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">To be forestalled ere we come to fall,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Or pardoned, being down? Then I'll look up;</p>
+         <p class="i0">My fault is past. But O what form of prayer</p>
+         <p class="i0">Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul <span style="white-space: nowrap;">murder?&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">That cannot be; since I am still possessed</p>
+         <p class="i0">Of those effects for which I did the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">murder,&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">My crown, my own ambition, and my queen.</p>
+         <p class="i1">May one be pardoned and retain the offence?</p>
+         <p class="i0">In the corrupted currents of this world,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself</p>
+         <p class="i0">Buys out the law; but 'tis not so <i>above.</i></p>
+         <p class="i0">There is no shuffling; there the action lies</p>
+         <p class="i0">In its true nature; and we ourselves compelled,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,</p>
+         <p class="i0">To give in evidence. What then? What rests?</p>
+         <p class="i0">Try what repentance can; what can it not?</p>
+         <p class="i0">Yet what can it when one cannot repent?</p>
+         <p class="i1">O wretched state! O bosom black as death!</p>
+         <p class="i0">O bruised soul that, struggling to be free,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Art more engaged! Help, angels, make assay!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Bow, stubborn knees! And heart with strings of steel,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe;</p>
+         <p class="i0">All may be well!'</p>
+      </div>
+   </td></tr></table>
+</div>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p>"He repeated this entire passage from memory, with a
+feeling and appreciation unsurpassed by anything I
+ever witnessed upon the stage. Remaining in thought
+for a few moments, he <span style="white-space: nowrap;">continued:&mdash;</span></p>
+
+<p>"'The opening of the play of "King Richard the
+Third" seems to me often entirely misapprehended. It is
+quite common for an actor to come upon the stage,
+and, in a sophomoric style, to begin with a <span style="white-space: nowrap;">flourish:&mdash;</span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+   <table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">"'Now is the winter of our discontent</p>
+         <p class="i0">Made glorious summer by this sun of York,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And all the clouds that lowered upon our house,</p>
+         <p class="i0">In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.'</p>
+      </div>
+   </td></tr></table>
+</div>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p>"'Now,' said he, 'this is all wrong. Richard, you remember,
+had been, and was then plotting the destruction
+of his brothers, to make room for himself. Outwardly,
+the most loyal to the newly crowned king,
+secretly he could scarcely contain his impatience at the
+obstacles still in the way of his own elevation. He
+appears upon the stage, just after the crowning of
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[xix]</a></span>
+Edward, burning with repressed hate and jealousy.
+The prologue is the utterance of the most intense
+bitterness and satire.' Then, unconsciously assuming
+the character, Mr. Lincoln repeated, also from memory,
+Richard's soliloquy, rendering it with a degree of force
+and power that made it seem like a new creation to
+me. Though familiar with the passage from boyhood,
+I can truly say that never till that moment had I fully
+appreciated its spirit. I could not refrain from laying
+down my palette and brushes, and applauding heartily
+upon his conclusion, saying, at the same time, half in
+earnest, that I was not sure but that he had made a
+mistake in the choice of a profession, considerably, as
+may be imagined, to his amusement. Mr. Sinclair has
+since repeatedly said to me that he never heard these
+choice passages of Shakspeare rendered with more
+effect by the most famous of modern actors."</p>
+
+<p>Lincoln's sense of the classic phrase seems to have
+been native with him, for we find it in his earliest
+utterances. Such a phrase appears in homely proverbial
+form in his first speech: "My politics are short and
+sweet, like the old woman's dance." Impaired in
+rhythm of thought and sound by an awkward, though
+logical, parenthetical expression, another phrase stands
+out in a "spread-eagle" passage from his first formal
+address, that on "The Perpetuation of Our Political
+Institutions."</p>
+
+<p>"All the armies of Europe, Asia, and Africa combined,
+with all the treasure of earth (our own excepted)
+in its military chest, with a Bonaparte for a commander,
+could not by force <i>take a drink from the Ohio or make a
+track on the Blue Ridge</i> in a trial of a thousand years."</p>
+
+<p>And in a eulogy on Washington, Lincoln early
+achieved a line which in phonetic quality, rhetorical
+figure and rhythmic cadence is pure poetry, though
+not of an exceptional order.</p>
+
+<p>"In solemn awe we pronounce the name, and in its
+naked deathless splendor leave it shining on."</p>
+
+<p>In an article entitled "Lincoln's Literary Experiments,"
+by John G. Nicolay, one of Lincoln's two
+private secretaries, which was published in the Century
+Magazine for April, 1894, are reproduced Lincoln's
+notes of one lyceum lecture on "Niagara Falls," and
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">[xx]</a></span>
+the text of another on "Discoveries, Inventions and
+Improvements." These, however, detract, if anything,
+from Lincoln's reputation as a writer, for in
+choice of subjects and in style of treatment there is
+seen an almost discreditable stooping of a man of
+genius, even in his function of teacher, to the low popular
+taste of the West at the time. In the first lecture
+Lincoln presented the statistics of the water power of
+Niagara Falls for each minute, and led his hearers from
+this base to the "contemplation of the vast power the
+sun is constantly exerting in the quiet noiseless operation
+of lifting water up to be rained down again." Yet
+at this point he stopped short of his duty as an educator,
+for he made no suggestion as to the utilization
+of this power. He was satisfied with giving the people
+what they had come for&mdash;the pleasant excitation of
+a mental faculty, that of the imagination in its primary
+form of wonder at the grandeur of the material universe.
+In short, he was acting as a mere entertainer&mdash;as so
+many of our public men do now at "Chautauquas."</p>
+
+<p>In the second lecture he <a name="transxx" id="transxx">performed this function
+in a still more</a> discreditable manner, by catering to the
+unworthy demand of his hearers for obvious and familiar
+humorous conceptions to grasp which would cause
+them no mental exertion. Thus, in speaking of the
+inventions of the locomotive and telegraph, already
+old enough for the first inevitable similitudes and
+jocose remarks about them to be current, he said:</p>
+
+<p>"The iron horse is panting and impatient to carry
+him (man) everywhere in no time; and the lightning
+stands ready harnessed to take and bring his tidings
+in a trifle less than no time."</p>
+
+<p>This reveals Lincoln's taste for the characteristic
+American humor of exaggeration, which was later to
+afford him relief from the stress and strain of his duties
+as President in the works of "Petroleum V. Nasby"
+and "Artemus Ward," writers, however, with a quaint
+originality which lifted them and their admirers above
+the plane of humorous composition and appreciation
+of the preceding decade. Indeed, Lincoln developed
+his own power of witty expression to a degree excelling
+that of the writers he admired, and in quality of
+product, if not in quantity (for the greater part of the
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxi" id="Page_xxi">[xxi]</a></span>
+"funny stories" attributed to him, thank heaven, are
+apocryphal) he stands in the front rank of the American
+humorists of his generation.</p>
+
+<p>And as the poet and the wit are near akin through
+this common appeal to the imagination, Lincoln, had
+he overcome the obsession of melancholy in his nature
+which was the mood in which he resorted to poetry,
+and which early limited his taste for it to verse of a sad
+and reflective kind, might have become a literary craftsman
+of the order of Holmes, whose poetry in the main
+was bright and joyous, and, even when he occasionally
+touched upon such subjects as death, was, as we have
+seen, informed with inspiring Hellenic beauty rather
+than depressing Hebraic moralization. It was in his
+sad moments, says Henry C. Whitney, that the mind
+of Lincoln "gravitated toward the weird, sombre and
+mystical. In his normal and tranquil state of mind,
+'The Last Leaf,' by Oliver Wendell Holmes, was his
+favorite" (poem). It was Lincoln's happy lot to rise
+in the realm of oratory by the power of his poetic spirit
+higher than any American, save probably Emerson, has
+done in other fields of literature. On the theme of
+slavery, where his unerring moral sense had free sway,
+he became our supreme orator, transcending even
+Webster in grandeur of thought and beauty of its expression.
+His periods are not as sonorous as the
+Olympian New England orator's, but their accents will
+reach as far and resound even longer by the carrying
+and sustaining power of the ideas which they express.
+Indeed, it is on the wings supplied by Lincoln that
+Webster's most significant conception, that of the nature
+of the Constitution, is even now borne along,
+because of the uplifting ideality which Lincoln gave
+it by more broadly applying it to the nation itself as an
+examplar and preserver to the world of ideal government.</p>
+
+<p>Webster said: "It is, sir, the people's Constitution,
+the people's Government; made for the people; made
+by the people; and answerable to the people."</p>
+
+<p>This he made the thesis for an argument which was
+to be followed by a magnificent peroration ending with
+a sentiment, calculated for use as a toast at political
+banquets, and as a patriotic slogan: "Liberty and
+Union, now and forever, one and inseparable!"
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxii" id="Page_xxii">[xxii]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Lincoln with purer taste, the expression of which, be
+it said to Webster's credit, had been made possible by
+the acceptance of the earlier statesman's contention,
+assumed the thesis as placed beyond all controversy,
+and, making it the exhortation of his speech, gave to it
+the character of a sacred adjuration: "That we here
+highly resolve &hellip; that government of the people,
+by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from
+the earth."</p>
+
+<p>Another example of Lincoln's ability to improve the
+composition of another writer is the closing paragraph
+of his first inaugural address. The President-elect had
+submitted the manuscript of this most important
+speech, which would be universally scrutinized to find
+what policy he would adopt toward the seceded States,
+to Seward, his chosen Secretary of State, for criticism
+and suggestion. Mr. Seward approved the argument,
+but advised the addition of a closing paragraph "to
+meet and remove prejudice and passion in the South;
+and despondency in the East." He submitted two
+paragraphs of his own as alternative models. The
+second was in that poetic vein which occasionally
+cropped out in Seward's speeches, and over which
+Lincoln on better acquaintance was wont good-naturedly
+to rally him. It is evidence of Lincoln's predilection
+for poetic language, at least at the close of a
+speech, that he adopted the latter paragraph. It ran:</p>
+
+<p>"I close. We are not, we must not be, aliens or enemies,
+but fellow-countrymen and brethren. Although
+passion has strained our bonds of affection too hardly,
+they must not, I am sure they will not, be broken.
+The mystic chords which, proceeding from so many
+battlefields and so many patriot graves, pass through
+all the hearts and all hearths in this broad continent
+of ours, will yet again harmonize in their ancient
+music when breathed upon by the guardian angel of
+the nation."</p>
+
+<p>Lincoln, by deft touches which reveal a literary taste
+beyond that of any statesman of his time, indeed beyond
+that which he himself had yet exhibited, transformed
+this passage into his peroration. His emendations
+were largely in the way of excision of unnecessary
+phrases, resolution of sentences broken in construction
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxiii" id="Page_xxiii">[xxiii]</a></span>
+into several shorter, more direct ones, and change of
+general and vague terms in rhetorical figure to concrete
+and picturesque words. He wrote:</p>
+
+<p>"I am loth to close. We are not enemies, but friends.
+We must not be enemies. Though passion may have
+strained, it must not break our bonds of affection.
+The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every
+battle-field and patriot grave to every living heart and
+hearth-stone all over this broad land, will yet swell the
+chorus of the Union when again touched, as surely they
+will be, by the better angels of our nature."</p>
+
+<p>More than the persuasive argument and gentle yet
+determined spirit of the address, it was the chaste
+beauty and tender feeling of these closing words which
+convinced the people that Lincoln measured up to the
+high mental and moral stature demanded of one who
+was to be their leader through the most critical period
+that had arisen in the life of the nation.</p>
+
+<p>The second inaugural address, coming so shortly
+before the President's death, formed unintentionally
+his farewell address. It has the spirit and tone of
+prophecy. The Bible, in thought and expression, was
+its inspiration. The first two of its three paragraphs
+ring like a chapter from Isaiah, chief of the poet seers
+of old. The concluding paragraph is an apostolic benediction
+such as Paul or John might have delivered.</p>
+
+<p>"With malice toward none; with charity for all;
+with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the
+right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to
+bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall
+have borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphan&mdash;to
+do all which may achieve and cherish a just and
+lasting peace among ourselves, and with all nations."</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<hr class="sixty"  />
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<h1>THE POETS' LINCOLN</h1>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<hr class="sixty"  />
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+          <div class="figanchor"><a name="i013" id="i013"></a></div>
+
+          <div class="figcenter vbsm" style="width: 292px;">
+            <a href="images/i013h.jpg">
+                <img src="images/i013.jpg" width="292" height="236" alt="" />
+            </a>
+          </div>
+
+          <p class="cption">
+          THE LOG CABIN<br />
+          Birthplace of Lincoln, near Hodgensville, Kentucky</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Abraham Lincoln</span> was born on the 12th day
+of February, 1809, on the Big South Fork of Nolin
+Creek, in what was then known as Hardin, but
+is now known as La Rue County, Kentucky, about
+three miles from Hodgensville.</p>
+
+<p>The above illustration represents the cabin in which
+he was born, as described by his former neighbors.</p>
+
+<p>Out of that old hut came the mighty man of destiny,
+the matchless man of the Nineteenth Century. The
+world has no parallel for that transition from the cabin
+to the White House.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Julia Ward [Howe]</span> was born in New York City,
+May 27, 1819. At an early age she wrote plays and
+poems. In 1843 Miss Ward married Dr. Samuel
+Gridley Howe. In 1861, while on a visit to the camp
+near Washington, with Governor John A. Andrew and
+other friends, Mrs. Howe wrote to the air of "John
+Brown's Body" the "Battle Hymn of the Republic"
+which has become so popular. She also published
+several books of poems. She espoused the Woman-Suffrage
+movement in 1869, and devoted much of her
+time to the cause. She died in 1910.</p>
+
+<p>This poem was written by Mrs. Howe in her ninetieth
+year and read by her in Symphony Hall, Boston, on
+the centenary of the martyred President's birthday,
+February 12, 1909.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="LINCOLN_Howe" id="LINCOLN_Howe">LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+     <div class="stanza">
+        <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Through</span> the dim pageant of the years</p>
+        <p class="i0">A wondrous tracery appears:<span style="letter-spacing: 1em;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></p>
+        <p class="i0">A cabin of the western wild</p>
+        <p class="i0">Shelters in sleep a new born child.</p>
+     </div>
+     <div class="stanza">
+        <p class="i0">Nor nurse nor parent dear can know</p>
+        <p class="i0">The way those infant feet must go,</p>
+        <p class="i0">And yet a nation's help and hope</p>
+        <p class="i0">Are sealed within that horoscope.</p>
+     </div>
+     <div class="stanza">
+        <p class="i0">Beyond is toil for daily bread,</p>
+        <p class="i0">And thought to noble issues led.</p>
+        <p class="i0">And courage, arming for the morn</p>
+        <p class="i0">For whose behest this man was born.</p>
+     </div>
+     <div class="stanza">
+        <p class="i0">A man of homely, rustic ways,</p>
+        <p class="i0">Yet he achieves the forum's praise</p>
+        <p class="i0">And soon earth's highest meed has won,</p>
+        <p class="i0">The seat and sway of Washington.</p>
+        <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
+     </div>
+     <div class="stanza">
+        <p class="i0">No throne of honors and delights,</p>
+        <p class="i0">Distrustful days and sleepless nights,</p>
+        <p class="i0">To struggle, suffer and aspire,</p>
+        <p class="i0">Like Israel, led by cloud and fire.</p>
+     </div>
+     <div class="stanza">
+        <p class="i0">A treacherous shot, a sob of rest,</p>
+        <p class="i0">A martyr's palm upon his breast,</p>
+        <p class="i0">A welcome from the glorious seat</p>
+        <p class="i0">Where blameless souls of heroes meet.</p>
+     </div>
+     <div class="stanza">
+        <p class="i0">And thrilling, through unmeasured days,</p>
+        <p class="i0">A song of gratitude and praise,</p>
+        <p class="i0">A cry that all the earth shall heed,</p>
+        <p class="i0">To God, who gave him for our need.</p>
+     </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_GREAT_OAK" id="THE_GREAT_OAK">THE GREAT OAK</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+     <div class="stanza">
+        <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Some</span> men are born, while others seem to grow</p>
+        <p class="i0">From out the soil, like towering trees that spread<span style="letter-spacing: 1em;">&nbsp;</span></p>
+        <p class="i0">Their strong, broad limbs in shelter overhead</p>
+        <p class="i0">When tempest storms, protecting all below.</p>
+     </div>
+     <div class="stanza">
+        <p class="i0">Lincoln, Great Oak of a Nation's life,</p>
+        <p class="i0">Rose from the soil, with all its virgin power</p>
+        <p class="i0">Emplanted in him for the fateful hour,</p>
+        <p class="i0 vbsm">When he might save a Nation in its strife.</p>
+
+                      <p class="right"><i>&mdash;Bennett Chapple.</i></p>
+     </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+          <div class="figanchor"><a name="i016" id="i016"></a></div>
+
+          <div class="figcenter" style="width: 255px;">
+            <a href="images/i016h.jpg">
+                <img src="images/i016.jpg" width="255" height="224" alt="" />
+            </a>
+          </div>
+
+          <p class="cption">
+          LINCOLN BY THE CABIN FIRE<br />
+          "Lying down was Lincoln's favorite attitude while reading or studying. This
+          remained a habit with him throughout life."&mdash;<i>Henry C. Whitney in his "Life
+          of Lincoln."</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Noah Davis</span>, born in Haverhill, New Hampshire,
+September 10, 1818. He was educated at Albion,
+New York, and in the Seminary at Lima, studied
+law, and was admitted to the bar in 1841. Appointed in
+March, 1857, a justice of the New York Supreme Court.
+He served in Congress from March 4, 1869, till July
+20, 1870, when he resigned, having been appointed by
+President Grant, U.&nbsp;S. Attorney for the Southern District
+of New York. He resigned that office on Dec. 31,
+1872, being elected justice of the New York State
+Supreme Court. In 1874, he became presiding justice.
+In January, 1887, he was retired from the bench and
+resumed practice. He died in New York in 1902.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="LINCOLN_Davis" id="LINCOLN_Davis">LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Almost</span> a hundred years ago, in a lonely hut,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Of the dark and bloody ground of wild Kentucky,</p>
+         <p class="i0">A child was born to poverty and toil,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Save in the sweet prophecy of mother's love</p>
+         <p class="i0">None dreamed of future fame for him!</p>
+      </div>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">'Mid deep privation and in rugged toil,</p>
+         <p class="i0">He grew unschooled to vigorous youth,</p>
+         <p class="i0">His teaching was an ancient spelling book,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The Holy Writ, "The Pilgrim's Progress,"</p>
+         <p class="i0">Old "&AElig;sop's Fables" and the "Life of Washington";</p>
+         <p class="i0">And out of these, stretched by the hearthstone flame</p>
+         <p class="i0">For lack of other light, he garnered lore</p>
+         <p class="i0">That filled his soul with faith in God.</p>
+      </div>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">The prophet's fire, the psalmist's music deep,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The pilgrims' zeal throughout his steadfast march,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The love of fellow man as taught by Christ,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And all the patriot faith and truth</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">Marked the Father of our Land!</p>
+         <p class="i0">And there, in all his after life, in thought</p>
+         <p class="i0">And speech and act, resonant concords were in his great soul.</p>
+      </div>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">And, God's elect, he calmly rose to awful power,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Restored his mighty land to smiling peace,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Then, with the martyr blood of his own life,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Baptized the millions of the free.</p>
+      </div>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Henceforth, the ages hold his name high writ</p>
+         <p class="i0">And deep on their eternal rolls.</p>
+      </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Rev. George W. Crofts</span> was born at Leroy,
+Illinois, April 9, 1842. He was educated at the
+Illinois State University at Springfield, graduating
+in the class of 1864. He was ordained to the ministry
+in 1865. He preached at Sandwich, Illinois; Council
+Bluffs, Iowa; Beatrice, Nebraska, and West Point. He
+died at West Point, May 16, 1909.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_BIRTH_OF_LINCOLN" id="THE_BIRTH_OF_LINCOLN">THE BIRTH OF LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">No</span> choir celestial sang at Lincoln's birth,</p>
+         <p class="i1">No transient star illumined the midnight sky</p>
+         <p class="i1">In honor of some ancient prophecy,</p>
+         <p class="i0">No augury was given from heaven or earth.</p>
+      </div>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">He blossomed like a flower of wondrous worth,</p>
+         <p class="i1">A rare, sweet flower of heaven that ne'er should die,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Altho' the vase in which it grew should lie</p>
+         <p class="i0">Most rudely rent amid the darkling dearth.</p>
+      </div>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">There, in that humble cabin, separate</p>
+         <p class="i0">From everything the world regarded great,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Where wealth had never pressed its greedy feet,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Where honor, pomp or fame found no retreat;</p>
+         <p class="i0">E'en there was born beneath the eye of God</p>
+         <p class="i0">The noblest man His footstool ever trod.</p>
+      </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i020" id="i020"></a></div>
+
+<table class="fig" summary="Photos">
+      <tr>
+         <td style="width: 110px;">
+               <div class="figcenter" style="width: 85px;">
+                 <a href="images/i020ah.jpg">
+                 <img src="images/i020a.jpg" width="85" height="109" alt="Mendelssohn" />
+                 </a>
+               </div>
+               <p class="cption" style="font-size: 14px;">Mendelssohn</p>
+         </td>
+         <td style="width: 110px;">
+               <div class="figcenter" style="width: 85px;">
+                 <a href="images/i020bh.jpg">
+                 <img src="images/i020b.jpg" width="85" height="109" alt="Darwin" />
+                 </a>
+               </div>
+               <p class="cption" style="font-size: 14px;">Darwin</p>
+         </td>
+         <td style="width: 110px;">
+               <div class="figcenter" style="width: 85px;">
+                 <a href="images/i020ch.jpg">
+                 <img src="images/i020c.jpg" width="85" height="109" alt="Lincoln" />
+                 </a>
+               </div>
+               <p class="cption" style="font-size: 14px;">Lincoln</p>
+         </td>
+      </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="MENDELSSOHN" id="MENDELSSOHN">MENDELSSOHN<br />
+DARWIN<br />
+LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm"><i>February 12, 1809</i></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Clarence E. Carr</span>, born in Enfield, New
+Hampshire, January 31, 1853. Received his
+early education from the common schools and
+academies of the State, later from Dartmouth College,
+from which he graduated in 1875.</p>
+
+<p>Practiced law, was also a manufacturer and farmer.
+Was president of the New Hampshire Unitarian Conference,
+director and vice-president of the American
+Unitarian Association, bank trustee, president of the
+United Life and Accident Insurance Company of
+Concord, New Hampshire, and occasionally a wanderer
+in the Elysian Fields of the Muses.</p>
+
+<p><i>The Three Birthday Anniversaries</i> is the subject of
+a highly appreciative article on the subject of Mendelssohn,
+Darwin and Lincoln, by President Samuel A.
+Eliot of the American Unitarian Association, in the
+<i>Christian Register</i> of February 4, 1909. The central
+thought therein is thus expressed very beautifully by
+Mr. Carr.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Three</span> lives this day unto the world were given</p>
+         <p class="i0">Into whose souls God breathed the air of <span style="white-space: nowrap;">heaven,&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">The first He taught the music of the spheres,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The next, of worlds, the story of the years;</p>
+         <p class="i0">And, loving, wise, and just beyond our dream,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The third a pilot made upon the New World's stream.</p>
+      </div>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Their work is done, but ere they crossed "the portal,"</p>
+         <p class="i0">One, Song; One, Truth; One, Freedom; Made Immortal!</p>
+      </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">James Phinney Baxter</span>, born at Gorham
+Maine, March 23, 1831. Academic education;
+President of Savings Bank; Mayor of Portland,
+six terms, 1893-97&mdash;1904-5. Organized Associated
+Charities and was its first President; built and donated
+to the City of Portland its public library in 1888, and
+to Gorham in 1907; also conveyed to Gorham his family
+mansion for use as a Museum. President Portland
+Public Library, Baxter Library (Gorham), Portland
+Benevolent Society, Overseer of Bowdoin College,
+President Maine Historical Society since 1890, Northeast
+Historical Society since 1899. Author: <i>The Trelawney
+Papers,</i> 1884; <i>The British Invasion From the North,</i>
+1887; <i>Sir Ferdinando Gorges and His Province of
+Maine,</i> 1890; <i>The Pioneers of New France in New
+England,</i> 1894; edited ten volumes of <i>Documentary
+History of Maine,</i> etc.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="THE_NATAL_DAY_OF_LINCOLN" id="THE_NATAL_DAY_OF_LINCOLN">THE NATAL DAY OF LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+        <div class="stanza">
+           <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Son</span> of the Western World! whose heritage</p>
+           <p class="i0">Was the vast prairie and the boundless sky;</p>
+           <p class="i0">Whose callow thoughts with wings untrammeled sought</p>
+           <p class="i0">Free scope for growth denied to Ease and Power,</p>
+           <p class="i0">Naught couldst thou know of place or precedent,</p>
+           <p class="i0">For Freedom's ichor with thy mother's milk</p>
+           <p class="i0">Coursing thy veins, would render thee immune</p>
+           <p class="i0">To Fashion's dictate, or prescriptive creed,</p>
+           <p class="i0">Leaving thy soul unhindered to expand</p>
+           <p class="i0">Like Samuel's in Jehovah's tutelage.</p>
+           <p class="i1">Hail to thy Natal day!</p>
+        </div>
+        <div class="stanza">
+           <p class="i0"><a name="trans22" id="trans22">Like all great souls with vision unobscured</a></p>
+           <p class="i0">Thou wert by Pride unswayed, and so didst tread</p>
+           <p class="i0">The gray and sombre way by Duty marked;</p>
+           <p class="i0">Seeking the springs of Wisdom, unallured</p>
+           <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
+           <p class="i0">By shallower sources which the witless tempt.</p>
+           <p class="i0">Afar o'er arid plains didst thou behold</p>
+           <p class="i0">An empty sky, and mountains desolate</p>
+           <p class="i0">Barring thy way to fairer scenes beyond;</p>
+           <p class="i0">But faith was thine, and patience measureless,</p>
+           <p class="i0">Making thee equal to thy destiny.</p>
+           <p class="i1">Hail to thy Natal day!</p>
+        </div>
+        <div class="stanza">
+           <p class="i0">It summons to our vision all thy life,</p>
+           <p class="i0">Of strenuous toil; the cabin low and rude;</p>
+           <p class="i0">The meagre fare; the blazing logs whose glow</p>
+           <p class="i0">Illumed the pages of inspired bards,</p>
+           <p class="i0">Shakespeare and Bunyan; prophets, priests and seers;</p>
+           <p class="i0">The darkling forest where thy ringing axe</p>
+           <p class="i0">Chimed with the music of the waterfall;</p>
+           <p class="i0">The eager flood bearing thy rugged raft</p>
+           <p class="i0">Swift footed through an ever changing world</p>
+           <p class="i0">Unknown to thee save in remembered dreams.</p>
+           <p class="i1">Hail to thy Natal day!</p>
+        </div>
+        <div class="stanza">
+           <p class="i0">We see thee in the mart where Selfishness</p>
+           <p class="i0">For Fame ephemeral strives, and sordid gain;</p>
+           <p class="i0">Thy ill-requited toil till thou hadst earned</p>
+           <p class="i0">The right to raise thy potent voice within</p>
+           <p class="i0">A nation's forum, facing all the world;</p>
+           <p class="i0">And then, achievement such as few have known,</p>
+           <p class="i0">A mighty people placing in thy hand</p>
+           <p class="i0">A sceptre swaying half a continent,</p>
+           <p class="i0">Making thee peer of kings and potentates;</p>
+           <p class="i0">Aye, greater than them all, whate'er their power.</p>
+           <p class="i1">Hail to thy Natal day!</p>
+        </div>
+        <div class="stanza">
+           <p class="i0">But, lo! the martial camp; the bivouac;</p>
+           <p class="i0">The rude entrenchment;&mdash;the grim fortalice;</p>
+           <p class="i0">The tented field;&mdash;the flaming battle line,</p>
+           <p class="i0">And thy great soul amidst it all unmoved</p>
+           <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
+           <p class="i0">By petty aims, leading with flawless faith</p>
+           <p class="i0">Thy people to a promised land of peace;</p>
+           <p class="i0">And, then, when thou hadst reached the goal of hope,</p>
+           <p class="i0">And the world stood amazed, the heavy crown</p>
+           <p class="i0">Of martyrdom was pressed upon thy brow</p>
+           <p class="i0">And thy immortal course was consummate.</p>
+           <p class="i1">Hail to thy Natal day!</p>
+        </div>
+        <div class="stanza">
+           <p class="i0">In all great souls God sows with generous hand</p>
+           <p class="i0">The seed of martyrdom, for 'twas decreed</p>
+           <p class="i0">In Eden, that alone by sacrifice</p>
+           <p class="i0">Should sons of men the crown immortal win;</p>
+           <p class="i0">And thou, who didst the shining heights attain</p>
+           <p class="i0">Of unsurpassed achievement, didst but pay</p>
+           <p class="i0">The impartial toll of souls like thine required.</p>
+           <p class="i0">And we, who on the narrow marge of Time</p>
+           <p class="i0">Standing wondering, shed no tears, but raise to thee</p>
+           <p class="i0">The p�ans to a martyred hero due,</p>
+           <p class="i1">Hail to thy Natal day.</p>
+        </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i025" id="i025"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 276px;">
+  <a href="images/i025h.jpg">
+      <img src="images/i025.jpg" width="276" height="198" alt="" />
+  </a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">MONUMENT TO THE MOTHER OF LINCOLN</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Nancy Hanks Lincoln</span> died October 5, 1818,
+aged thirty-five years. The design of this
+monument is by Thompson Stickle, and it was
+constructed by J.&nbsp;S. Culver of Springfield, Illinois, and
+dedicated October 2, 1902.</p>
+
+<p>In the construction of the monument in Spencer
+County, Indiana, Mr. Culver used as much of the granite
+as possible from the National Lincoln Monument
+before it was reconstructed.</p>
+
+<p>The face of this block is handsomely hand-carved.
+As the Scroll of Time unrolls, it reveals the name of
+"Nancy Hanks Lincoln." The ivy represents affection
+and the branch of oak nobility.</p>
+
+<p>The public celebration of the centenary of Lincoln's
+birth was held in the town of North Adams, Massachusetts,
+February 12, 1909.</p>
+
+<p>Ex-Senator Thomas F. Cassidy, in his address, said:
+"One hundred years ago today, in Hardin County,
+Kentucky, there was ushered into being the child,
+Abraham Lincoln.</p>
+
+<p>"As God selected Mary, the humble girl of Judea,
+to be the mother of the Saviour of mankind and she
+gave birth to Him in the stable at Bethlehem, so it
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
+was ordained that in the lowly log cabin of the Kentucky
+wilderness, Nancy Hanks should receive into the
+protection of her sheltering arms the child who was
+destined to be the Saviour of the Republic."</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Harriet Monroe</span>, born at Chicago, Illinois,
+December, 23, 1860. Graduated Visitation Academy,
+Georgetown, District Columbia, 1879. In
+December, 1889, was appointed to write text for cantata
+for opening of Chicago Auditorium in March,
+1891. Was requested by Committee on Ceremonies
+of Chicago Exposition to write a poem for the dedication;
+her <i>Columbia Ode</i> was read and sung at the
+dedicatory ceremonies on the 400th anniversary of the
+discovery of America, October 21, 1892. Author of
+<i>Valerie,</i> and other poems, 1892; <i>The Columbia Ode,</i>
+1893; <i>John Wellborn, Poet, A Memoir,</i> 1896; <i>The
+Passing Show&mdash;Modern Plays in Verse,</i> 1903, etc.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="NANCY_HANKS" id="NANCY_HANKS">NANCY HANKS</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+       <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Prairie</span> Child,</p>
+          <p class="i1">Brief as dew,</p>
+          <p class="i0">What winds of wonder</p>
+          <p class="i1">Nourished you?</p>
+       </div>
+       <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">Rolling plain</p>
+          <p class="i1">Of billowy green,</p>
+          <p class="i0">Fair horizons,</p>
+          <p class="i1">Blue, serene.</p>
+       </div>
+       <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">Lofty skies</p>
+          <p class="i1">The slow clouds climb,</p>
+          <p class="i0">Where burning stars</p>
+          <p class="i1">Beat out the time.</p>
+          <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
+       </div>
+       <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">These, and the dreams</p>
+          <p class="i1">Of fathers bold,</p>
+          <p class="i0">Baffled longings</p>
+          <p class="i1">Hopes untold.</p>
+       </div>
+       <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">Gave to you</p>
+          <p class="i1">A heart of fire,</p>
+          <p class="i0">Love like waters,</p>
+          <p class="i1">Brave desire.</p>
+       </div>
+       <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">Ah, when youth's rapture</p>
+          <p class="i1">Went out in pain,</p>
+          <p class="i0">And all seemed over,</p>
+          <p class="i1">Was all in vain?</p>
+       </div>
+       <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">O soul obscure,</p>
+          <p class="i1">Whose wings life bound,</p>
+          <p class="i0">And soft death folded</p>
+          <p class="i1">Under the ground.</p>
+       </div>
+       <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">Wilding lady,</p>
+          <p class="i1">Still and true,</p>
+          <p class="i0">Who gave us Lincoln</p>
+          <p class="i1">And never knew:</p>
+       </div>
+       <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">To you at last</p>
+          <p class="i1">Our praise, our tears,</p>
+          <p class="i0">Love and a song</p>
+          <p class="i1">Through the nation's years.</p>
+       </div>
+       <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">Mother of Lincoln,</p>
+          <p class="i1">Our tears, our praise;</p>
+          <p class="i0">A battle-flag</p>
+          <p class="i1">And the victor's bays!</p>
+       </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i028" id="i028"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 185px;">
+  <a href="images/i028h.jpg">
+      <img src="images/i028.jpg" width="185" height="259" alt="" />
+  </a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">THE RAIL SPLITTER<br />
+From the "Footprints of Abraham Lincoln"</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="LINCOLN_THE_LABORER" id="LINCOLN_THE_LABORER">LINCOLN THE LABORER</a></h3>
+
+<p class="vsm center"><i>From an Horatian Ode by Richard Henry Stoddard</i></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp1"><span class="dcap">A laboring</span> man with horny hands,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Who swung the axe, who tilled the lands,<span style="letter-spacing: 1em;">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">Who shrank from nothing new,</p>
+         <p class="i0">But did as poor men do.</p>
+      </div>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">One of the people. Born to be</p>
+         <p class="i0">Their curious epitome,</p>
+         <p class="i0">To share, yet rise above,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Their shifting hate and love.</p>
+      </div>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Common his mind, it seemed so then,</p>
+         <p class="i0">His thoughts the thoughts of other men,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Plain were his words, and <span style="white-space: nowrap;">poor&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">But now they will endure.</p>
+      </div>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">No hasty fool of stubborn will,</p>
+         <p class="i0">But prudent, cautious, <span style="white-space: nowrap;">still&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">Who, since his work was good,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Would do it as he could.</p>
+      </div>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">No hero, this, of Roman <span style="white-space: nowrap;">mold&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">Nor like our stately sires of old.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Perhaps he was not <span style="white-space: nowrap;">great&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">But he preserved the state.</p>
+      </div>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">O, honest face, which all men knew,</p>
+         <p class="i0">O, tender heart, but known to <span style="white-space: nowrap;">few&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">O, wonder of the age,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Cut off by tragic rage.</p>
+      </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+        <div class="figanchor"><a name="i030" id="i030"></a></div>
+
+        <div class="figcenter" style="width: 254px;">
+          <a href="images/i030h.jpg">
+              <img src="images/i030.jpg" width="254" height="327" alt="" />
+          </a>
+        </div>
+
+        <p class="cption">"THE BOY LINCOLN"<br />By Eastman Johnson</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">James Whitcomb Riley</span> was born in Greenfield,
+Indiana, about 1852. He was engaged in
+various pursuits until 1875, when he began to
+contribute verses of poetry to local papers in the Western
+district which gained wide popularity for him.
+His published works in dialect and his serious poems
+have also proved very popular.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="A_PEACEFUL_LIFE" id="A_PEACEFUL_LIFE">A PEACEFUL LIFE</a></h3>
+
+<p class="vsm center fsmcap">(LINCOLN)</p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp1"><span class="dcap">A peaceful</span> life;&mdash;just toil and <span style="white-space: nowrap;">rest&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i1">All his <span style="white-space: nowrap;">desire;&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">To read the books he liked the best</p>
+      <p class="i1">Beside the cabin fire.</p>
+      <p class="i0">God's word and man's;&mdash;to peer sometimes</p>
+      <p class="i1">Above the page, in smoldering gleams,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And catch, like far heroic rhymes,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The onmarch of his dreams.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">A peaceful life;&mdash;to hear the low</p>
+      <p class="i1">Of pastured herds,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Or woodman's axe that, blow on blow,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Fell sweet as rhythmic words.</p>
+      <p class="i0">And yet there stirred within his breast</p>
+      <p class="i1">A faithful pulse, that, like a roll</p>
+      <p class="i0">Of drums, made high above his rest</p>
+      <p class="i1">A tumult in his soul.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">A peaceful life!&mdash;They hailed him even</p>
+      <p class="i1">As One was hailed</p>
+      <p class="i0">Whose open palms were nailed toward Heaven</p>
+      <p class="i1">When prayers nor aught availed.</p>
+      <p class="i0">And lo, he paid the selfsame price</p>
+      <p class="i1">To lull a nation's awful strife</p>
+      <p class="i0">And will us, through the sacrifice</p>
+      <p class="i1">Of self, his peaceful life.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">William Wilberforce Newton</span>, born
+in Alleghany, Pennsylvania, March, 1836. Was
+graduated at Franklin and Marshall College in
+1853. Studied law, and was admitted to the bar in
+1867. He served as Captain and Assistant Adjutant
+General of U.&nbsp;S. Volunteers in 1861-5; was Editor of
+the <i>Philadelphia Press</i> and President of the "Press"
+Publishing Co., from 1867 till 1878. He is the author
+of <i>Vignettes of Travel</i> and has been largely engaged in
+railway building in Mexico.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="LEADER_OF_HIS_PEOPLE" id="LEADER_OF_HIS_PEOPLE">LEADER OF HIS PEOPLE</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Saw</span> you in his boyhood days</p>
+      <p class="i1">O'er Kentucky's prairies;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Bending to the settler's ways</p>
+      <p class="i0">Yon poor youth whom now we <span style="white-space: nowrap;">praise&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i1">Romance like the fairies?</p>
+      <p class="i0">Hero! Hero! Sent from God!</p>
+      <p class="i1">Leader of his people.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Saw you in the days of youth</p>
+      <p class="i1">By the candle's flaring:</p>
+      <p class="i0">Lincoln searching for the truth,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Splitting rails to gain, forsooth,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Knowledge for the daring?</p>
+      <p class="i0">Hero! Hero! Sent from God!</p>
+      <p class="i1">Leader of his people.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Saw you in his manhood's prime</p>
+      <p class="i1">Like a star resplendent,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Him we praise with measured rhyme</p>
+      <p class="i0">Waiting for the coming time</p>
+      <p class="i1">With a faith transcendent?</p>
+      <p class="i0">Hero! Hero! Sent from God!</p>
+      <p class="i1">Leader of his people.</p>
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Saw you in the hour of strife</p>
+      <p class="i1">When fierce war was raging,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Him who gave the slaves a life</p>
+      <p class="i0">Full and rich with freedom rife,</p>
+      <p class="i1">All his powers engaging?</p>
+      <p class="i0">Hero! Hero! Sent from God!</p>
+      <p class="i1">Leader of his people.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Saw you when the war was done</p>
+      <p class="i1">(Such is Lincoln's story)</p>
+      <p class="i0">Him whose strength the strife had won</p>
+      <p class="i0">Sinking like the setting sun</p>
+      <p class="i1">Crowned with human glory?</p>
+      <p class="i0">Hero! Hero! Sent from God!</p>
+      <p class="i1">Leader of his people.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Saw you in our country's roll</p>
+      <p class="i1">Midst her saints and sages,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Lincoln's name upon the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">scroll&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">Standing at the topmost goal</p>
+      <p class="i1">On the nation's pages?</p>
+      <p class="i0">Hero! Hero! Sent from God!</p>
+      <p class="i1">Leader of his people.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Hero! Yes! We know thy fame;</p>
+      <p class="i1">It will live forever!</p>
+      <p class="i0">Thou to us art still the same;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Great the glory of thy name,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Great thy strong endeavor!</p>
+      <p class="i0">Hero! Hero! Sent from God!</p>
+      <p class="i1">Leader of his people.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+      <div class="figanchor"><a name="i034" id="i034"></a></div>
+
+      <div class="figcenter" style="width: 189px;">
+      <a href="images/i034h.jpg">
+      <img src="images/i034.jpg" width="189" height="235" alt="" />
+      </a>
+      </div>
+
+      <p class="cption">LINCOLN THE LAWYER<br />
+      From an Ambrotype, taken in 1856</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">&ldquo;The</span> charm
+which invested the life on the Eighth
+Circuit in the mind and fancy of Mr. Lincoln yet
+lingered there, even in the most responsible and
+glorious days of his administration; over and over again
+has the great President stolen an hour &hellip; from his
+life of anxious care to live over again those bygone
+exhilarating and halcyon days &hellip; with Sweet
+or <span style="white-space: nowrap;">me."</span>&mdash;Henry C.
+Whitney in his <i>Life of Lincoln.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Wilbur Hazelton Smith</span> was born in the
+town of Mansfield, New York, March 28, 1860.
+His early education was obtained from the
+district school and he began teaching at the age of
+sixteen. After completing an academic course he went
+to Cornell University from which he was graduated
+with the degree of A.B. in 1885.</p>
+
+<p>He at once became a teacher and after a few years
+started the first Current Topic paper in the state, <i>The
+Educator.</i> Later he edited a teachers' paper, <i>The
+World's Review.</i> Perhaps he is best known as publisher
+of the <i>Regents' Review Books</i> used in nearly every school
+in the United States. His death occurred October 19,
+1913.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem35" id="poem35">LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Unlearned</span> in the cant and quip of schools,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Uncouth, if only city ways refine;</p>
+      <p class="i1">Ungodly, if 'tis creeds that make divine;</p>
+      <p class="i0">In station poor, as judged by human rules,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And yet a giant towering o'er them all;</p>
+      <p class="i1">Clean, strong in mind, just, merciful, sublime;</p>
+      <p class="i1">The noblest product of the age and time,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Invoked of God in answer to men's call.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">O simple world, and will you ever learn,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Schools can but guide, they cannot mind create?</p>
+      <p class="i1">'Neath roughest rock the choicest treasures wait;</p>
+      <p class="i0">In meanest forms we priceless gems discern;</p>
+      <p class="i1">Nor time, nor age, condition, rank nor birth,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Can hide the truly noble of the earth.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+      <div class="figanchor"><a name="i036" id="i036"></a></div>
+
+      <div class="figcenter" style="width: 183px;">
+      <a href="images/i036h.jpg">
+      <img src="images/i036.jpg" width="183" height="201" alt="" />
+      </a>
+      </div>
+
+      <p class="cption">LINCOLN'S OFFICE CHAIR</p>
+
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">This chair</span> was used by Mr. Lincoln in his law
+office at Springfield, Illinois, where, before leaving
+for the City of Washington after his election as
+President, he wrote his Inaugural Address and formed
+his Cabinet, frequently conferring with his twenty-year
+law partner, William H. Herndon, on such matters, and
+adopting changes as suggested if he considered them
+advisable. It was presented to O.&nbsp;H. Oldroyd while
+living in the Lincoln Homestead, Springfield, by Mr.
+Herndon, March 18, 1886.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">James Riley</span> was born in the hamlet of Tang, one
+mile from the town of Ballymahon, County Longford,
+Ireland, and two miles from Lissoy, County
+Westmeath, the home of Oliver Goldsmith&mdash;on the road
+between the two&mdash;August 15, 1848. Published <i>Poems,</i>
+1888; <i>Songs of Two Peoples,</i> 1898, and <i>Christy of
+Rathglin,</i> a novel, in 1907. His poem <i>The American
+Flag,</i> has been rated often as the best poem written
+to our banner. Four lines on the loss of the Titanic
+brought from Captain Rostron words in which he said:
+"With such praise one feels on a higher plane, and
+must keep so, to be worthy of continuance."</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem37" id="poem37">LINCOLN IN HIS OFFICE CHAIR</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">High-browed</span>, rugged, and swarthy;</p>
+      <p class="i1">A picture of pain and care;</p>
+      <p class="i0">A lawyer sat with his greatest brief,</p>
+      <p class="i1">High in his office chair.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">His Country was to him client!</p>
+      <p class="i1">Futurity his ward!</p>
+      <p class="i0">And he must plead 'fore Fate's high court,</p>
+      <p class="i1">With prayer, and pen, and sword.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Elected, by his people!</p>
+      <p class="i1">His heart and theirs, one beat!</p>
+      <p class="i0">He sees the storm-clouds gather;</p>
+      <p class="i1">The waves dash at his feet!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Gloom upon land and water!</p>
+      <p class="i1">The Flag no more in the sun!</p>
+      <p class="i0">Lights from the South-line flickering,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And&mdash;dying&mdash;one&mdash;by one!</p>
+      <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">November's winds wild shrieking!</p>
+      <p class="i1">Night&mdash;closed, on a Union rent!</p>
+      <p class="i0">And still the lawyer sat dreaming</p>
+      <p class="i1">Of its once bright firmament.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Then, '61! Dark! Silent!</p>
+      <p class="i1">Only the calling word</p>
+      <p class="i0">Of Anderson at Sumter</p>
+      <p class="i1">The lawyer, writing, heard.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Writing the Message that ever</p>
+      <p class="i1">Shall live in the hearts of men;</p>
+      <p class="i0">With cannon to cannon fronting,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The lawyer held the pen.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Only thinking of Country</p>
+      <p class="i1">And the work that must be done;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Nature made in roughest mold</p>
+      <p class="i1">Her favored, fated son.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">He wrote while the world was waiting</p>
+      <p class="i1">Great Freedom's final test.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Should, or should not Democracy</p>
+      <p class="i1">Be planted in the West?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Should Liberty at last survive</p>
+      <p class="i1">And man look straight on man?</p>
+      <p class="i0">Law, in its round, its strength and might</p>
+      <p class="i1">Be timed unto sense and plan?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">He, in his chair there sitting,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Had all these things for thought.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Now, the Vote unrecognized,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Must battles wild be fought?</p>
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Alone the Chair is standing,</p>
+      <p class="i1">To remind the Land of the time</p>
+      <p class="i0">When the Slaver's heart, all passion,</p>
+      <p class="i1">He planned, and pursued his crime!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">As he rushed Disunion's order,</p>
+      <p class="i1">On, on from State to State!</p>
+      <p class="i0">And the Pen talked loud down the Message,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And bided the Land to wait.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+      <div class="figanchor"><a name="i040" id="i040"></a></div>
+
+      <div class="figcenter" style="width: 256px;">
+      <a href="images/i040h.jpg">
+      <img src="images/i040.jpg" width="256" height="361" alt="" />
+      </a>
+      </div>
+
+      <p class="cption">LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR UNITED STATES SENATOR<br />
+      Photograph from an Ambrotype, by Gilmer, Illinois, 1858</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Elizabeth Porter Gould</span>, born June 8,
+1848, died July 28, 1906. Essayist, lecturer and
+author; an early inspirer of woman's clubs and
+the pioneer of the <i>Current Events</i> and <i>Topics</i> classes
+in Boston and vicinity; an officer in several educational
+societies and honorary member of the Webster Historical
+Society, Castilian Club and other clubs where
+she had read many historical papers of great research
+and given many practical suggestions. Among her
+published works are <i>Gems From Walt Whitman,</i> <i>Anne
+Gilchrist and Walt Whitman,</i> <i>Ezekial Cheever, Schoolmaster,</i>
+<i>John Adams and Daniel Webster as Schoolmasters,</i>
+<i>A Pioneer Doctor,</i> <i>One's Self I Sing</i> and <i>The
+Brownings and America.</i> She had great energy and
+force of character, and a capacity for friendship which
+was a source of great happiness to her and endeared
+her to all.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem41" id="poem41">THE VOICE OF LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">In</span> life's great symphony,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Above the seeming discord and the pain,</p>
+      <p class="i0">A master-voice is ever singing, singing,</p>
+      <p class="i0">The plan of God to men.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">In young America's song,</p>
+      <p class="i0">As threatening tumult pierced the tensioned air,</p>
+      <p class="i0">The voice of Lincoln over all was singing</p>
+      <p class="i0">The love of brother-man.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">And still his voice is heard;</p>
+      <p class="i0">'Twill pierce the din of strife and mystery,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Till master-voices cease their singing, singing,</p>
+      <p class="i0">In life's great symphony.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+      <div class="figanchor"><a name="i042" id="i042"></a></div>
+
+      <div class="figcenter" style="width: 146px;">
+      <a href="images/i042h.jpg">
+      <img src="images/i042.jpg" width="146" height="220" alt="" />
+      </a>
+      </div>
+
+      <p class="cption">LINCOLN AT THE TIME OF DEBATE WITH DOUGLAS<br />
+      From an Ambrotype taken at Beardstown, Ill., 1858</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">His</span> friends advised Lincoln to press his opponent
+on the Dred Scott decision (of the United States
+Supreme Court permitting slavery in the Territories),
+as Douglas would accept it, but argue for
+nullifying it by anti-slavery legislation in the territorial
+assemblies, and this would satisfy the people
+of Illinois, and elect him Senator. "All right," said
+Lincoln, "then that kills him in 1860. I am gunning
+for larger game."</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Elizabeth Stuart Phelps</span> was born in
+Andover, Massachusetts, on August 13, 1844.
+Educated at Andover. Her literary career began
+at the age of thirteen with contributions to the newspapers.
+The earlier years of her life were devoted to
+Christian labors among the poor families in Andover,
+but failing health finally prevented her from carrying
+on her labors along that line, and kept her within her
+study, but her sympathy was always enlisted in the
+reformatory questions of the day. <i>The Gates Ajar</i>
+proved very popular, as did also her many juvenile
+books. She wrote this poem for the Lincoln Memorial
+Album in 1882. She died January 29, 1911.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem43" id="poem43">THE THOUGHTS OF LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> angels of your thoughts are climbing still</p>
+      <p class="i1">The shining ladder of his fame,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And have not reached the top, nor ever will,<span style="letter-spacing: 1em;">&nbsp;</span></p>
+      <p class="i1">While this low life pronounces his high name.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">But yonder, where they dream, or dare, or do,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The "good" or "great" beyond our reach,</p>
+      <p class="i0">To talk of him must make old language new</p>
+      <p class="i1">In heavenly, as it did in human, speech.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+      <div class="figanchor"><a name="i044" id="i044"></a></div>
+
+      <div class="figcenter" style="width: 256px;">
+      <a href="images/i044h.jpg">
+      <img src="images/i044.jpg" width="256" height="312" alt="" />
+      </a>
+      </div>
+
+      <p class="cption">THE LINCOLN LIFE-MASK<br />
+      By Leonard W. Volk</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Mr. Lincoln</span> was engaged in trying a case in the
+United States Court at Chicago, Illinois, in April,
+1860, and Leonard W. Volk, the sculptor, called
+upon him and said: "I would like to have you sit to
+me for your bust." "I will, Mr. Volk," replied Lincoln.
+This was the first time that Lincoln sat to an artist for
+the reproduction of his physique in this manner.
+Previous to this he had posed only for daguerreotypes
+or for photographs.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Richard Watson Gilder</span> was born in Bordentown,
+New Jersey, February 8, 1844, and was
+educated at his father's school. He enlisted in
+Landis' Philadelphia Battery for the emergency call
+in the campaign of 1863, when the Confederate forces
+invaded Pennsylvania. Later he was editor of a number
+of magazines and upon the death of J.&nbsp;G. Holland
+he was made associate editor of the <i>Century.</i> At the
+age of twenty-six he had attained high literary standing.
+His poems are published in five volumes. He rendered
+valuable service in tenement-house reform over the
+country. He died on the 18th day of November, 1909.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem45" id="poem45">ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">This</span> bronze doth keep the very form and mold</p>
+      <p class="i1">Of our great martyr's face. Yes, this is he:</p>
+      <p class="i1">That brow all wisdom, all benignity;</p>
+      <p class="i0">That human, humorous mouth; those cheeks that hold</p>
+      <p class="i0">Like some harsh landscape all the summer's gold;</p>
+      <p class="i1">That spirit fit for sorrow, as the sea</p>
+      <p class="i1">For storms to beat on; the lone agony</p>
+      <p class="i1">Those silent, patient lips too well foretold.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Yes, this is he who ruled a world of men</p>
+      <p class="i1">As might some prophet of the elder <span style="white-space: nowrap;">day&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i1">Brooding above the tempest and the fray</p>
+      <p class="i0">With deep-eyed thought and more than mortal ken.</p>
+      <p class="i1">A power was his beyond the touch of art</p>
+      <p class="i1">Or armed strength&mdash;his pure and mighty heart.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+      <div class="figanchor"><a name="i046" id="i046"></a></div>
+
+      <div class="figcenter" style="width: 184px;">
+      <a href="images/i046h.jpg">
+      <img src="images/i046.jpg" width="184" height="271" alt="" />
+      </a>
+      </div>
+
+      <p class="cption">THE HAND OF LINCOLN</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> Saturday after the nomination of Mr. Lincoln
+for President of the United States, the Committee
+appointed to inform him of the said nomination
+arrived in Springfield and performed this duty in the
+evening at his home.</p>
+
+<p>The cast of his hand was made the next morning by
+Mr. Leonard W. Volk. While the sculptor was making
+the cast of his left hand, Lincoln called his attention to
+a scar on his thumb. "You have heard me called the
+'rail-splitter' haven't you?" he said, "Well, I used to
+split rails when I was a young man, and one day, while
+sharpening a wedge on a log, the axe glanced and nearly
+took off my thumb."</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Edmund Clarence Stedman</span> was born in
+Hartford, Connecticut, on the 8th of October,
+1833. He entered Yale College at the age of sixteen
+and distinguished himself in Greek and English
+Composition. He was the editor of several papers in
+Connecticut and in 1856 removed to New York City&mdash;a
+larger field for his literary abilities. He was a contributor
+to <i>Vanity Fair,</i> <i>Putnam's Monthly,</i> <i>Harper's
+Magazine</i> and other periodicals. His poems: <i>The
+Diamond Wedding,</i> <i>How Old John Brown Took Harper's
+Ferry,</i> <i>The Ballad of Lager-Bier,</i> gave him some reputation.
+He was war-correspondent for the <i>World</i> during
+the early campaigns of the Army of the Potomac from
+the Headquarters of General Irwin McDowell and
+General B. McClellan. He died in 1908.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem47" id="poem47">THE HAND OF LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Look</span> on this cast, and know the hand</p>
+      <p class="i1">That bore a nation in its hold;</p>
+      <p class="i0">From this mute witness understand</p>
+      <p class="i1">What Lincoln was&mdash;how large of mold.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">The man who sped the woodman's team,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And deepest sunk the plowman's share,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And pushed the laden raft astream,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Of fate before him unaware.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">This was the hand that knew to swing</p>
+      <p class="i1">The axe&mdash;since thus would Freedom train</p>
+      <p class="i0">Her son&mdash;and made the forest ring,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And drove the wedge and toiled amain.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Firm hand that loftier office took,</p>
+      <p class="i1">A conscious leader's will obeyed,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And, when men sought his word and look,</p>
+      <p class="i1">With steadfast might the gathering swayed.</p>
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">No courtier's, toying with a sword,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Nor minstrel's, laid across a lute;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Chiefs, uplifted to the Lord</p>
+      <p class="i1">When all the kings of earth are mute!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">The hand of Anak, sinewed strong,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The fingers that on greatness clutch,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Yet lo! the marks their lines along</p>
+      <p class="i1">Of one who strove and suffered much.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">For here in mottled cord and vein</p>
+      <p class="i1">I trace the varying chart of years,</p>
+      <p class="i0">I know the troubled heart, the strain,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The weight of Atlas&mdash;and the tears.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Again I see the patient brow</p>
+      <p class="i1">That palm erewhile was wont to press;</p>
+      <p class="i0">And now 'tis furrowed deep, and now</p>
+      <p class="i1">Made smooth with hope and tenderness.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">For something of a formless grace</p>
+      <p class="i1">This molded outline plays about;</p>
+      <p class="i0">A pitying flame, beyond our trace,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Breathes like a spirit, in and <span style="white-space: nowrap;">out&mdash;</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">The love that casts an aureole</p>
+      <p class="i1">Round one who, longer to endure,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Called mirth to cease his ceaseless dole,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Yet kept his nobler purpose sure.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Lo, as I gaze, the statured man,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Built up from yon large hand, appears;</p>
+      <p class="i0">A type that nature wills to plan</p>
+      <p class="i1">But once in all a people's years.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">What better than this voiceless cast</p>
+      <p class="i1">To tell of such a one as he,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Since through its living semblance passed</p>
+      <p class="i1">The thought that bade a race be free?</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+      <div class="figanchor"><a name="i049" id="i049"></a></div>
+
+      <div class="figcenter" style="width: 254px;">
+      <a href="images/i049h.jpg">
+      <img src="images/i049.jpg" width="254" height="357" alt="" />
+      </a>
+      </div>
+
+      <p class="cption">HON. ABRAHAM LINCOLN, REPUBLICAN CANDIDATE FOR THE PRESIDENCY, 1860<br />
+      Painted by Hicks; lithograph by L. Grozelier; published by W. Schaus, New York,
+      1860; printed by J.&nbsp;H. Bufford, Boston</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+      <div class="figanchor"><a name="i050" id="i050"></a></div>
+
+      <div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;">
+      <a href="images/i050h.jpg">
+      <img src="images/i050.jpg" width="252" height="210" alt="" />
+      </a>
+      </div>
+
+      <p class="cption">THE "WIGWAM"<br />
+      Convention Hall, at Chicago, 1860, in which Lincoln was nominated</p>
+
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> Republicans of Chicago had erected a huge
+temporary building for the use of the Convention.
+The "Wigwam," as it was called, covered a space
+of 600 feet by 180, and the height was between 50 and
+60 feet. The building would hold about 10,000 persons,
+and was divided into platform, ground-floor and
+gallery. The stage upon which the delegates and members
+of the press were seated, held about 1,800 persons;
+the ground-floor and galleries, about 8,000. A
+large gallery was reserved for ladies, which was filled
+every day to overflowing. The Convention met on
+June 16, 1860.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Edmund Clarence Stedman</span> is the author
+of this poem, and it was published in the <i>Press
+and Tribune</i> of Chicago, and in <i>Weekly Illinois State
+Journal,</i> June 13, 1860. It was sung to the air of the
+"Star Spangled Banner" throughout the campaign.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem51" id="poem51">HONEST ABE OF THE WEST</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp1"><span class="dcap">O Hark</span>! from the pine-crested hills of old Maine,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Where the splendor first falls from the wings of the morning,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And away in the West, over river and plain,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Rings out the grand anthem of Liberty's warning!</p>
+      <p class="i0">From green-rolling prairie it swells to the sea,</p>
+      <p class="i0">For the people have risen, victorious and free,</p>
+      <p class="i0">They have chosen their leaders, and bravest and best</p>
+      <p class="i0">Of them all is Old Abe, Honest Abe of the West!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">The spirit that fought for the patriots of old</p>
+      <p class="i1">Has swept through the land and aroused us forever;</p>
+      <p class="i0">In the pure air of heaven a standard unfold</p>
+      <p class="i1">Fit to marshal us on to the sacred endeavor!</p>
+      <p class="i0">Proudly the banner of freemen we bear;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Noble the hopes that encircle it there!</p>
+      <p class="i0">And where battle is thickest we follow the crest</p>
+      <p class="i0">Of gallant Old Abe, Honest Abe of the West!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">There's a triumph in urging a glorious cause,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Though the hosts of the foe for a while may be stronger,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Pushing on for just rules and holier laws,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Till their lessening columns oppose us no longer.</p>
+      <p class="i0">But ours the loud p�an of men who have passed</p>
+      <p class="i0">Through the struggles of years, and are victors at last;</p>
+      <p class="i0">So forward the flag! Leave to Heaven the rest,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And trust in Old Abe, Honest Abe of the West!</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+      <div class="figanchor"><a name="i052" id="i052"></a></div>
+
+      <div class="figcenter" style="width: 256px;">
+      <a href="images/i052h.jpg">
+      <img src="images/i052.jpg" width="256" height="371" alt="" />
+      </a>
+      </div>
+
+      <p class="cption">LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT<br />
+      From an Ambrotype taken at Springfield, Illinois, August 13, 1860</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">William Henry Burleigh</span>, born at Woodstock,
+Connecticut, February 2, 1812. In early
+manhood became an advocate of reforms then
+unpopular, and an acceptable lecturer on behalf of
+temperance and the anti-slavery cause. He removed
+to Pittsburgh in 1837, where he published the <i>Christian
+Witness,</i> and afterwards the <i>Temperance Banner.</i> As
+a writer, speaker, editor, poet, reformer, friend and
+associate, it was the universal testimony of those who
+knew him best and esteemed him most truly, that he
+stood in the forefront of his generation. His poetry,
+animated by deep love of nature and a profound desire
+to uphold truth and justice, gives him a place with our
+first minor poets.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem53" id="poem53">PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN, 1860</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Up</span> again for the conflict! Our banner fling out,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And rally around it with song and with shout!</p>
+      <p class="i0">Stout of heart, firm of hand, should the gallant boys be,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Who bear to the battle the Flag of the Free!</p>
+      <p class="i0">Like our fathers, when Liberty called to the strife,</p>
+      <p class="i0">They should pledge to her cause fortune, honor, and life!</p>
+      <p class="i0">And follow wherever she beckons them on,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Till Freedom results in a victory won!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">They came from the hillside, they came from the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">glen&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">From the streets thronged with traffic and surging with men,</p>
+      <p class="i0">From loom and from ledger, from workshop and farm,</p>
+      <p class="i0">The fearless of heart, and the mighty of arm.</p>
+      <p class="i0">As the mountain-born torrents exultingly leap</p>
+      <p class="i0">When their ice-fetters melt, to the breast of the deep;</p>
+      <p class="i0">As the winds of the prairie, the waves of the sea,</p>
+      <p class="i0">They are coming&mdash;are coming&mdash;the Sons of the Free!</p>
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Our Leader is one who, with conquerless will,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Has climbed from the base to the brow of the hill;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Undaunted in peril, unwavering in strife,</p>
+      <p class="i0">He has fought a good fight in the Battle of Life,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And we trust as one who&mdash;come woe or come weal,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Is as firm as the rock and as true as the steel.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Right loyal and brave, with no stain on his breast,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Then, hurrah, boys, for honest "Old Abe of the West!"</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i055" id="i055"></a></div>
+
+      <div class="figcenter" style="width: 230px;">
+      <a href="images/i055h.jpg">
+      <img src="images/i055.jpg" width="230" height="328" alt="" />
+      </a>
+      </div>
+
+      <p class="cption">"HONEST ABE"<br />
+      A Campaign Cartoon of 1860</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Madison Cawein</span> was born at Louisville, Kentucky,
+on the 23rd of March, 1865. Was educated
+in the city and country schools about
+Louisville and New Albany, Indiana. Graduated from
+the Male High School, Louisville, in 1886, and the following
+year published his first volume, called <i>Blooms
+of the Berry.</i> Since then he published some thirty-odd
+volumes of prose and poetry, both in the United States
+and England. He died in 1915.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="poem56" id="poem56">LINCOLN, 1809&mdash;FEBRUARY 12, 1909</a></h3>
+
+<p class="vsm center"><i>Read for the first time at the Lincoln centenary celebration,
+Temple Adath Israel, Louisville, Ky.</i></p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Yea</span>, this is he, whose name is synonym</p>
+      <p class="i0">Of all that's noble, though but lowly born;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Who took command upon a stormy morn</p>
+      <p class="i0">When few had hope. Although uncouth of limb,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Homely of face and gaunt, but never grim,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Beautiful he was with that which none may <span style="white-space: nowrap;">scorn&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">With love of God and man and things forlorn,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And freedom mighty as the soul in him.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Large at the helm of state he leans and looms</p>
+      <p class="i0">With the grave, kindly look of those who die</p>
+      <p class="i0">Doing their duty. Stanch, unswervingly</p>
+      <p class="i0">Onward he steers beneath portentous glooms,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And overwhelming thunders of the sky,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Till, safe in port, he sees a people free.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Safe from the storm; the harbor-lights of Peace</p>
+      <p class="i0">Before his eyes; the burden of dark fears</p>
+      <p class="i0">Cast from him like a cloak; and in his ears</p>
+      <p class="i0">The heart-beat music of a great release;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Captain and pilot, back upon the seas,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Whose wrath he'd weathered, back he looks with tears,</p>
+      <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
+      <p class="i0">Seeing no shadow of the Death that nears,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Stealthy and sure, with sudden agonies.</p>
+      <p class="i0">So let him stand, brother to every man,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Ready for toil or battle; he who held</p>
+      <p class="i0">A Nation's destinies within his hand;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Type of our greatness; first American,</p>
+      <p class="i0">By whom the hearts of all men are compelled,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And with whose name Freedom unites our land.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">He needs no praise of us, who wrought so well,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Who has the Master's praise; who at his post</p>
+      <p class="i0">Stood to the last. Yet, now, from coast to coast,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Let memory of him peal like some great bell,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Of him as woodsman, workman, let it tell!</p>
+      <p class="i0">Of him as lawyer, statesman, without boast!</p>
+      <p class="i0">And for what qualities we love him most,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And recollections that no time can quell.</p>
+      <p class="i0">He needs no praise of us, yet let us praise,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Albeit his simple soul we may offend,</p>
+      <p class="i0">That liked not praise, being most diffident;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Still let us praise him, praise him in such ways</p>
+      <p class="i0">As his were, and in words that shall transcend</p>
+      <p class="i0">Marble, and outlast any monument.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i058" id="i058"></a></div>
+
+      <div class="figcenter" style="width: 254px;">
+      <a href="images/i058h.jpg">
+      <img src="images/i058.jpg" width="254" height="374" alt="" />
+      </a>
+      </div>
+
+      <p class="cption">LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT<br />
+      Photograph by Hesler, Chicago, Illinois, 1860</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Isaac Bassett Choate</span>, born at South Otis
+Field, Maine, July 12, 1833. Bachelor of Arts, Bowdoin
+College, 1862. Author of <i>Wild Birds and Flowers,</i>
+1895; <i>Wells of English,</i> 1892; <i>Obeyed the Camel
+Driver,</i> 1899; <i>Apollo's Guest,</i> 1907.</p>
+
+<p>By special invitation from the faculty of the Alumni
+Association of said College he read the following poem
+at their annual banquet held on the centenary of
+Lincoln's birth, 1909:</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem59" id="poem59">THE MATCHLESS LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">From</span> out the ranks of common men he <span style="white-space: nowrap;">rose&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p>Himself of common elements, yet <span style="white-space: nowrap;">fine&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p>As in a wood of different species grows</p>
+      <p class="i1">Above all other trees the lordly pine,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Upon whose branches rest the winter snows,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Upon whose head warm beams of summer shine;</p>
+      <p class="i0">His was the heart to feel the people's woes</p>
+      <p class="i1">And his the hand to hold the builder's line;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Strong, patient, wise and great,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Born ruler of the State.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Among a mountain group one sovereign peak</p>
+      <p class="i1">Will tower aloft unto commanding height</p>
+      <p class="i0">As if more distant view abroad to <span style="white-space: nowrap;">seek&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i1">First one to hail, last one to speed the light;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Those granite sides will snows of winter streak</p>
+      <p class="i1">E'en in the summer with their purest <span style="white-space: nowrap;">white;&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">Silent, serene, that summit yet will speak</p>
+      <p class="i1">Of loftiest grandeur to the enraptured sight;</p>
+      <p class="i0">So Lincoln's greatness shone</p>
+      <p class="i1">Supreme, unmatched, alone.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i060" id="i060"></a></div>
+
+      <div class="figcenter" style="width: 168px;">
+      <a href="images/i060h.jpg">
+      <img src="images/i060.jpg" width="168" height="237" alt="" />
+      </a>
+      </div>
+
+      <p class="cption">LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT<br />
+      Photograph, Springfield, Ill., 1860</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Charlotte Becker</span> was born and has always
+lived in Buffalo, New York. She was educated
+in private schools and in Europe, and has written
+poems for <i>Harper's Magazine,</i> <i>The Metropolitan,</i> <i>The
+American,</i> <i>Life,</i> etc., besides a number of songs which
+have been set to music by Amy Woodfords-Finden,
+C.&nbsp;B. Hawley, Whitney Coombs and others.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem61" id="poem61">LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Gaunt</span>, rough-hewn face, that bore the furrowed signs</p>
+      <p class="i1">Of days of conflict, nights of agony,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And still could soften to the gentler lines</p>
+      <p class="i1">Of one whose tenderness and truth went free</p>
+      <p class="i0">Beyond the pale of any small confines</p>
+      <p class="i1">To understand and help humanity.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Wise, steadfast mind, that grasped a people's need,<span style="letter-spacing: 1em;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></p>
+      <p class="i1">Counting nor pain nor sacrifice too great</p>
+      <p class="i0">To keep the noble purpose of his creed</p>
+      <p class="i1">Strong against all buffeting of Fate,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Though no least solace sprang of work or deed</p>
+      <p class="i1">For him, since triumph came at last&mdash;too late.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Brave, weary heart, that beat uncomforted</p>
+      <p class="i1">Beneath its heavy load of grief and care;</p>
+      <p class="i0">That tears of blood for every battle shed,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Yet called on mirth to help his comrades bear</p>
+      <p class="i0">The waiting hours of anguish, and that sped</p>
+      <p class="i1">With loyal haste each breath of balm to share.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Only his people's griefs were his; no part</p>
+      <p class="i1">Had he within their joy; nor his the toll</p>
+      <p class="i0">To know the love that made rebellion start,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Spurred hosts unnumbered to a higher goal;</p>
+      <p class="i0">That his great soul should cleanse a nation's heart,</p>
+      <p class="i1">His martyred heart awake a nation's soul.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i062" id="i062"></a></div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 367px;">
+<a href="images/i062h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i062.jpg" width="367" height="254" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">CABIN OF LINCOLN'S PARENTS<br />
+on Goose-Nest Prairie, Illinois</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> last home of the parents of Lincoln. Built by
+his father, Thomas, in 1831, near Farmington,
+Coles Co., Ill. The father died here in 1851 and
+the step-mother, Sarah Bush Lincoln, in 1869. After
+Lincoln was elected President in 1860, and before leaving
+for Washington to be inaugurated, he visited his
+mother in this cabin for the last time. As he was
+leaving her, she made a prediction of his tragic death.
+With arms about his neck, with tears streaming down
+her cheeks, she declared it was the last time she would
+ever see him alive, and it proved to be so.</p>
+
+<p>Lincoln once said, "I was told that I never would
+make a lawyer if I did not understand what 'demonstrate'
+means. I left my situation in Springfield, went
+to my father's house, and stayed there till I could give
+any proposition in the six books of Euclid at sight. I
+there found out what demonstrate means."</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i064" id="i064"></a></div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 255px;">
+<a href="images/i064h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i064.jpg" width="255" height="184" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">LINCOLN HOMESTEAD, SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">On</span> Monday, February 11, 1861, Mr. Lincoln and
+family in company with a party left Springfield,
+Illinois, for Washington, D.&nbsp;C. A light rain mixed
+with snow was falling at the time which made the occasion
+a somewhat gloomy one. Mr. Lincoln appeared
+on the rear platform of the car where he bade farewell
+to his neighbors in the following address:</p>
+
+<p>"My friends, no one not in my position can appreciate
+the sadness I feel at this parting. To this
+people I owe all that I am. Here I have lived more than
+a quarter of a century. Here my children were born, and
+here one of them lies buried.</p>
+
+<p>"I know not how soon I shall see you again. A duty
+devolves upon me which is greater, perhaps, than that
+which has devolved upon any other man since the days
+of Washington. He never would have succeeded except
+for the aid of divine Providence, upon which he at all
+times relied.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel that I cannot succeed without the same divine
+aid which sustained him; and on the same Almighty
+Being I place my reliance for support, and I hope you,
+my friends, will pray that I may receive the divine
+assistance, without which I cannot succeed, but with
+which success is certain. Again, I bid you an affectionate
+farewell."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lincoln thought that there is a time to joke and
+pray; and if, as his detractors affirm, he joked all the
+way to Washington, if he did not pray also (as we believe
+he did, and fervently, too) he at least desired the
+prayers of others, as the circumstances recorded in the
+following poem will show. It is from the pen of a lady
+of Philadelphia, Mrs. Anna Bache.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem66" id="poem66">LINCOLN AT SPRINGFIELD, 1861</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">&ldquo;My</span> friends,&mdash;elected by your choice,</p>
+      <p class="i0">From the long-cherished home I go,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Endeared by Heaven-permitted joys,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Sacred by Heaven-permitted woe,</p>
+      <p class="i0">I go, to take the helm of State,</p>
+      <p class="i0">While loud the waves of faction roar,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And by His aid, supremely great,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Upon whose will all tempests wait,</p>
+      <p class="i1">I hope to steer the bark to shore.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Not since the days when Washington</p>
+      <p class="i0">To battle led our patriots on,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Have clouds so dark above us met,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Have dangers dire so close beset.</p>
+      <p class="i0">And <i>he</i> had never saved the land</p>
+      <p class="i0">By deeds in human wisdom planned,</p>
+      <p class="i0">But that with Christian faith he sought</p>
+      <p class="i0">Guidance and blessing, where he ought.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Like him, I seek for aid divine,</p>
+      <p class="i0">His faith, his hope, his trust, are mine.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Pray for me, friends, that God may make</p>
+      <p class="i1">My judgment clear, my duty plain;</p>
+      <p class="i0">For if the Lord no wardship take,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The watchmen mount the towers in vain."</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">He ceased; and many a manly breast</p>
+      <p class="i1">Panted with strong emotion's swell,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And many a lip the sob suppressed,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And tears from manly eyelids fell.</p>
+      <p class="i0">And hats came off, and heads were bowed,</p>
+      <p class="i1">As Lincoln slowly moved away;</p>
+      <p class="i0">And then, heart-spoken, from the crowd,</p>
+      <p class="i1">In accents earnest, clear, and loud,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Came one brief sentence, "We <i>will</i> pray!"</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i067" id="i067"></a></div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 231px;">
+<a href="images/i067h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i067.jpg" width="231" height="260" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND HIS SECRETARIES, JOHN G. NICOLAY AND JOHN HAY<br />
+Photographed at Springfield, Illinois, in 1861</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">On</span> the 22nd of February, 1861, Washington's birthday,
+on his journey to Washington, to assume the
+Presidency, Mr. Lincoln raised a new flag over Independence
+Hall, then went inside and spoke as <span style="white-space: nowrap;">follows:&mdash;</span></p>
+
+<p>"I am filled with deep emotion at finding myself
+standing in this place, where were collected together
+the wisdom, the patriotism, the devotion to principle
+from which sprang the institutions under which we
+live. You have kindly suggested to me that in my hands
+is the task of restoring peace to our distracted country.
+I can say in return, sirs, that all the political sentiments
+I entertain have been drawn, so far as I have been able
+to draw them, from the sentiments which originated
+in and were given to the world from this hall. I have
+never had a feeling, politically, that did not spring
+from the sentiments embodied in the Declaration of
+Independence. I have often pondered over the dangers
+which were incurred by the men who assembled here
+and framed and adopted that Declaration. I have
+pondered over the toils that were endured by the officers
+and soldiers of the army who achieved that independence.
+I have often inquired of myself what great principle
+or idea it was that kept this Confederacy so long
+together. It was not the mere matter of separation of
+the colonies from the motherland, but that sentiment
+in the Declaration of Independence which gave liberty,
+not alone to the people of this country, but hope to all
+the world, for all future time. It was that which gave
+promise that in due time the weight would be lifted
+from the shoulders of all men and that all should have
+an equal chance. This is the sentiment embodied in
+the Declaration of Independence.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, my friends, can this country be saved on that
+basis? If it can, I will consider myself one of the happiest
+men in the world if I can help to save it. But if
+this country cannot be saved without giving up that
+principle, I was about to say I would rather be assassinated
+on this spot than surrender it."</p>
+
+<p>Four years and two months later, April 22, 1865,
+his body lay, assassinated, on the very spot where he
+had made the above remarks, then being taken to
+Springfield, Illinois, for burial.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i069" id="i069"></a></div>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+  <a href="images/i069h.jpg">
+      <img src="images/i069.jpg" width="400" height="253" alt="" />
+  </a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">INDEPENDENCE HALL, PHILADELPHIA</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Henry Wilson Clendenin</span>, born at Schellsburg,
+Pennsylvania, August 1, 1837; educated in
+private schools and by tutors. Married Mary E.
+Morey of Monmouth, Illinois, October 23, 1877; to them
+were born five children, four of whom survive: George
+M., manager <i>Illinois State Register;</i> Clarence R., Deputy
+Internal Revenue Collector, Springfield, Illinois; Harry
+F., proofreader, <i>Illinois State Register,</i> and Marie,
+Assistant Instructor Physical Education, State Normal
+University, Normal, Illinois. He was a private of Company
+I, Twentieth Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, in
+the Civil War. Began newspaper work on <i>Burlington
+<span class="nonital">(Iowa)</span> Hawkeye.</i> Afterwards telegraph editor <i>Peoria
+Transcript,</i> 1858; telegraph editor <i>Burlington Gazette,</i>
+1863, and editor and proprietor, <i>Keokuk Daily Constitution,</i>
+1876-1881; since that year was editor and
+president of the <i>Illinois State Register.</i> Postmaster,
+Springfield 1886-90. Member Illinois State Historical
+Society, The Jefferson Association, Grand Army of the
+Republic and Sons of the American Revolution. Director
+of Lincoln Library at Springfield, Illinois, for ten
+years. Member of the First Congregational Church of
+that city.</p>
+
+<p>This sonnet was written by Mr. Clendenin, in Philadelphia,
+February 22, 1861, after witnessing Lincoln
+hoist the flag over Independence Hall.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem70" id="poem70">LINCOLN CALLED TO THE PRESIDENCY</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Hark</span> to the sound that speedeth o'er the land!</p>
+      <p class="i0">Behold the sword in fratricidal hand!</p>
+      <p class="i0">'Tis duty calls thee, Lincoln, and thy trust</p>
+      <p class="i0">Demands that all thy acts be wise and just.<span style="letter-spacing: 1em;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">No idle task to thee has been assigned,</p>
+      <p class="i0">But work that's worthy of a giant <span style="white-space: nowrap;">mind&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">And on the issue hangs the nation's fame</p>
+      <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>
+      <p class="i0">As a free people who deserve the name.</p>
+      <p class="i0">So, walk thou in the way the fathers trod;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Be true to freedom, country, and to God;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Then truth will triumph, treason be undone,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And thou be hailed the second Washington.</p>
+      <p class="i0">The first, the Father of his country&mdash;thou,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Its Saviour. Bind the laurel on thy brow.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i071" id="i071"></a></div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 151px;">
+<a href="images/i071h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i071.jpg" width="151" height="228" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">LINCOLN IN 1858<br />
+From a photograph by S.&nbsp;M. Fassett of Chicago</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">An</span> act of Congress July 9, 1790, established the
+District of Columbia as the National Capital,
+and provided that prior to the first Monday of
+December, 1800, the Commissioners should have finished
+a suitable building for the sessions of Congress.
+The site of the Capitol was included in L'Enfant's plan
+for the city. The cornerstone was laid September 18,
+1793, with Masonic rites, George Washington officiating.
+The wings of the central building were completed in
+1811, and were partially burned by the British, in 1814.
+The entire central building was finished in 1827. The
+cornerstone of the extension was laid by President
+Fillmore, July 4, 1851. The extensions were first occupied
+by Congress 1857 and 1859. Up to that time the
+Senate Chamber was the present Supreme Court Room,
+and the Hall of Representatives was the present
+National Statuary Hall. The dome was finished during
+the administration of President Lincoln. The total cost
+of the Capitol building and grounds was about thirty
+million dollars. The remains of President Lincoln were
+escorted from the White House to the Capitol at three
+o'clock <span class="smcap">P.M.</span>, on the 19th of April, 1865. The number
+in the procession was estimated at forty thousand, and
+that many more were spectators along the route. The
+burial service was conducted by Dr. Gurley. The special
+train bearing the remains left at 8 <span class="smcap">A.M.</span>, Friday,
+April 21, for Springfield, Illinois, stopping at Baltimore,
+Maryland; Harrisburg and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania;
+Albany and Buffalo, New York; Cleveland and Columbus,
+Ohio; Indianapolis, Indiana; Chicago, Illinois,
+reaching Springfield, Illinois, the 3d of May, and was
+buried the following day. The body lay in state in
+all of the above cities.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i073" id="i073"></a></div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 387px;">
+<a href="images/i073h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i073.jpg" width="387" height="255" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">THE CAPITOL<br />
+The Second Inauguration of Abraham Lincoln as President of the United States, in front of the Capitol,
+Washington, March 4, 1865</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Edwin Markham</span>, born at Oregon City, Oregon,
+April 23, 1852; settled in California in 1857, and
+worked there during his boyhood, principally as a
+blacksmith. Worked his way through the San Jose
+Normal School and Santa Rosa College. Became a
+writer of stories and verse for papers and magazines,
+and principal and superintendent of California schools.
+Was the author of <i>The Man With the Hoe, and Other
+Poems</i> (1899); <i>The Man With the Hoe, with Notes
+by the Author</i> (1900); <i>The End of the Century</i> (1899);
+<i>Lincoln, the Great Commoner</i> (1900); <i>The Mighty
+Hundred Years; Lincoln and Other Poems</i> (1901); <i>The
+Shoes of Happiness</i> (1915). His <i>Man With the Hoe</i>
+was extensively republished and gave him wide fame.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem74" id="poem74">LINCOLN THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">When</span> the Norn-Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Greatening and darkening as it hurried on,</p>
+      <p class="i0">She bent the strenuous Heavens and came down</p>
+      <p class="i0">To make a man to meet the mortal need.</p>
+      <p class="i0">She took the tried clay of the common <span style="white-space: nowrap;">road&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">Clay warm yet with the genial heat of Earth,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Dashed through it all a strain of prophecy;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff.</p>
+      <p class="i0">It was a stuff to wear for centuries,</p>
+      <p class="i0">A man that matched the mountains, and compelled<span style="letter-spacing: 1em;">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">The stars to look our way and honor us.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">The color of the ground was in him, the red earth;</p>
+      <p class="i0">The tang and odor of the primal <span style="white-space: nowrap;">things&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">The rectitude and patience of the rocks;</p>
+      <p class="i0">The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn;</p>
+      <p class="i0">The courage of the bird that dares the sea;</p>
+      <p class="i0">The justice of the rain that loves all leaves;</p>
+      <p class="i0">The pity of snow that hides all scars;</p>
+      <p class="i0">The loving-kindness of the wayside well;<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>
+      <p class="i0">The tolerance and equity of light</p>
+      <p class="i0">That gives as freely to the shrinking weed</p>
+      <p class="i0">As to the great oak flaring to the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">wind&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">To the grave's low hill as to the Matterhorn</p>
+      <p class="i0">That shoulders out the sky.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">And so he came.</p>
+      <p class="i0">From prairie cabin up to Capitol,</p>
+      <p class="i0">One fair ideal led our chieftain on.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Forevermore he burned to do his deed</p>
+      <p class="i0">With the fine stroke and gesture of a king.</p>
+      <p class="i0">He built the rail pile as he built the State,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Pouring his splendid strength through every blow,</p>
+      <p class="i0">The conscience of him testing every stroke,</p>
+      <p class="i0">To make his deed the measure of a man.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">So came the Captain with the mighty heart;</p>
+      <p class="i0">And when the step of earthquake shook the house,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Wresting the rafters from their ancient hold,</p>
+      <p class="i0">He held the ridge-pole up and spiked again</p>
+      <p class="i0">The rafters of the Home. He held his <span style="white-space: nowrap;">place&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">Held the long purpose like a growing <span style="white-space: nowrap;">tree&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">Held on through blame and faltered not at praise,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And when he fell, in whirlwind, he went down</p>
+      <p class="i0">As when a kingly cedar, green with boughs,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Goes down with a great shout upon the hills,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And leaves a lonesome place against the sky.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i076" id="i076"></a></div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 219px;">
+<a href="images/i076h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i076.jpg" width="219" height="143" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">THE WHITE HOUSE</p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> corner-stone was laid by George Washington
+on the 13th of October, 1792. The mansion was
+first occupied by President John Adams in the
+year 1800, also by every succeeding President. British
+troops burned it in 1814, in President Madison's term.
+It was the first public building erected in Washington.
+It is constructed of Virginia freestone, and is 170 feet
+in length, 80 feet in depth, and consists of a rustic
+basement, two stories and an attic.</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">John Vance Cheney</span>, born Groveland, New
+York, December 29, 1848. Graduated Temple
+Hill Academy, Genesee, New York, at seventeen.
+Assistant principal there two years later. Practiced
+law, New York, 1875-6; librarian Free Public Library,
+San Francisco, 1887-94; Newberry Library, Chicago,
+1894-1909; author, <i>The Old Doctor,</i> 1881; and a number
+of poems, 1887-1911.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem77" id="poem77">LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> hour was on us; where the man?</p>
+      <p class="i0">The fateful sands unfaltering ran,<span style="letter-spacing: 1em;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></p>
+      <p class="i1">And up the way of tears</p>
+      <p class="i1">He came into the years.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Our pastoral captain. Forth he came,</p>
+      <p class="i0">As one that answers to his name;</p>
+      <p class="i1">Nor dreamed how high his charge,</p>
+      <p class="i1">His work how fair and large,</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">To set the stones back in the wall</p>
+      <p class="i0">Lest the divided house should fall,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And peace from men depart,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Hope and the childlike heart.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">We looked on him; "'Tis he," we said,</p>
+      <p class="i0">"Come crownless and unheralded,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The shepherd who will keep</p>
+      <p class="i1">The flocks, will fold the sheep."</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Unknightly, yes: yet 'twas the mien</p>
+      <p class="i0">Presaging the immortal scene,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Some battles of His wars</p>
+      <p class="i1">Who sealeth up the stars.</p>
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Not he would take the past between</p>
+      <p class="i0">His hands, wipe valor's tablets clean,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Commanding greatness wait</p>
+      <p class="i1">Till he stands at the gate;</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Not he would cramp to one small head</p>
+      <p class="i0">The awful laurels of the dead,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Time's mighty vintage cup,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And drink all honor up.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">No flutter of the banners bold</p>
+      <p class="i0">Borne by the lusty sons of old,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The haughty conquerors</p>
+      <p class="i1">Set forward to their wars;</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Not his their blare, their pageantries,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Their goal, their glory, was not his;</p>
+      <p class="i1">Humbly he came to keep</p>
+      <p class="i1">The flocks, to fold the sheep.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">The need comes not without the man;</p>
+      <p class="i0">The prescient hours unceasing ran,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And up the way of tears</p>
+      <p class="i1">He came into the years.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Our pastoral captain, skilled to crook</p>
+      <p class="i0">The spear into the pruning hook,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The simple, kindly man,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Lincoln, American.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i079" id="i079"></a></div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
+<a href="images/i079h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i079.jpg" width="150" height="309" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">WHERE LINCOLN WORSHIPPED<br />
+New York Avenue Presbyterian Church, Washington, D.&nbsp;C.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">President Lincoln</span> and family attended this
+church during his Administration. The pew that
+they occupied is still preserved in its black walnut
+trimmings, though the rest of the sanctuary has been
+refurnished.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Lyman Whitney Allen</span>, born at St. Louis,
+November 19, 1854. Bachelor of Arts, Washington
+University, St. Louis, 1878; later Master of Arts,
+Princeton Theological, 1878-80; Post-graduate studies
+at Princeton University; (D.D., University of Wooster,
+1897). Ordained Presbyterian Minister, 1882; stated
+supply Kimmswick, Missouri, 1881-3; DeSoto, Missouri,
+1883-5; Pastor-elect Carondelet Church, St. Louis,
+Missouri, 1885-9; Pastor South Park Church, Newark,
+New Jersey, since 1889. Director Board of Home
+Missions, Presbyterian; Chaplain New Jersey Society
+D.&nbsp;A.&nbsp;R.; Member Society American Authors; New
+Jersey Society S.&nbsp;A.&nbsp;R. Club, Princeton (New York).
+Has written many poems and articles, including the
+New York <i>Herald's</i> $1,000 prize poem which was
+published in 1895.</p>
+
+<p>Rev. Dr. Lyman Whitney Allen of Newark, New
+Jersey, had for his guest Chief Justice Wendell Phillips
+Stafford of the Supreme Court of the District of Columbia.
+Judge Stafford addressed the Men's Club of Dr.
+Allen's church one evening, and next day, in company
+with his host, visited the Lincoln statue on the court-house
+plaza. On the train that bore him back to
+Washington that day, Judge Stafford wrote the poem
+on the Statue. (See <a href="#Page_236">page 236</a>).</p>
+
+<p>A few weeks thereafter Dr. Allen visited his friend,
+the judge, in Washington, and they made a little pilgrimage
+to the New York Avenue Presbyterian church.
+In the Lincoln pew Dr. Allen sat and meditated, and on
+his way back he wrote the verses.</p>
+
+<p>"I had seen the Lincoln statue many times," says Dr.
+Allen, "but, somehow, I could not get started on the
+poem I knew could be written around it." And Judge
+Stafford wrote to his friend in Newark: "I had seen
+the Lincoln pew a score of times without poetic result,
+yet you come on a one-day visit and carry away the
+inspiration needed."</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem81" id="poem81">LINCOLN'S CHURCH IN WASHINGTON</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Within</span> the historic church both eye and soul</p>
+      <p class="i0">Perceived it. 'Twas the pew where Lincoln <span style="white-space: nowrap;">sat&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">The only Lincoln God hath given to <span style="white-space: nowrap;">men&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">Olden among the modern seats of prayer,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Dark like the 'sixties, place and past akin.</p>
+      <p class="i0">All else has changed, but this remains the same,</p>
+      <p class="i0">A sanctuary in a sanctuary.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Where Lincoln prayed! What passion had his <span style="white-space: nowrap;">soul&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">Mixt faith and anguish melting into prayer</p>
+      <p class="i0">Upon the burning altar of God's fane,</p>
+      <p class="i0">A nation's altar even as his own.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Where Lincoln prayed! Such worshipers as he</p>
+      <p class="i0">Make thin ranks down the ages. Wouldst thou know</p>
+      <p class="i0">His spirit suppliant? Then must thou feel</p>
+      <p class="i0">War's fiery baptism, taste hate's bitter cup,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Spend similar sweat of blood vicarious,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And sound the cry, "If it be possible!"</p>
+      <p class="i0">From stricken heart in new Gethsemane.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Who saw him there are gone, as he is gone;</p>
+      <p class="i0">The pew remains, with what God gave him there,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And all the world through him. So let it <span style="white-space: nowrap;">be&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">One of the people's shrines.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i082" id="i082"></a></div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;">
+<a href="images/i082h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i082.jpg" width="250" height="342" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">LINCOLN IN 1858<br />
+From a photograph in possession of Mr. Stuart Brown
+of Springfield, Illinois</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">John James Piatt</span> was born in Indiana, March
+1, 1835. His earliest schooling was received at
+Rising Sun, in Indiana. At the age of fourteen he
+was set to learn the printing business in the office of
+the <i>Ohio State Journal</i> at Columbus, Ohio, for a brief
+period, and at the age of eighteen years first began to
+write verses. His poems were chiefly on themes connected
+with his native West.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem83" id="poem83">SONNET IN 1862</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Stern</span> be the Pilot in the dreadful hour</p>
+      <p class="i0">When a great nation, like a ship at sea</p>
+      <p class="i0">With the wroth breakers whitening at her lee,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Feels her last shudder if her helmsman cower;</p>
+      <p class="i0">A godlike manhood be his mighty dower!</p>
+      <p class="i1">Such and so gifted, Lincoln, may'st thou be</p>
+      <p class="i1">With thy high wisdom's low simplicity</p>
+      <p class="i0">And awful tenderness of voted power.</p>
+      <p class="i0">From our hot records then thy name shall stand</p>
+      <p class="i1">On Time's calm ledger out of passionate <span style="white-space: nowrap;">days&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">With the pure debt of gratitude begun,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And only paid in never-ending <span style="white-space: nowrap;">praise&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">One of the many of a mighty land,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Made by God's providence the Anointed One.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i084" id="i084"></a></div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 191px;">
+<a href="images/i084h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i084.jpg" width="191" height="269" alt="Photo is signed:
+For Mrs. Lucy G. Speed, from whose pious hand I
+accepted the present of an Oxford Bible twenty years ago.
+Washington, D.&nbsp;C. October 3, 1861
+A. Lincoln." />
+</a>
+</div>
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Lincoln</span> once said: "When any church will
+inscribe over its altar, as its sole qualification for
+membership, the Saviour's condensed statement
+of the substance of both law and gospel, 'Thou shalt
+love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all
+thy soul and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as
+thyself', that church will I join with all my heart and
+all my soul."</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="poem85" id="poem85">LINCOLN, SOLDIER OF CHRIST</a></h3>
+
+<p class="vsm center"><i>From Macmillan's Magazine, England</i></p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Lincoln</span>! When men would name a man</p>
+      <p class="i1">Just, unperturbed, magnanimous,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Tried in the lowest seat of all,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Tried in the chief seat of the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">house&mdash;</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Lincoln! When men would name a man</p>
+      <p class="i1">Who wrought the great work of his age,<span style="letter-spacing: 1em;">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">Who fought, and fought the noblest fight,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And marshalled it from stage to stage.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Victorious, out of dusk and dark,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And into dawn and on till day,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Most humble when the p�ans rang,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Least rigid when the enemy lay</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Prostrated for his feet to <span style="white-space: nowrap;">tread&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i1">This name of Lincoln will they name,</p>
+      <p class="i0">A name revered, a name of scorn,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Of scorn to sundry, not to fame.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Lincoln; the man who freed the slave;</p>
+      <p class="i1">Lincoln, whom never self enticed;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Slain Lincoln, worthy found to die</p>
+      <p class="i1">A soldier of the captain Christ.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i086" id="i086"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 234px;">
+<a href="images/i086h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i086.jpg" width="234" height="327" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">LINCOLN IN 1860<br />
+Photographed by Brady at the time of the "Cooper Institute Speech," February, 1860</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Rev. Hamilton Schuyler</span> was born in
+Oswego, New York, 1862, and is a son of the late
+Anthony Schuyler, who was for many years
+rector of Grace Church, Orange, New Jersey. He belongs
+to the well-known family of that name, being
+seventh in descent from Philip Peterse Schuyler,
+founder of the family, who came to this country from
+Holland and settled in Albany in 1650. He studied at
+Oxford University, England, and the General Theological
+Seminary of New York. Has held positions in
+Calvary Church, New York; Trinity Church, Newport,
+Rhode Island, and was for several years dean of
+the Cathedral at Davenport, Iowa, under the late
+Bishop Perry. He began his rectorship at Trenton
+in February, 1900. Has written extensively for journals
+and periodicals. Among the bound publications which
+bear his name as author are <i>A Fisher of Men,</i> a biography
+of the late Churchill Satterlee, priest and missionary,
+son of the first Bishop of Washington; <i>Studies
+in English Church History;</i> <i>The Intellectual Crisis
+Confronting Christianity;</i> and <i>A History of Trinity
+Church, Trenton.</i> In 1900 his poem, <i>The Incapable,</i> won
+a prize of two hundred dollars offered by the late
+Collis P. Huntington through the <i>New York Sun,</i> for the
+best poems antithetical to Edwin Markham's <i>Man
+With the Hoe.</i> A volume of Mr. Schuyler's verses,
+under the title <i>Within the Cloister's Shadow,</i> was published
+in 1914.</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="poem87" id="poem87">A CHARACTERIZATION OF LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm"><i>From Lincoln Centenary Ode</i></p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Tall</span>, ungainly, gaunt of limb,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Rudely Nature molded him.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Awkward form and homely face,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Owing naught to outward grace;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Yet, behind the rugged mien</p>
+      <p class="i0">Were a mind and soul serene,</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i088" id="i088"></a></div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 165px;">
+<a href="images/i088h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i088.jpg" width="165" height="237" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN<br />
+Photograph by Gardner, Washington</p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
+      <p class="i0">And in deep-set eyes there shone</p>
+      <p class="i0">Genius that was all his own.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Humor quaint with pathos blent</p>
+      <p class="i0">To his speech attraction lent;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Telling phrase and homely quip</p>
+      <p class="i0">Falling lightly from his lip.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Eloquent of tongue, and clear,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Logical, devoid of fear,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Making plain whate'er was dense</p>
+      <p class="i0">By the light of common sense.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Tender as the bravest be,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Pitiful in high degree,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Wrathful only where offence</p>
+      <p class="i0">Led to grievous consequence;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Hating sham and empty show;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Chivalrous to beaten foe;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Ever patient in his ways;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Cheerful in the darkest days;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Not a demi-god or saint</p>
+      <p class="i0">Such as fancy loves to paint,</p>
+      <p class="i0">But a truly human man</p>
+      <p class="i0">Built on the heroic plan.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i090" id="i090"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 145px;">
+<a href="images/i090h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i090.jpg" width="145" height="203" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">EMANCIPATION GROUP</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Moses Kimball</span>, a citizen of Boston, presented
+to the city a duplicate of the Freedman's Memorial
+Statue erected in Lincoln Park, Washington,
+D. C., after a design by Thomas Ball. The group,
+which stands in Park Square, represents the figure of
+a slave from whose limbs the broken fetters have
+fallen, kneeling in gratitude at the feet of Lincoln.
+The verses which follow were written for the unveiling
+of the statue, December 9, 1879.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">John Greenleaf Whittier</span>, born December
+17, 1807, in Haverhill, Massachusetts. He lived
+on a farm until he reached the age of eighteen,
+working a little at shoemaking and also writing poetry
+for the <i>Haverhill Gazette.</i> Later he became editor of a
+number of papers, and his poems in after life were full
+of patriotism and the love of human freedom, all of
+which attained a strong hold on the hearts of the
+people. He would have prevented war, if possible,
+with honor, but when war came he wrote in support of
+the Union cause, displaying no bitterness, and when
+the conflict was over he was most liberal and conciliatory.
+He was one of the most popular of poets.
+He died September 7, 1892.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem91" id="poem91">THE EMANCIPATION GROUP</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Amidst</span> thy sacred effigies</p>
+      <p class="i1">Of old renown give place,</p>
+      <p class="i0">O city. Freedom-loved! to his</p>
+      <p class="i1">Whose hand unchained a race.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Take the worn frame, that rested not</p>
+      <p class="i1">Save in a martyr's grave;</p>
+      <p class="i0">The care-lined face, that none forgot,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Bent to the kneeling slave.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Let man be free! The mighty word</p>
+      <p class="i1">He spoke was not his own;</p>
+      <p class="i0">An impulse from the Highest stirred</p>
+      <p class="i1">These chiseled lips alone.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">The cloudy sign, the fiery guide,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Along his pathway ran,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And Nature, through his voice, denied</p>
+      <p class="i1">The ownership of man.</p>
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">We rest in peace where these sad eyes</p>
+      <p class="i1">Saw peril, strife, and pain;</p>
+      <p class="i0">His was the Nation's sacrifice,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And ours the priceless gain.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">O symbol of God's will on earth</p>
+      <p class="i1">As it is done above</p>
+      <p class="i0">Bear witness to the cost and worth</p>
+      <p class="i1">Of justice and of love!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Stand in thy place and testify</p>
+      <p class="i1">To coming ages long,</p>
+      <p class="i0">That truth is stronger than a lie,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And righteousness than wrong.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i093" id="i093"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 257px;">
+<a href="images/i093h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i093.jpg" width="257" height="385" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN<br />
+Photograph by Brady, Washington, D.&nbsp;C., 1863</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Theron Brown</span>, born at Willimantic, Connecticut,
+April 29, 1832. Graduated at Hartford
+Theological Seminary in 1858; Newton Theological
+Institution, 1859. Ordained in Baptist Ministry,
+1859; Pastor South Framingham, Massachusetts,
+1859-62; Canton, Massachusetts, 1863-70; on staff
+<i>Youth's Companion</i> since 1870. Author various
+juvenile stories; <i>Life Songs</i> (poems), 1894; <i>Nameless
+Women of the Bible,</i> 1904; <i>The Story of the Hymns
+and Tunes,</i> 1907; <i>Under the Mulberry Tree</i> (a novel),
+1909; <i>The Birds of God,</i> 1911. He died February
+14, 1914.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem94" id="poem94">THE LIBERATOR</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">When</span>, scornful of a nation's rest,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The angry horns of Discord blew</p>
+      <p class="i0">There came a giant from the West,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And found a giant's work to do.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">He saw, in sorrow&mdash;and in <span style="white-space: nowrap;">wrath&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i1">A mighty empire in its strait,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Torn like a planet in its path</p>
+      <p class="i1">To warring hemisphere of hate.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Between the thunder-clouds he stood;</p>
+      <p class="i1">He harked to Ruin's battle-drum,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And cried in patriot hardihood,</p>
+      <p class="i1">"Why do I wait? My hour has come!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">"Was it my fate, my lot, my woe</p>
+      <p class="i1">To be the Ruler of the land,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Nor own my oath that long ago</p>
+      <p class="i1">I swore upon this heart and hand?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">"That vow, like barb from bowman's string,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Shall pierce sedition's secret plea:</p>
+      <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
+      <p class="i0">God grant the bloodless blow shall sting</p>
+      <p class="i1">Till brother's quarrels cease to be!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">"Should once the sudden wound provoke</p>
+      <p class="i1">New strife in anger's zone</p>
+      <p class="i0">The clash may be the penal stroke</p>
+      <p class="i1">That makes a new Republic one."</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">He wrote his Message&mdash;clear as light,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And bolder than a king's <span style="white-space: nowrap;">command&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">And when war's whirlwinds spent their might</p>
+      <p class="i1">There was no bondman in the land.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i095" id="i095"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 156px;">
+<a href="images/i095h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i095.jpg" width="156" height="221" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN<br />
+Photograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D.&nbsp;C., January 24, 1863</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="poem96" id="poem96">TO PRESIDENT LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm"><i>January 1, 1863</i><br /></p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Lincoln</span>, that with thy steadfast truth the sand</p>
+      <p class="i0">Of men and time and circumstance dost sway!</p>
+      <p class="i0">The slave-cloud dwindles on this golden day,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And over all the pestilent southern land,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Breathless, the dark expectant millions stand,</p>
+      <p class="i1">To watch the northern sun rise on its way,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Cleaving the stormy distance&mdash;every ray</p>
+      <p class="i0">Sword-bright, sword-sharp, in God's invisible hand.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Better with this great end, partial defeat,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And jibings of the ignorant worldly-wise,</p>
+      <p class="i2">Than laud and triumph won with shameful blows.</p>
+      <p class="i0">The dead Past lies in its dead winding-sheet;</p>
+      <p class="i1">The living Present droops with tearful eyes;</p>
+      <p class="i2">But far beyond the awaiting Future glows.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="right"><i>Edmund Ollier, in London (Eng.) Morning Star.</i></p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i097" id="i097"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;">
+<a href="images/i097h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i097.jpg" width="252" height="355" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN<br />
+Photograph by Brady, Washington, D.&nbsp;C.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Charles G. Foltz</span> was born at West Winfield,
+Herkimer County, New York, September 9, 1837.
+His parents were Benjamin Foltz, a Presbyterian
+clergyman, and Jane Harwood Foltz. In 1846 the
+family moved to Cuyahoga County, Ohio. In 1849 to
+Wisconsin, first to Rock County, then to Walworth
+County, and in 1854 to Burlington, Racine County,
+where he has since resided.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem98" id="poem98">ON FREEDOM'S SUMMIT</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">On</span> freedom's summit, Oh, how grand</p>
+      <p class="i0">Stood Lincoln ruler of our land,</p>
+      <p class="i1">As he issued the sublime command</p>
+      <p class="i1">Let the enslaved be free.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Ere long he saw the Bondmen rise;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Ere long as Freedmen seize the prize,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The precious boon of liberty.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">A backward glance he cast</p>
+      <p class="i0">Into the valley of the past,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Amid the shade and gloom</p>
+      <p class="i1">Discerning slavery's tomb.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Out from the depths his upturned eyes</p>
+      <p class="i0">Beheld the fleeing clouds the brighter skies.</p>
+      <p class="i1">Upon him shone a glory like the sun,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Reflecting "peace toward all, malice toward none."</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">As thus he filled his high exalted place,</p>
+      <p class="i0">The brave emancipator of a race,</p>
+      <p class="i1">He thought of the fierce struggle and the victory</p>
+      <p class="i1">And humbly deemed himself to be</p>
+      <p class="i1">Only the instrument of a Divine decree.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Rejoicing in the faith of brighter coming days</p>
+      <p class="i0">His "fervent prayers" were merged in those of praise.</p>
+      <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Like unto psalmists of the olden time</p>
+      <p class="i1">His uttered thoughts inspired the nation's song,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Throughout the land the chorus rose sublime,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The exultant triumph of the right o'er wrong.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">"Behold, what God the Lord hath wrought,"</p>
+      <p class="i0">More than we asked, or hoped, or thought.</p>
+      <p class="i1">Through the "Red sea" of blood and carnage</p>
+      <p class="i1">He brought our nation free of bondage.</p>
+      <p class="i0">With Moses sing, yea shout O North;</p>
+      <p class="i0">With Miriam answer back O South:</p>
+      <p class="i1">That "He hath triumphed gloriously."</p>
+</div>
+      <p class="i3"><span class="tbdots"><b>.....</b></span></p>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Oh why the sudden blotting out of light?</p>
+      <p class="i0">The cloud of sorrow, dark as Plutonian night,</p>
+      <p class="i0">That cast its lengthening shadow o'er the land;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Changing to funeral dirge the choral grand.</p>
+      <p class="i1">Swift as the typhoon's <span style="white-space: nowrap;">breath&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i1">The harbinger of <span style="white-space: nowrap;">death&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i2">The cruel deed of hate</p>
+      <p class="i0">Swept the grand chief away.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Unto this day, and ever aye,</p>
+      <p class="i2">The nation mourns her martyr's fate.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i100" id="i100"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 220px;">
+<a href="images/i100h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i100.jpg" width="220" height="309" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem100" id="poem100">ADDRESS DELIVERED AT THE DEDICATION<br />
+OF THE CEMETERY AT GETTYSBURG</a></h3>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Four</span> score and seven years ago our fathers brought
+forth on this continent a new nation, conceived
+in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that
+all men are created equal.</p>
+
+<p>Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing
+whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and
+so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great
+battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
+a portion of that field as a final resting place for those
+who here gave their lives that that nation might live.
+It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do
+this.</p>
+
+<p class="vbsm">But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate&mdash;we cannot
+consecrate&mdash;we cannot hallow&mdash;this ground. The
+brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have
+consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or
+detract. The world will little note, nor long remember
+what we say here, but it can never forget what they
+did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated
+here to the unfinished work which they who fought
+here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather
+for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining
+before us,&mdash;that from these honored dead we take increased
+devotion to that cause for which they gave
+their last full measure of devotion&mdash;that we here
+highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in
+vain&mdash;that this nation, under God, shall have a new
+birth of freedom&mdash;and that government of the people,
+by the people, for the people, shall not perish from
+the earth.</p>
+
+<p class="fsmcap vsm vb0" style="margin-left: 1em;">November 19, 1863.</p>
+<p class="right1" style="margin-top: -1.25em;">ABRAHAM LINCOLN.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p>"Undoubtedly there were many in the audience who
+fully appreciated the beauty of the President's address,
+and many of those who read it on the following day
+perceived its wondrous character; but it is apparent
+that its full force and grandeur were not generally
+recognized then, either by its auditors or its readers.
+Not until the war had ended and the great leader had
+fallen did the nation realize that this speech had given
+to Gettysburg another claim to immortality and to
+American eloquence its highest glory."&mdash;From the
+monograph on the Gettysburg Address, by Maj.
+William H. Lambert.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Bayard Taylor</span>, born in Kennett Square, Chester
+County, Pennsylvania, on the 11th of January,
+1825. Died in Berlin, Germany, on the 19th of
+December, 1878. His boyhood was passed on a farm
+near Kennett. He learned to read at four, began to
+write at an early age, and from his twelfth year wrote
+poems, novels and historical essays, but mostly poems.
+In 1837 the family moved to Westchester, and there and
+at Unionville he had five years of high-school training.
+His first poem printed was contributed to the <i>Saturday
+Evening Post,</i> in 1841, and those to the <i>New York
+Tribune</i> from abroad, written in 1844, were widely read
+and shortly after his return were collected and published
+in <i>Views Afoot, or Europe Seen With Knapsack
+and Staff.</i> With a friend he bought a printing office in
+1846, and began to publish the <i>Phoenixville Pioneer,</i> but
+it was as a poet that he excelled above most other vocations.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="poem102" id="poem102">GETTYSBURG ODE</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">After</span> the eyes that looked, the lips that spake</p>
+      <p class="i0">Here, from the shadows of impending death,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Those words of solemn breath,</p>
+      <p class="i1">What voice may fitly break</p>
+      <p class="i0">The silence, doubly hallowed, left by him?</p>
+      <p class="i0">We can but bow the head, with eyes grown dim,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And, as a Nation's litany, repeat</p>
+      <p class="i0">The phrase his martyrdom hath made complete,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Noble as then, but now more sadly sweet:</p>
+      <p class="i0">"Let us, the Living, rather dedicate</p>
+      <p class="i0">Ourselves to the unfinished work, which they</p>
+      <p class="i0">Thus far advanced so nobly on its way,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And saved the periled State!</p>
+      <p class="i0">Let us, upon this field where they, the brave,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Their last full measure of devotion gave,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Highly resolve they have not died in <span style="white-space: nowrap;">vain!&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">That, under God, the Nation's later birth</p>
+      <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+      <p class="i0">Of freedom, and the people's gain</p>
+      <p class="i0">Of their own Sovereignty, shall never wane</p>
+      <p class="i0">And perish from the circle of the earth!"</p>
+      <p class="i0">From such a perfect text, shall Song aspire</p>
+      <p class="i0">To light her faded fire,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And into wandering music turn</p>
+      <p class="i0">Its virtue, simple, sorrowful, and stern?</p>
+      <p class="i0">His voice all elegies anticipated;</p>
+      <p class="i1">For, whatsoe'er the strain,</p>
+      <p class="i1">We hear that one refrain:</p>
+      <p class="i0">"We consecrate ourselves to them, the Consecrated!"</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i103" id="i103"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 183px;">
+<a href="images/i103h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i103.jpg" width="183" height="262" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND HIS SON THOMAS ("TAD")</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Benjamin Franklin Taylor</span>, born at Lowville,
+New York, July 19, 1819. He was for several
+years connected with the <i>Chicago Evening Journal.</i>
+He wrote <i>Pictures of Life in Camp and Field</i> (1871);
+<i>The World on Wheels,</i> etc. (1874); <i>Songs of Yesterday</i>
+(1877); <i>Between the Gates</i> (1878); <i>Summer Savory,</i> etc.
+(1879); <i>Dulce Domum</i> (1884); <i>Theophilus Trent,</i> a
+novel (1887); etc. Among his best known poems are:
+<i>Isle of the Long Ago,</i> <i>Rhymes of the River,</i> and <i>The Old
+Village Choir.</i></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem104" id="poem104">LINCOLN'S SECOND INAUGURAL</a></h3>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+   <p>The following is an excerpt from a <i>Centennial Poem</i> read by B.&nbsp;F.
+   Taylor on Decoration Day (May 30, 1876), on the occasion of the
+   centennial celebration by the Department of the Potomac, Grand
+   Army of the Republic, at Arlington Cemetery, Washington, D.&nbsp;C.</p>
+</div>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">They</span> see the pilgrims to the Springfield <span style="white-space: nowrap;">tomb&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i1">Be proud today, oh, portico of <span style="white-space: nowrap;">gloom!&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i1">Where lies the man in solitary state</p>
+      <p class="i1">Who never caused a tear but when he died</p>
+      <p class="i0">And set the flags around the world half-<span style="white-space: nowrap;">mast&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">The gentle Tribune and so grandly great</p>
+      <p class="i1">That e'en the utter avarice of Death</p>
+      <p class="i1">That claims the world, and will not be denied,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Could only rob him of his mortal breath.</p>
+      <p class="i0">How strange the splendor, though the man be past!</p>
+      <p class="i0">His noblest inspiration was his last.</p>
+      <p class="i0">The statues of the Capitol are there.</p>
+      <p class="i0">As when he stood upon the marble stair</p>
+      <p class="i0">And said those words so tender, true and just,</p>
+      <p class="i0">A royal psalm that took mankind on <span style="white-space: nowrap;">trust&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">Those words that will endure and he in them,</p>
+      <p class="i0">While May wears flowers upon her broidered hem,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And all that marble snows and drifts to dust:</p>
+      <p class="i0">"Fondly do we hope, fervently we pray<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p>
+      <p class="i0">That this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away:</p>
+      <p class="i0">With charity for all, with malice toward none,</p>
+      <p class="i1">With firmness in the right</p>
+      <p class="i1">As God shall give us light,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Let us finish the work already begun,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Care for the battle sons, the Nation's wounds to bind,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Care for the helpless ones that they will leave behind,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Cherish it we will, achieve it if we can,</p>
+      <p class="i0">A just and lasting peace, forever unto man!"</p>
+      <p class="i0">Amid old Europe's rude and thundering years,</p>
+      <p class="i1">When people strove as battle-clouds are driven,</p>
+      <p class="i0">One calm white angel of a day appears</p>
+      <p class="i1">In every year a gift direct from Heaven,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Wherein, from setting sun to setting sun</p>
+      <p class="i0">No thought of deed of bitterness was done.</p>
+      <p class="i0">"Day of the Truce of God!" Be this day ours,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Until perpetual peace flows like a river</p>
+      <p class="i0">And hopes as fragrant as these tribute flowers</p>
+      <p class="i1">Fill all the land forever and forever!</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i106" id="i106"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 167px;">
+<a href="images/i106h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i106.jpg" width="167" height="258" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN<br />
+Photograph by Brady, Washington, D.&nbsp;C.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Hermann Hagedorn</span>, born in New York,
+July 18, 1882. Instructor in English at Harvard
+in 1909-1911. Wrote several one-act plays which
+were produced by the Harvard Dramatic Club, and by
+clubs of other colleges. Author of <i>The Silver Blade</i> (a
+play in verse), <i>The Woman of Corinth,</i> <i>A Troop of
+the Guard</i> and other poems.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem107" id="poem107">OH, PATIENT EYES!</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Oh</span>, patient eyes! oh, bleeding, mangled heart!</p>
+      <p class="i0">Oh, hero, whose wide soul, defying chains,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Swept at each army's head,</p>
+      <p class="i2">Swept to the charge and bled,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Gathering in one too sorrow-laden heart</p>
+      <p class="i1">All woes, all pains;</p>
+      <p class="i1">The anguish of the trusted hope that wanes,</p>
+      <p class="i0">The soldier's wound, the lonely mourner's smart.</p>
+      <p class="i0">He knew the noisy horror of the fight,</p>
+      <p class="i0">From dawn to dusk and through the hideous night</p>
+      <p class="i1">He heard the hiss of bullets, the shrill scream</p>
+      <p class="i2">Of the wide-arching shell,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Scattering at Gettysburg or by Potomac's stream,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Like summer flowers, the pattering rain of death;</p>
+      <p class="i0">With every breath,</p>
+      <p class="i1">He tasted battle and in every dream,</p>
+      <p class="i2">Trailing like mists from gaping walls of hell,</p>
+      <p class="i1">He heard the thud of heroes as they fell.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i108" id="i108"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 179px;">
+<a href="images/i108h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i108.jpg" width="179" height="246" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN<br />
+Photograph by Brady</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Margaret Elizabeth Sangster</span>, born at
+New Rochelle, New York, February 22, 1838.
+Educated privately, chiefly in New York. Became
+contributor to leading periodicals; also editor of
+<i>Hearth and Home,</i> 1871-73; <i>Christian at Work,</i> 1873-79;
+<i>The Christian Intelligencer</i> since 1879; postmistress
+<i>Harper's Young People,</i> 1882-89; editor <i><a name="trans109" id="trans109">Harper's
+Bazar,</a></i> 1889-99; staff contributor <i>Christian Herald</i>
+since 1894; <i>Ladies' Home Journal,</i> 1899-1905; <i>Woman's
+Home Companion</i> since 1905. Author <i>Poems of the
+Household;</i> <i>Home Fairies and Heart Flowers;</i> <i>On the
+Road Home;</i> <i>Easter Bells;</i> <i>Winsome Womanhood;</i>
+<i>Little Knights and Ladies;</i> <i>Lyrics of Love;</i> <i>When
+Angels Come to Men;</i> <i>Good Manners for All Occasions;</i>
+<i>The Story Bible;</i> <i>Fairest Girlhood;</i> <i>From My Youth
+Up;</i> <i>Happy School Days.</i> She died June 4, 1912.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="poem109" id="poem109">ABRAHAM LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm">(<i>February 12, 1809-1909</i>)</p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Child</span> of the boundless prairie, son of the virgin soil,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Heir to the bearing of burdens, brother to them that toil;</p>
+      <p class="i0">God and Nature together shaped him to lead in the van,</p>
+      <p class="i0">In the stress of her wildest weather when the Nation needed a Man.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Eyes of a smoldering fire, heart of a lion at bay,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Patience to plan for tomorrow, valor to serve for today,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Mournful and mirthful and tender, quick as a flash with a jest,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Hiding with gibe and great laughter the ache that was dull in his breast.</p>
+      <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Met were the Man and the Hour&mdash;Man who was strong for the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">shock&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">Fierce were the lightnings unleashed; in the midst, he stood fast as a rock.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Comrade he was and commander, he who was meant for the time,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Iron in council and action, simple, aloof, and sublime.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Swift slip the years from their tether, centuries pass like a breath,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Only some lives are immortal, challenging darkness and death.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Hewn from the stuff of the martyrs, write on the stardust his name,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Glowing, untarnished, transcendent, high on the records of Fame.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Oh, man of many sorrows, 'twas your blood</p>
+      <p class="i1">That flowed at Chickamauga, at Bull Run,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Vicksburg, Antietam, and the gory wood</p>
+      <p class="i0">And Wilderness of ravenous Deaths that stood</p>
+      <p class="i1">Round Richmond like a ghostly garrison:</p>
+      <p class="i2">Your blood for those who won,</p>
+      <p class="i3">For those who lost, your tears!</p>
+      <p class="i3">For you the strife, the fears,</p>
+      <p class="i2">For us, the sun!</p>
+      <p class="i0">For you the lashing winds and the beating rain in your eyes,</p>
+      <p class="i0">For us the ascending stars and the wide, unbounded skies.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Oh, man of storms! Patient and kingly soul!</p>
+      <p class="i1">Oh, wise physician of a wasted land!</p>
+      <p class="i1">A nation felt upon its heart your hand,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And lo, your hand hath made the shattered, whole,</p>
+      <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
+      <p class="i0">With iron clasp your hand hath held the wheel</p>
+      <p class="i0">Of the lurching ship, on tempest waves no keel</p>
+      <p class="i1">Hath ever sailed.</p>
+      <p class="i1">A grim smile held your lips when strong men quailed.</p>
+      <p class="i1">You strove alone with chaos and prevailed;</p>
+      <p class="i0">You felt the grinding shock and did not reel,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And, ah, your hand that cut the battle's path</p>
+      <p class="i0">Wide with the devastating plague of wrath,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Your bleeding hand, gentle with pity yet,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Did not forget</p>
+      <p class="i0">To bless, to succor, and to heal.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i112" id="i112"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 184px;">
+<a href="images/i112h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i112.jpg" width="184" height="294" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN<br />
+Photograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D.&nbsp;C., 1864</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Wilbur Dick Nesbit</span> was born at Xenia,
+Ohio, September 16, 1871. Educated in the
+public schools at Cedarville, Ohio. Was printer
+and reporter on various Ohio and Indiana papers until
+1898; verse writer and paragrapher <i>Baltimore American,</i>
+1899-1902; since that year writer of verse and humor
+<i>Chicago Evening Post</i> and other newspapers, contributor
+of stories and poems to magazines and periodicals.
+Author of <i>Little Henry's Slate,</i> 1903; <i>The Trail to
+Boyland and Other Poems,</i> 1904; <i>An Alphabet of History,</i>
+1905; <i>The Gentleman Ragman,</i> 1906; <i>A Book of
+Poems,</i> 1906; <i>The Land of Make-Believe and Other
+Christmas Poems,</i> 1907; <i>A Friend or Two,</i> 1908; <i>The
+Loving Cup</i> (compilation), 1909; <i>The Old, Old Wish,</i>
+1911; <i>My Company of Friends,</i> 1911; <i>If the Heart be
+Glad,</i> 1911; co-author with Otto Hauerbach of <i>The
+Girl of My Dreams,</i> a musical comedy, 1910.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem113" id="poem113">THE MAN LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Not</span> as the great who grow more great</p>
+      <p class="i1">Until from us they are <span style="white-space: nowrap;">apart&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">He walks with us in man's estate;</p>
+      <p class="i1">We know his was a brother heart.</p>
+      <p class="i0">The marching years may render dim</p>
+      <p class="i1">The humanness of other men;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Today we are akin to him</p>
+      <p class="i1">As they who knew him best were then.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Wars have been won by mail-clad hands,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Realms have been ruled by sword-hedged kings,</p>
+      <p class="i0">But he above these others stands</p>
+      <p class="i1">As one who loved the common things;</p>
+      <p class="i0">The common faith of man was his,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The common faith of man he <span style="white-space: nowrap;">had&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">For this today his grave face is</p>
+      <p class="i1">A face half joyous and half sad.</p>
+      <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">A man of earth! Of earthy stuff,</p>
+      <p class="i1">As honest as the fruitful soil,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Gnarled as the friendly trees, and rough</p>
+      <p class="i1">As hillsides that had known his toil;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Of earthy stuff&mdash;let it be told,</p>
+      <p class="i1">For earth-born men rise and reveal</p>
+      <p class="i0">A courage fair as beaten gold</p>
+      <p class="i1">And the enduring strength of steel.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">So now he dominates our thought.</p>
+      <p class="i1">This humble great man holds us thus</p>
+      <p class="i0">Because of all he dreamed and wrought;</p>
+      <p class="i1">Because he is akin to us.</p>
+      <p class="i0">He held his patient trust in truth</p>
+      <p class="i1">While God was working out His plan,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And they that were his foes, forsooth,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Came to pay tribute to the Man.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Not as the great who grow more great</p>
+      <p class="i1">Until they have a mystic <span style="white-space: nowrap;">fame&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">No stroke of fortune nor of fate</p>
+      <p class="i1">Gave Lincoln his undying name.</p>
+      <p class="i0">A common man, earth-bred, earth-born,</p>
+      <p class="i1">One of the breed who work and <span style="white-space: nowrap;">wait&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">His was a soul above all scorn.</p>
+      <p class="i1">His was a heart above all hate.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i115" id="i115"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 160px;">
+<a href="images/i115h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i115.jpg" width="160" height="338" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN AT ANTIETAM<br />
+Photograph taken on the battlefield, September, 1862,
+with General McClellan and Allen Pinkerton</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Edwin Arlington Robinson</span>, born at Head
+Tide, Maine, December 22, 1869. Educated at
+Gardiner, Maine, and Harvard University, 1891-3.
+Member National Institute Arts and Letters. Author:
+<i>The Torrent</i> and <i>The Night Before,</i> 1896; <i>The Children
+of the Night,</i> 1897, 1905; <i>Captain Craig</i> (poems), <i>The
+Town Down the River,</i> 1910.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="poem116" id="poem116">THE MASTER</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm">(LINCOLN)</p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp1"><span class="dcap">A flying</span> word from here and there</p>
+      <p class="i1">Had sown the name at which we sneered,</p>
+      <p class="i0">But soon the name was everywhere,</p>
+      <p class="i1">To be reviled and then revered:</p>
+      <p class="i0">A presence to be loved and feared,</p>
+      <p class="i1">We cannot hide it, or deny</p>
+      <p class="i0">That we, the gentlemen who jeered,</p>
+      <p class="i1"><a name="trans116" id="trans116">May be forgotten by and by.</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">He came when days were perilous</p>
+      <p class="i1">And hearts of men were sore beguiled;</p>
+      <p class="i0">And having made his note of us,</p>
+      <p class="i1">He pondered and was reconciled.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Was ever master yet so mild</p>
+      <p class="i1">As he, and so untamable?</p>
+      <p class="i0">We doubted, even when he smiled,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Not knowing what he knew so well.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">He knew that undeceiving fate</p>
+      <p class="i1">Would shame us whom he served unsought;</p>
+      <p class="i0">He knew that he must wince and <span style="white-space: nowrap;">wait&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i1">The jest of those for whom he fought;</p>
+      <p class="i0">He knew devoutly what he thought</p>
+      <p class="i1">Of us and of our ridicule;</p>
+      <p class="i0">He knew that we must all be taught</p>
+      <p class="i1">Like little children in a school.<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">We gave a glamour to the task</p>
+      <p class="i1">That he encountered and saw through,</p>
+      <p class="i0">But little of us did he ask,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And little did we ever do.</p>
+      <p class="i0">And what appears if we review</p>
+      <p class="i1">The season when we railed and chaffed?</p>
+      <p class="i0">It is the face of one who knew</p>
+      <p class="i1">That we were learning while we laughed.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">The face that in our vision feels</p>
+      <p class="i1">Again the venom that we flung,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Transfigured to the world reveals</p>
+      <p class="i1">The vigilance to which we clung.</p>
+      <p class="i0"><a name="trans117" id="trans117">Shrewd, hallowed, harassed</a>, and among</p>
+      <p class="i1">The mysteries that are untold,</p>
+      <p class="i0">The face we see was never young</p>
+      <p class="i1">Nor could it ever have been old.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">For he, to whom we had applied</p>
+      <p class="i1">Our shopman's test of age and worth,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Was elemental when he died,</p>
+      <p class="i1">As he was ancient at his birth:</p>
+      <p class="i0">The saddest among kings of earth,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Bowed with a galling crown, this man</p>
+      <p class="i0">Met rancor with a cryptic mirth,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Laconic&mdash;and Olympian.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">The love, the grandeur, and the fame</p>
+      <p class="i1">Are bounded by the world alone;</p>
+      <p class="i0">The calm, the smouldering, and the flame</p>
+      <p class="i1">Of awful patience were his own;</p>
+      <p class="i0">With him they are forever flown</p>
+      <p class="i1">Past all our fond self-shadowings,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Wherewith we cumber the Unknown</p>
+      <p class="i1">As with inept, Icarian wings.<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">For we were not as other men:</p>
+      <p class="i1">'Twas ours to soar and his to see.</p>
+      <p class="i0">But we are coming down again,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And we shall come down pleasantly;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Nor shall we longer disagree</p>
+      <p class="i1">On what it is to be sublime,</p>
+      <p class="i0">But flourish in our perigee</p>
+      <p class="i1">And have one Titan at a time.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i118" id="i118"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 155px;">
+<a href="images/i118h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i118.jpg" width="155" height="219" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN<br />
+Photograph by Gardner, Washington, D.&nbsp;C. Taken
+when Lincoln appointed General U.&nbsp;S. Grant Commander-in-chief
+of the Army, in 1864</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="poem119" id="poem119">LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm"><i>By Harriet Monroe</i><br /></p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">And</span>, lo! leading a blessed host comes one</p>
+      <p class="i0">Who held a warring nation in his heart;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Who knew love's agony, but had no part</p>
+      <p class="i0">In love's delight; whose mighty task was done</p>
+      <p class="i0">Through blood and tears that we might walk in joy,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And this day's rapture own no sad alloy.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Around him heirs of bliss, whose bright brows wear</p>
+      <p class="i0">Palm leaves amid their laurels ever fair.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Gaily they come, as though the drum</p>
+      <p class="i0">Beat out the call their glad hearts knew so well;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Brothers once more, dear as of yore,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Who in a noble conflict nobly fell.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Their blood washed pure yon banner in the sky,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And quenched the brands laid 'neath these arches <span style="white-space: nowrap;">high&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">The brave who, having fought, can never die.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i120" id="i120"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 140px;">
+<a href="images/i120h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i120.jpg" width="140" height="366" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT-ELECT LINCOLN<br />
+From a photograph taken with his Secretaries,
+John G. Nicolay and John Hay,
+Springfield, Illinois, 186</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Walt Mason</span>, born at Columbus, Ontario,
+May 4, 1862. Self educated. Came to the
+United States 1880. Connected with the
+<i>Atchinson Globe</i> 1885-7, later with <i>Lincoln <span class="nonital">(Nebraska)</span>
+State Journal</i> and other papers; editorial paragrapher
+<i>Evening News,</i> Washington, D.&nbsp;C., 1893; associated
+with William Allen White on <i>Emporia <span class="nonital">(Kansas)</span> Gazette</i>
+since 1907. His rhymes and prose poems are widely
+copied in America.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem121" id="poem121">THE EYES OF LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Sad</span> eyes that were patient and tender,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Sad eyes that were steadfast and true,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And warm with the unchanging splendor</p>
+      <p class="i1">Of courage no ills could subdue!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Eyes dark with the dread of the morrow,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And woe for the day that was gone,</p>
+      <p class="i0">The sleepless companions of sorrow,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The watchers that witnessed the dawn.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Eyes tired from the clamor and goading</p>
+      <p class="i1">And dim from the stress of the years,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And hallowed by pain and foreboding</p>
+      <p class="i1">And strained by repression of tears.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Sad eyes that were wearied and blighted</p>
+      <p class="i1">By visions of sieges and wars</p>
+      <p class="i0">Now watch o'er a country united</p>
+      <p class="i1">From the luminous slopes of the stars!</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i122" id="i122"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 251px;">
+<a href="images/i122h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i122.jpg" width="251" height="324" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN IN 1862<br />
+Photograph by Matthew Brady, Washington, D.&nbsp;C.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Arthur Guiterman</span>, author, born of American
+parentage, at Vienna, Austria, November 20,
+1871. Editorial work on <i>Woman's Home Companion,</i>
+<i>Literary Digest</i> and other magazines since
+1891. Author of <i>Betel Nuts,</i> 1907; <i>Guest Book,</i> 1908;
+<i>Rubiayat,</i> including the <i>Literary Omar,</i> 1909, and
+<i>Orestes</i> (with Andre Tridon), 1909. Contributor
+chiefly of ballad, lyric verse and short stories to magazines
+and newspapers.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem123" id="poem123">HE LEADS US STILL</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Dare</span> we despair? Through all the nights and days</p>
+      <p class="i1">Of lagging war he kept his courage true.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Shall Doubt befog our eyes? A darker haze</p>
+      <p class="i1">But proved the faith of him who ever knew</p>
+      <p class="i0">That Right must conquer. May we cherish hate</p>
+      <p class="i1">For our poor griefs, when never word nor deed<span style="letter-spacing: 1em;">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">Of rancor, malice, spite, of low or great,</p>
+      <p class="i1">In his large soul one poison-drop could breed?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">He leads us still. O'er chasms yet unspanned</p>
+      <p class="i1">Our pathway lies; the work is but begun;</p>
+      <p class="i0">But we shall do our part and leave our land</p>
+      <p class="i1">The mightier for noble battles won.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Here Truth must triumph, Honor must prevail;</p>
+      <p class="i0">The nation Lincoln died for cannot fail!</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i124" id="i124"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 185px;">
+<a href="images/i124h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i124.jpg" width="185" height="294" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN<br />
+Photograph by Brady, Washington, D.&nbsp;C., 1864</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp1"><span class="dcap">S. Weir Mitchell</span>, born at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania,
+February 15, 1829. Educated in grammar
+school, and University of Pennsylvania, but
+was not graduated because of illness during senior year;
+Doctor of Medicine, Jefferson Medical College, 1850;
+LL.D., Harvard, 1886; Edinburgh, 1895; Princeton,
+1896; Toronto, 1896; Jefferson Medical College, Philadelphia,
+1910. Established practice in Philadelphia.
+Author of many works on treatment of diseases. <i>Collected
+Poems,</i> 1896-1909; <i>Youth of Washington,</i> 1904;
+<i>A Diplomatic Adventure,</i> 1905; <i>The Mind Reader,</i>
+1907; <i>A Christmas Venture,</i> 1907; <i>John Sherwood,
+Ironmaster,</i> 1911.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem125" id="poem125">LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Chained</span> by stern duty to the rock of State,</p>
+      <p class="i0">His spirit armed in mail of rugged mirth,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Ever above, though ever near to earth,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Yet felt his heart the cruel tongues that sate</p>
+      <p class="i0">Base appetites and, foul with slander, wait</p>
+      <p class="i0">Till the keen lightnings bring the awful hour</p>
+      <p class="i0">When wounds and suffering shall give them power.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Most was he like to Luther, gay and great,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Solemn and mirthful, strong of heart and limb.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Tender and simple, too; he was so near</p>
+      <p class="i0">To all things human that he cast out fear,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And, ever simpler, like a little child,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Lived in unconscious nearness unto Him</p>
+      <p class="i0">Who always on earth's little ones hath smiled.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i126" id="i126"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 273px;">
+<a href="images/i126h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i126.jpg" width="273" height="326" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">STATUE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN<br />
+In the Public Square, Hodgenville, Kentucky. Adolph A. Weinman, Sculptor</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">George Alfred Townsend</span> was born in
+Georgetown, Delaware, January 30, 1841. In
+1860 he began writing for the press and speaking
+in public, and in 1860 adopted the profession of journalism.
+In 1862 he became a war correspondent for the
+<i>New York World,</i> the <i>Chicago Tribune</i> and other
+papers, and made an enviable reputation as a descriptive
+writer. He also published a number of books both
+of prose and poetry.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem127" id="poem127">ABRAHAM LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> peaceful valley reaching wide,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The wild war stilled on every hand;</p>
+      <p class="i0">On Pisgah's top our prophet died,</p>
+      <p class="i1">In sight of promised land.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Low knelt the foeman's serried fronts,</p>
+      <p class="i1">His cannon closed their lips of <span style="white-space: nowrap;">brass,&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">The din of arms hushed all at once</p>
+      <p class="i1">To let this good man pass.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">A cheerful heart he wore alway,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Though tragic years clashed on the while;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Death sat behind him at the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">play&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i1">His last look was a smile.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">No battle-pike his march imbrued,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Unarmed he went midst martial mails,</p>
+      <p class="i0">The footsore felt their hopes renewed</p>
+      <p class="i1">To hear his homely tales.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">His single arm crushed wrong and thrall</p>
+      <p class="i1">That grand good will we only dreamed,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Two races wept around his pall,</p>
+      <p class="i1">One saved and one redeemed.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">The trampled flag he raised again,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And healed our eagle's broken wing;</p>
+      <p class="i0">The night that scattered armed men</p>
+      <p class="i1">Saw scorpions rise to sting.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i128" id="i128"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 144px;">
+<a href="images/i128h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i128.jpg" width="144" height="226" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN<br />
+Photograph by Brady, Washington, D.&nbsp;C., 1864</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Paul Lawrence Dunbar</span>, born of negro parents
+at Dayton, Ohio, June 27, 1872. Was graduated
+at the Dayton High School in 1891, and since
+then has devoted himself to literature and journalism.
+He has written <i>Oak and Ivy</i> (poems); <i>Lyrics of Lowly
+Life</i> (poems), and <i>The Uncalled</i> (a novel). Since
+1898 he has been on the staff of the Librarian of
+Congress.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem129" id="poem129">LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Hurt</span> was the Nation with a mighty wound,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And all her ways were filled with clam'rous sound.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Wailed loud the South with unremitting grief,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And wept the North that could not find relief.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Then madness joined its harshest tone to strife:</p>
+      <p class="i0">A minor note swelled in the song of life</p>
+      <p class="i0">Till, stirring with the love that filled his breast,</p>
+      <p class="i0">But still, unflinching at the Right's behest</p>
+      <p class="i0">Grave Lincoln came, strong-handed, from <span style="white-space: nowrap;">afar,&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">The mighty Homer of the lyre of war!</p>
+      <p class="i0">'Twas he who bade the raging tempest cease,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Wrenched from his strings the harmony of peace,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Muted the strings that made the discord,&mdash;Wrong,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And gave his spirit up in thund'rous song.</p>
+      <p class="i0">Oh, mighty Master of the mighty lyre!</p>
+      <p class="i0">Earth heard and trembled at thy strains of fire:</p>
+      <p class="i0">Earth learned of thee what Heaven already knew,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And wrote thee down among her treasured few!</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i130" id="i130"></a></div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 131px;">
+<a href="images/i130h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i130.jpg" width="131" height="219" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN<br />
+Photograph by Gardner,
+Washington, D.&nbsp;C., 1865</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Alice Cary</span> was born in Mount Healthy, near
+Cincinnati, Ohio, April 20, 1820. Her first book
+of poems, with her sister Phoebe, was published
+in 1850. Her poems and prose writings were pictures
+from life and nature, among which were <i>Pictures of
+Memory,</i> <i>Mulberry Hill,</i> <i>Coming Home</i> and <i>Nobility.</i>
+She died at her home in New York City, February 12,
+1871. This poem is inscribed to the <i>London Punch.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem131" id="poem131">ABRAHAM LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">No</span> glittering chaplet brought from other lands!</p>
+      <p class="i1">As in his life, this man, in death, is ours;</p>
+      <p class="i0">His own loved prairies o'er his "gaunt, gnarled hands,"</p>
+      <p class="i1">Have fitly drawn their sheet of summer flowers!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">What need hath he now of a tardy crown,</p>
+      <p class="i1">His name from mocking jest and sneer to save</p>
+      <p class="i0">When every plowman turns his furrow down</p>
+      <p class="i1">As soft as though it fell upon his grave?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">He was a man whose like the world again</p>
+      <p class="i1">Shall never see, to vex with blame or praise;</p>
+      <p class="i0">The landmarks that attest his bright, brief reign,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Are battles, not the pomps of gala days!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">The grandest leader of the grandest war</p>
+      <p class="i1">That ever time in history gave a <span style="white-space: nowrap;">place,&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">What were the tinsel flattery of a star</p>
+      <p class="i1">To such a breast! or what a ribbon's grace!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">'Tis to th' man, and th' man's honest worth,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The Nation's loyalty in tears upsprings;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Through him the soil of labor shines henceforth,</p>
+      <p class="i1">High o'er the silken broideries of kings.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">The mechanism of eternal <span style="white-space: nowrap;">forms&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i1">The shifts that courtiers put their bodies <span style="white-space: nowrap;">through&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">Were alien ways to him: his brawny arms</p>
+      <p class="i1">Had other work than posturing to do!</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i132" id="i132"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 144px;">
+<a href="images/i132h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i132.jpg" width="144" height="220" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN<br />
+Photograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington,
+D. C., 1865</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Rose Terry Cooke</span> was born in West Hartford,
+Connecticut, February 17, 1827. Graduated at
+Hartford Female Seminary in 1843. She has
+written many short stories and a number of books of
+poems.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem132" id="poem132">ABRAHAM LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Hundreds</span> there have been, loftier than their kind,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Heroes and victors in the world's great wars:</p>
+      <p class="i0">Hundreds, exalted as the eternal stars,</p>
+      <p class="i0">By the great heart, or keen and mighty mind;</p>
+      <p class="i0">There have been sufferers, maimed and halt and blind,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Who bore their woes in such triumphant calm</p>
+      <p class="i0">That God hath crowned them with the martyr's palm;</p>
+      <p class="i0">And there were those who fought through fire to find</p>
+      <p class="i0">Their Master's face, and were by fire refined.</p>
+      <p class="i0">But who like thee, oh Sire! hath ever stood</p>
+      <p class="i0">Steadfast for truth and right, when lies and wrong</p>
+      <p class="i0">Rolled their dark waters, turbulent and strong;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Who bore reviling, baseness, tears and blood</p>
+      <p class="i0">Poured out like water, till thine own was spent,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Then reaped Earth's sole reward&mdash;a grave and monument!</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i134" id="i134"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 140px;">
+<a href="images/i134h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i134.jpg" width="140" height="221" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN<br />
+Photograph by Brady, Washington, D.&nbsp;C., 1865</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Frederick Lucian Hosmer</span>, born at Framingham,
+Massachusetts, October 16, 1840. Graduated
+at Harvard in 1869. Ordained in Unitarian
+Ministry at Northboro, Massachusetts, in 1869.
+Author of <i>The Way of Life,</i> <i>The Thought of God, in
+Hymns and Poems.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem135" id="poem135">LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> prairies to the mountains call,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The mountains to the sea;</p>
+      <p class="i0">From shore to shore a nation keeps</p>
+      <p class="i1">Her martyr's memory.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Though lowly born, the seal of God</p>
+      <p class="i1">Was in that rugged face;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Still from the humble Nazareths come</p>
+      <p class="i1">The Saviours of the race.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">With patient heart and vision clear</p>
+      <p class="i1">He wrought through trying <span style="white-space: nowrap;">days&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">"Malice toward none, with Charity for all,"</p>
+      <p class="i1">Unswerved by blame or praise.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">And when the morn of peace broke through</p>
+      <p class="i1">The battle's cloud and din,</p>
+      <p class="i0">He hailed with joy the promised land,</p>
+      <p class="i1">He might now enter in.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">He seemed as set by God apart,</p>
+      <p class="i1">The winepress trod alone;</p>
+      <p class="i0">He stands forth an uncrowned king,</p>
+      <p class="i1">A people's heart his throne.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Land of our loyal love and hope,</p>
+      <p class="i1">O Land he died to save,</p>
+      <p class="i0">Bow down, renew today thy vows</p>
+      <p class="i1">Beside his martyr grave!</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Charles Monroe Dickinson</span>, born at
+Lowville, New York, November 15, 1842. Educated
+at Fairfield (New York), Seminary and Lowville
+Academy. Admitted to the bar in 1865; practiced
+law in the State of Pennsylvania, at Binghamton, New
+York, and in New York City 1865-77, when he abandoned
+the profession because of broken health. Editor
+and proprietor of <i>Binghamton Republican,</i> 1878-1911.
+In 1892, upon his suggestion and initiative the various
+news organizations were combined into the present
+Associated Press. Presidential elector, 1896; United
+States Consul-General to Turkey, 1897-1906; Diplomatic
+agent to Bulgaria, 1901-1903. While acting in
+this capacity the American missionary, Ellen M.
+Stone, was carried off by brigands, but released through
+his settlement and efforts. Member board to draft
+regulations for government of American consular
+service 1906; American Consul-General at-large, 1906-October
+1, 1908. Author of <i>History of Dickinson
+Family,</i> 1885; <i>The Children and Other Verses,</i> 1889;
+part of political history of State of New York, 1911.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem136" id="poem136">ABRAHAM LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">If</span> any one hath doubt or fear</p>
+      <p class="i1">That this is Freedom's chosen <span style="white-space: nowrap;">clime&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">That God hath sown and planted here</p>
+      <p class="i1">The richest harvest field of <span style="white-space: nowrap;">Time&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">Let him take heart, throw off his fears,</p>
+      <p class="i0">As he looks back a hundred years.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Cities and fields and wealth untold,</p>
+      <p class="i1">With equal rights before the law;</p>
+      <p class="i0">And, better than all lands and <span style="white-space: nowrap;">gold&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i1">Such as the old world never <span style="white-space: nowrap;">saw&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">Freedom and peace, the right to be,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And honor to those who made us free.</p>
+      <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Our greatness did not happen so,</p>
+      <p class="i1">We owe it not to chance or fate;</p>
+      <p class="i0">In furnace heat, by blow on blow,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Were forged the things that make us great;</p>
+      <p class="i0">And men still live who bore that heat,</p>
+      <p class="i0">And felt those deadly hammers beat.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Not in the pampered courts of kings,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Not in the homes that rich men keep,</p>
+      <p class="i0">God calls His Davids with their slings,</p>
+      <p class="i1">Or wakes His Samuels from their sleep;</p>
+      <p class="i0">But from the homes of toil and need</p>
+      <p class="i0">Calls those who serve as well as lead.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Such was the hero of our race;</p>
+      <p class="i1">Skilled in the school of common things,</p>
+      <p class="i0">He felt the sweat on Labor's face,</p>
+      <p class="i1">He knew the pinch of want, the sting</p>
+      <p class="i0">The bondman felt, and all the wrong</p>
+      <p class="i0">The weak had suffered from the strong.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">God passed the waiting centuries by,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And kept him for our time of <span style="white-space: nowrap;">need&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i0">To lead us with his courage <span style="white-space: nowrap;">high&mdash;</span></p>
+      <p class="i1">To make our country free indeed;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Then, that he be by none surpassed,</p>
+      <p class="i0">God crowned him martyr at the last.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+      <p class="i0">Let speech and pen and song proclaim</p>
+      <p class="i1">Our grateful praise this natal morn;</p>
+      <p class="i0">Time hath preserved no nobler name,</p>
+      <p class="i1">And generations yet unborn</p>
+      <p class="i0">Shall swell the pride of those who can</p>
+      <p class="i0">Claim Lincoln as their countryman.</p>
+</div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i138" id="i138"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 145px;">
+<a href="images/i138h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i138.jpg" width="145" height="185" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">FORD'S THEATRE</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> building is a plain brick structure, three stories
+high, seventy-one feet front and one hundred
+feet deep. It was originally constructed and
+occupied as a Baptist Church, but at the beginning
+of the war was converted into a theatre, though never
+used for that purpose after the assassination of Lincoln.
+The government purchased it for one hundred thousand
+dollars, and it is now used as a branch of the Record
+and Pension Division of the War Department. President
+Lincoln was shot by J. Wilkes Booth at 10.20
+o'clock <span class="smcap">P.M.</span> on the evening of April 14, 1865, while
+seated in his private box in the theatre.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="poem139" id="poem139">SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS!</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm"><i>By Robert Leighton</i></p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">&ldquo;Sic</span> semper tyrannis!" the assassin cried,</p>
+         <p class="i0">As Lincoln fell. O villain! who than he</p>
+         <p class="i0">More lived to set both slave and tyrant free?</p>
+         <p class="i0">Or so enrapt with plans of freedom died,</p>
+         <p class="i0">That even thy treacherous deed shall glance aside</p>
+         <p class="i1">And do the dead man's will by land and sea;</p>
+         <p class="i1">Win bloodless battles, and make that to be</p>
+         <p class="i0">Which to his living mandate was denied!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Peace to that gentle heart! The peace he sought</p>
+         <p class="i1">For all mankind, nor for it dies in vain.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Rest to the uncrowned king, who, toiling, brought</p>
+         <p class="i1">His bleeding country through that dreadful reign;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Who, living, earned a world's revering thought,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And, dying, leaves his name without a stain.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Liverpool, England,</i></p>
+         <p style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>May 5, 1865</i></p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i140" id="i140"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 254px;">
+<a href="images/i140h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i140.jpg" width="254" height="206" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">ABRAHAM LINCOLN<br />
+Foully assassinated, April 14, 1865</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Tom Taylor</span> wrote the following poem, which
+appeared in the <i>London Punch,</i> May 6, 1865. The
+engraving is a facsimile of the one published in
+the paper at the head of the poem.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem141" id="poem141">ABRAHAM LINCOLN, FOULLY ASSASSINATED</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">You</span> lay a wreath on murdered <span class="smcap">Lincoln's</span> bier,</p>
+         <p class="i1"><i>You,</i> who with mocking pencil wont to trace,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Broad for self-complacent British sneer,</p>
+         <p class="i1">His length of shambling limb, his furrowed face,</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">His gaunt, gnarled hands, his unkempt, bristling hair,</p>
+         <p class="i1">His garb uncouth, his bearing ill at ease,</p>
+         <p class="i0">His lack of all we prize as debonair,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Of power or will to shine, of art to please,</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0"><i>You,</i> whose smart pen backed up the pencil's laugh,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Judging each step, as though the way were plain:</p>
+         <p class="i0">Reckless, so it could point its paragraph,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Of chief's perplexity, or people's pain.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Beside this corpse, that bears for winding sheet</p>
+         <p class="i1">The Stars and Stripes, he lived to rear anew,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Between the mourners at his head and feet,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Say, scurrile-jester, is there room for <i>you?</i></p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Yes, he had lived to shame me from my sneer,</p>
+         <p class="i1">To lame my pencil, and confute my <span style="white-space: nowrap;">pen&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">To make me own this hind of princes peer,</p>
+         <p class="i1">This rail-splitter a true-born king of men.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">My shallow judgment I had learnt to rue,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Noting how to occasion's height he rose,</p>
+         <p class="i0">How his quaint wit made home-truth seem more true,</p>
+         <p class="i1">How, iron-like, his temper grew by blows.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">How humble, yet how hopeful he could be;</p>
+         <p class="i1">How in good fortune and in ill the same;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Nor bitter in success, nor boastful he,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Thirsty for gold, nor feverish for fame.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">He went about his work&mdash;such work as few</p>
+         <p class="i1">Ever had laid on head and heart and <span style="white-space: nowrap;">hand&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">As one who knows, where there's a task to do,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Man's honest will must Heaven's good grace command.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Who trusts the strength will with the burden grow,</p>
+         <p class="i1">That God makes instruments to work His will,</p>
+         <p class="i0">If but that will we can arrive to know,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Nor tamper with the weights of good and ill.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">So he went forth to battle, on the side</p>
+         <p class="i1">That he felt clear was Liberty's and Right's,</p>
+         <p class="i0">As in his peasant boyhood he had plied</p>
+         <p class="i1">His warfare with rude Nature's thwarting <span style="white-space: nowrap;">mights&mdash;</span></p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">The uncleared forest, the unbroken soil,</p>
+         <p class="i1">The iron-bark that turned the lumberer's axe,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The rapid, that o'erbears the boatmen's toil,</p>
+         <p class="i1">The prairie, hiding the mazed wanderer's tracks,</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">The ambushed Indian, and the prowling <span style="white-space: nowrap;">bear&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i1">Such were the needs that helped his youth to train;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Rough culture&mdash;but such trees large fruit may bear,</p>
+         <p class="i1">If but their stocks be of right girth and grain.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">So he grew up, a destined work to do,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And lived to do it&mdash;four long-suffering years;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Ill-fate, ill-feeling, ill-report, lived through,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And then he heard the hisses change to cheers,</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">The taunts to tribute, the abuse to praise,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And took both with the same unwavering mood;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Till, as he came on light from darking days,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And seemed to touch the goal from where he stood,</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">A felon hand, between the goal and him,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Reached from behind his back, a trigger <span style="white-space: nowrap;">prest,&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">And those perplexed and patient eyes were dim,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Those gaunt, long-laboring limbs were laid to rest!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">The words of mercy were upon his lips,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Forgiveness in his heart and on his pen,</p>
+         <p class="i0">When this vile murderer brought swift eclipse</p>
+         <p class="i1">To thoughts of peace on earth, good will to men.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">The Old World and the New, from sea to sea,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Utter one voice of sympathy and shame!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Sore heart, so stopped when it at last beat high,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Sad life, cut short just as its triumph came.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">A deed accurst! Strokes have been struck before</p>
+         <p class="i1">By the assassin's hand, whereof men doubt</p>
+         <p class="i0">If more of horror or disgrace they bore;</p>
+         <p class="i1">But thy foul crime, like CAIN'S stands darkly out.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Vile hand, that brandest murder on a strife,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Whate'er its grounds, stoutly and nobly striven;</p>
+         <p class="i0">And with the martyr's crown crownest a life</p>
+         <p class="i1">With much to praise, little to be forgiven!</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i144" id="i144"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 169px;">
+<a href="images/i144h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i144.jpg" width="169" height="124" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">DEATHBED OF LINCOLN</p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Immediately</span> after the President was shot in
+Ford's Theatre he was carried across the street to
+the house of William Petersen and placed on a
+single bed in a room at the end of the hall. All through
+that weary night the watchers stood by the bedside.
+He was unconscious every moment from the time the
+bullet entered his head until Dr. Robert King Stone,
+the family physician, announced at twenty-two minutes
+after seven on the following morning that he had
+breathed his last (April 15, 1865). Upon this Secretary
+Edwin M. Stanton, Secretary of War, in a low
+voice said: "<i>Now He Belongs to the Ages.</i>"</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem145" id="poem145">THE DEATHBED</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Silence</span> falls, unbroken save by sobs of strong men</p>
+         <p class="i0">In that room, where Lincoln, at the morning hour's chime</p>
+         <p class="i0">Passed out into the unknown from the world of human ken.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Gone his body and his life work from the world inclosed by time;</p>
+         <p class="i0">But in the silence that was falling after breath of broken prayer,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Words eternal broke the quiet like a bell toll on the air;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Never in the world's wide story, wiser spoke nor Prophet, spoke nor Sages,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Than these words that broke the silence: "He belongs now to the Ages!"</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">"To the Ages!" well you spoke it, Stanton of the massive mind!</p>
+         <p class="i0">He belongs, the years have shown it, to the world of human kind!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Heard his story, where'er hearts throb o'er the world's far spreading way;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Heard his story, children listen at the closing of the day;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Heard his story, lovers speak it in their hushed and saddened tones</p>
+         <p class="i0">As they wander in the twilight, dreaming of their coming homes;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Heard his story, statesmen tell it, with a thrill of pride and truth;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Heard his story, old men speak it to the country's growing youth.</p>
+         <p class="i0">And the years have shown the Prophets, and the years have shown the Sages;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Writ in fire these words of wisdom, "He belongs now to the Ages!"</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i146" id="i146"></a></div>
+
+<table class="fig" summary="Photos">
+      <tr>
+         <td style="width: 160px;">
+               <div class="figcenter" style="width: 134px;">
+                 <a href="images/i146ah.jpg">
+                 <img src="images/i146a.jpg" width="134" height="164" alt="ABRAHAM LINCOLN, President" />
+                 </a>
+               </div>
+               <p class="cption" style="font-size: 14px;">ABRAHAM LINCOLN<br />
+               President</p>
+         </td>
+         <td style="width: 160px;">
+               <div class="figcenter" style="width: 134px;">
+                 <a href="images/i146bh.jpg">
+                 <img src="images/i146b.jpg" width="134" height="164" alt="EDWIN M. STANTON, Secretary of War" />
+                 </a>
+               </div>
+               <p class="cption" style="font-size: 14px;">EDWIN M. STANTON<br />
+               Secretary of War</p>
+         </td>
+      </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap"><a name="Marion_Mills_Miller" id="Marion_Mills_Miller">Marion Mills Miller</a></span> was born at Eaton,
+Ohio, February 27, 1864. He was graduated
+from Princeton in 1886, and for several years
+thereafter was an instructor there in the English department.
+In 1889 he received the degree of Doctor
+of Literature from his Alma Mater. Since 1893 he has
+been engaged in literary and social reform work in
+New York City. He has published some verse and
+fiction, but his most notable work has been in the
+fields of translation and history. He has edited <i>The
+Classics&mdash;Greek and Latin</i> (15 volumes), published
+in 1909, and <i>Great Debates in American History</i> (14
+volumes), published in 1913.</p>
+
+<p>In 1907 he edited the Centenary Edition of <i>The Life
+and Works of Abraham Lincoln</i> in 10 volumes, logically
+arranged for ready reference. The <i>Life of Lincoln</i>
+was published separately in 1908 in two volumes. It
+is based on a manuscript by Henry C. Whitney, whose
+name it bears as author, although the second volume,
+<i>Lincoln, the President,</i> was largely written by Dr.
+Miller. The late Major William H. Lambert, president
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
+of the Lincoln Fellowship, called it "the best of
+the shorter biographies of Lincoln." Dr. Miller has
+also edited <i>The Wisdom of Lincoln</i> (1908), a small
+book of extracts from Lincoln's speeches and writings.
+He wrote the following poem, "Lincoln and Stanton,"
+especially for <span class="smcap">The Poets' Lincoln.</span></p>
+
+<p>The first reference in it is to the Manny-McCormick
+case over the patent rights of the reaping machine, in
+which Lincoln had been at first selected as principal
+pleader, but was superseded by Edwin M. Stanton.
+Having thoroughly prepared himself, he offered his
+assistance to Stanton, but was brusquely repulsed.
+He was so hurt that he felt like leaving the court room,
+but decided, in loyalty to his client, to remain, and,
+leaving his place among counsel, took a seat in the
+audience. Despite his injured feelings he was filled
+with admiration for Stanton's able and successful conduct
+of the case. Lincoln, probably referring to a slur
+of Stanton reported to him, said that he would have
+to go back to Illinois and "study more law," since the
+"college-bred" lawyers were pushing hard the "cornfield"
+ones.</p>
+
+<p>The second reference is to Stanton's criticism of
+Lincoln's conservative course during the first months
+of his Presidency; "that imbecile at the White House,"
+he called him. Stanton as Attorney-General at the
+close of Buchanan's administration had done effective
+work in foiling the plans of the Confederacy, and he
+believed in forceful measures to put down the rebellion
+in its incipiency.</p>
+
+<p>The third reference is to the virtually enforced resignation
+of Simon Cameron, Lincoln's first Secretary of
+War, and Lincoln's choice to succeed him of Stanton,
+whom he realized to be the best equipped man in the
+country for the place.</p>
+
+<p>The fourth reference is to Stanton's remark by the
+bedside of Lincoln as the stricken President ceased
+breathing: "There lies the greatest leader of men the
+world ever saw."</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem146" id="poem146">LINCOLN AND STANTON</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Lincoln</span> had cause one man alone to hate:</p>
+         <p class="i1">A fellow-lawyer, lacking in all grace,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Who cast uncalled-for insult in his face</p>
+         <p class="i0">When Lincoln as his colleague, with innate</p>
+         <p class="i0">Courtesy, proffered aid. With pride inflate</p>
+         <p class="i1">The scornful Stanton waved him to his place,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Snapping, "I need no help to try this case";</p>
+         <p class="i0">And "cornfield lawyer" muttered of his mate.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">And when, as captain of the Union ship,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Lincoln drew sail before the gathering storm</p>
+         <p class="i2">Till favoring winds the shrouds unfurled should fill,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Stanton again curled his contemptuous lip</p>
+         <p class="i1">And, with the impatience of a patriot warm,</p>
+         <p class="i2">Sneered at the helmsman, "craven imbecile."</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Laid was the course at length; the sails untried</p>
+         <p class="i1">Were spread; the raw crew set at spar and coil.</p>
+         <p class="i1">Now round the prow Charybdean waters boil</p>
+         <p class="i0">And ever higher surges war's red tide.</p>
+         <p class="i0">The mate who should the captain's care divide</p>
+         <p class="i1">Has strengthless proved. Where shall, the foe to foil,</p>
+         <p class="i1">A man be found able to bear the toil</p>
+         <p class="i0">And stand, to steer the ship, by Lincoln's side?</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Stanton he called! The bitter choice he made</p>
+         <p class="i1">For country, not himself. The ship was driven</p>
+         <p class="i2">By the great twain through war's abyss, again</p>
+         <p class="i0">Into calm seas. Then Lincoln low was laid,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And Stanton paid him highest tribute given</p>
+         <p class="i2">To mortal: "Mightiest leader among men!"</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i149" id="i149"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a href="images/i149h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i149.jpg" width="400" height="232" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption vbsm">THE DEATH OF LINCOLN</p>
+
+<p class="cption vsm" style="text-align: left;">1 President Lincoln. 2 Hon. Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy. 3 John Hay, Esq., President's Private Secretary. 4 Hon. E.&nbsp;M. Stanton,
+Secretary of War. 5 Rev. Dr. Gurley. 6 Gen. Farnsworth, M.&nbsp;C. from Illinois. 7 Governor Ogilsby of Illinois. 8 General Todd. 9 Rufus
+Andrews, Esq. 10 Hon. W.&nbsp;T. Otto, Assistant Secretary of the Interior. 11 Hon. W. Denison, Postmaster-General. 12 Judge D.&nbsp;K. Carter.
+13 Major-General Halleck. 14 Captain Robert Lincoln. 15 Dr. Leale. 16 Hon. Charles Sumner. 17 Dr. Crane, Assistant Surgeon-General.
+18 Governor Farwell, of Wisconsin. 19 Hon. J.&nbsp;P. Usher, Secretary of the Interior. 20 Major-General Augur. 21 Major-General Meigs. 22 Maunsel
+B. Field, Esq. 23 Hon. Schuyler Colfax. 24 Hon. James Speed, Attorney-General. 25 Hon. H. McCullough, Secretary of the Treasury 26
+Dr. R.&nbsp;K. Stone. 27 Surgeon-General Barnes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i150" id="i150"></a></div>
+
+<table class="fig" summary="Photos">
+      <tr>
+         <td style="width: 200px;">
+               <div class="figcenter" style="width: 140px;">
+                 <a href="images/i150ah.jpg">
+                 <img src="images/i150a.jpg" width="140" height="244" alt="HOUSE IN WHICH LINCOLN DIED, Washington, D.&nbsp;C." />
+                 </a>
+               </div>
+               <p class="cption" style="font-size: 14px;">HOUSE IN WHICH<br />LINCOLN DIED<br />
+               Washington, D.&nbsp;C.</p>
+         </td>
+         <td style="width: 200px;">
+               <div class="figcenter" style="width: 140px;">
+                 <a href="images/i150bh.jpg">
+                 <img src="images/i150b.jpg" width="140" height="244" alt="JOSEPHINE OLDROYD TIEFENTHALER, Born July 17, 1896. Died February 20, 1908" />
+                 </a>
+               </div>
+               <p class="cption" style="font-size: 14px;">JOSEPHINE OLDROYD TIEFENTHALER<br />
+               Born July 17, 1896.<br />Died February 20, 1908</p>
+         </td>
+      </tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Robert Mackay</span> and his wife visited this historic
+house in 1902. They were met at the door
+and escorted through the various rooms containing
+the Collection by Little Josephine, and were deeply impressed
+at the knowledge she exhibited of Lincoln and
+the Collection, although she was but six years of age.
+Mr. Mackay was born at Virginia City, Nevada,
+April 22, 1871. Reporter <i>San Francisco Chronicle,</i>
+1886. Worked on newspapers as printer, reporter and
+editor until 1895, when he traveled extensively over the
+world for the International News Syndicate; joined
+staff of the <i>New York World</i> in 1899; managing editor
+of <i>Success Magazine,</i> 1900-1908. Editor the <i>Delineator,</i>
+1908. Joined editorial department of the Frank A.
+Munsey Company in 1909, contributor of short stories,
+also other prose and verse.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem151" id="poem151">THE HOUSE WHERE LINCOLN DIED</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Above</span> Judea's purple-mantled plain,</p>
+         <p class="i1">There hovers still, among the ruins lone,</p>
+         <p class="i1">The spirit of the Christ whose dying moan</p>
+         <p class="i0">Was heard in heaven, and paid our debt in pain.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">As subtle perfume lingers with the rose,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Even when its petals flutter to the earth,</p>
+         <p class="i1">So clings the potent mystery of the birth</p>
+         <p class="i0">Of that deep love from which all mercy flows.</p>
+   </div>
+         <p><span class="tbdots"><b>&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.</b></span></p>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Within this house,&mdash;this room,&mdash;a martyr died,</p>
+         <p class="i1">A prophet of a larger <span style="white-space: nowrap;">liberty,&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i1">A liberator setting bondmen free,</p>
+         <p class="i0">A full-orbed MAN, above mere mortal pride.</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">The cloud-rifts opening to celestial glades,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Oft glimpse him, and his spirit lingers still,</p>
+         <p class="i1">As Christ's sweet influence broods upon the hill</p>
+         <p class="i0">Where the red lily with the sunset fades.</p>
+   </div>
+         <p><span class="tbdots"><b>&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.</b></span></p>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">A little girl with eyes of heavenly blue,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Sings through the old place, ignorant of all;</p>
+         <p class="i1">Her angel face, her cheerful, birdlike call</p>
+         <p class="i0">Thrilling the heart to life more full, more true.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="poem152" id="poem152">IN TOKEN OF RESPECT</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm"><i>Translation from Latin verses</i><br /></p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">From</span> humble parentage and low degree</p>
+         <p class="i1">Lincoln ascended to the highest rank;</p>
+         <p class="i0">None ever had a harder task than he,</p>
+         <p class="i1">It was perfected&mdash;him alone we thank.<span style="letter-spacing: 1em;">&nbsp;</span></p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Did the assassin think to kill a name,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Or hand his own down to posterity?</p>
+         <p class="i0">One will wear the laurel wreath of fame,</p>
+         <p class="i1">The other be condemned to infamy.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Caesar was killed by Brutus,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Yet Rome did not cease to be;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Lincoln by Booth, and yet the slaves</p>
+         <p class="i1">In all America are free!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="fsmcap" style="margin-left: -1em;">Rieti, France, May, 1865</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="poem153" id="poem153">ENGLAND'S SORROW</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm"><i>From London Fun</i><br /></p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> hand of an Assassin, glowing red,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Shot like a firebrand through the western sky;</p>
+         <p class="i0">And stalwart Abraham Lincoln now is dead!</p>
+         <p class="i1">O! felon heart that thus could basely dye</p>
+         <p class="i0">The name of southerner with murderous gore!</p>
+         <p class="i1">Could such a spirit come from mortal womb?</p>
+         <p class="i0">And what possessed it that not heretofore</p>
+         <p class="i1">It linked its coward mission with the tomb?</p>
+         <p class="i0">Lincoln! thy fame shall sound through many an age,</p>
+         <p class="i1">To prove that genius lives in humble birth;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Thy name shall sound upon historic page,</p>
+         <p class="i1">For 'midst thy faults we all esteemed thy worth.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Gone art thou now! no more 'midst angry heat</p>
+         <p class="i1">Shall thy calm spirit rule the surging tide,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Which rolls where two contending nations meet,</p>
+         <p class="i1">To still the passion and to curb the pride.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Nations have looked and seen the fate of kings,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Protectors, emperors, and such like men;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Behold the man whose dirge all Europe sings,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Now past the eulogy of mortal pen!</p>
+         <p class="i0">He, like a lighthouse, fell athwart the strand;</p>
+         <p class="i1">Let curses rest upon the assassin's hand.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i154" id="i154"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 255px;">
+<a href="images/i154h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i154.jpg" width="255" height="165" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">THE FUNERAL OF LINCOLN<br />
+Ceremonies in the East Room of the White House, April 19, 1865</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">At</span> ten minutes after twelve o'clock Rev. Charles
+H. Hall, of the Church of the Epiphany, opened
+the service by reading from the Episcopal Burial
+Service for the Dead. Bishop Matthew Simpson of
+the Methodist Church then offered prayer, and the Rev.
+Dr. Phineas D. Gurley, pastor of the New York Avenue
+Presbyterian Church, at which Mr. Lincoln and his
+family attended, delivered a sermon. The Rev. E.&nbsp;H.
+Gray, D.D., of the E Street Baptist Church, closed
+the solemn service with prayer.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Phineas Densmore Gurley</span>, born at Hamilton,
+New York, 1816. Educated at Union
+College, Schenectady, New York. Taught during
+vacation, graduated 1837. Studied theology at the
+Theological Seminary, Princeton, New Jersey. Was
+licensed to preach in 1840. In 1840 he went to Indianapolis,
+Indiana, and took charge of a church. In 1849
+he removed to Dayton, Ohio, taking charge of a
+church, and in 1853 moved to Washington, D.&nbsp;C., and
+took charge of a Presbyterian Church on F Street,
+afterwards Willard Hall. In 1858 was elected Chaplain
+of the United States Senate. In July, 1859, the Second
+Presbyterian Church and the F Street Church united,
+and were known as the New York Avenue Presbyterian
+Church, Dr. Gurley becoming its pastor from March,
+1861, until his death. President Lincoln was a pew holder
+and a regular attendant, but was not a member. On one
+occasion the President remarked, "I like Dr. Gurley, he
+doesn't preach politics. I get enough of that during the
+week, and when I go to church I like to hear gospel."</p>
+
+<p>When the President was assassinated Dr. Gurley
+was sent for and remained with the President until
+he breathed his last.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as the spirit took its flight, Secretary Stanton
+turned to Dr. Gurley and said, "Doctor, will you say
+something?" After a brief pause, Dr. Gurley said,
+"Let us talk with God," and offered a touching prayer.
+Dr. Gurley died September 30, 1868.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem155" id="poem155">THE FUNERAL HYMN OF LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Rest</span>, noble martyr! rest in peace;</p>
+         <p class="i1">Rest with the true and brave,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Who, like thee, fell in freedom's cause,</p>
+         <p class="i1">The nation's life to save.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Thy name shall live while time endures,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And men shall say of thee,</p>
+         <p class="i0">"He saved his country from its foes,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And bade the slave be free."</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">These deeds shall be thy monument,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Better than brass or stone;</p>
+         <p class="i0">They leave thy fame in glory's light,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Unrival'd and alone.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">This consecrated spot shall be</p>
+         <p class="i1">To freedom ever dear;</p>
+         <p class="i0">And freedom's sons of every race</p>
+         <p class="i1">Shall weep and worship here.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">O God! before whom we, in tears,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Our fallen chief deplore,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Grant that the cause for which he died</p>
+         <p class="i1">May live forevermore.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Harriet</span> <span class="dcap2">Mc</span><span class="dcap">Ewen Kimball</span>, born at Portsmouth,
+New Hampshire, November, 1834. Educated
+there; specially known as a religious poet,
+although she has written much secular verse; chief
+founder of the Portsmouth Cottage Hospital. Author
+hymns, <i>Swallow Flights;</i> <i>Blessed Company of All
+Faithful People;</i> <i>Poems</i> (complete edition), 1889.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem157" id="poem157">REST, REST FOR HIM</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Rest</span>, rest for him whose noble work is done;</p>
+         <p class="i1">For him who led us gently, unaware,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Till we were readier to do and dare</p>
+         <p class="i0">For Freedom, and her hundred fields were won.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">His march is ended where his march began;</p>
+         <p class="i1">More sweet his sleep for toil and sacrifice,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And that rare wisdom whose beginning lies</p>
+         <p class="i0">In fear of God, and charity for man;</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">And sweetest for the tender faith that grew</p>
+         <p class="i1">More strong in trial, and through doubt more clear,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Seeing in clouds and darkness One appear</p>
+         <p class="i0">In whose dread name the Nation's sword he drew.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Rest, rest for him; and rest for us today</p>
+         <p class="i1">Whose sorrow shook the land from east to west</p>
+         <p class="i1">When slain by treason on the Nation's breast</p>
+         <p class="i0">Her martyr breathed his steadfast soul away.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i158" id="i158"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 255px;">
+<a href="images/i158h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i158.jpg" width="255" height="153" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">THE FUNERAL CAR</p>
+
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">This</span> car bore the remains of the Martyr President
+to his home in Springfield, Illinois, where they
+were laid to rest. The funeral train left Washington,
+D. C., on the 21st of April, 1865, proceeded
+from that city to Baltimore, Maryland; Harrisburg and
+Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; New York City, Albany
+and Buffalo, New York; Cleveland and Columbus,
+Ohio; Indianapolis, Indiana; Chicago, Illinois; and
+finally to Springfield, reaching the latter place May 3,
+where the last sad rites were performed on the succeeding
+day. The body lay in state in all the above cities,
+brief stops being also made in many smaller places.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Richard Henry Stoddard</span> in the following
+Horatian Ode made a beautiful analysis of the
+Martyr President's character, with a magnificent
+picture of the nation's tribute of mourning for its dead
+chief:</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem159" id="poem159">THE FUNERAL CAR OF LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Peace</span>! Let the long procession come,</p>
+         <p class="i0">For, hark!&mdash;the mournful, muffled <span style="white-space: nowrap;">drum&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">The trumpet's wail <span style="white-space: nowrap;">afar&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">And, see! the awful car!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Peace! let the sad procession go,</p>
+         <p class="i0">While cannon boom, and bells toll slow:</p>
+         <p class="i0">And go, thou sacred car,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Bearing our Woe afar!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Go, darkly borne, from State to State,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Whose loyal, sorrowing cities wait</p>
+         <p class="i0">To honor all they can</p>
+         <p class="i0">The dust of that good man!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Go, grandly borne, with such a train</p>
+         <p class="i0">As greatest kings might die to gain;</p>
+         <p class="i0">The Just, the Wise, the Brave</p>
+         <p class="i0">Attend thee to the grave!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">And you the soldiers of our wars,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Bronzed veterans, grim with noble scars,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Salute him once again,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Your late Commander&mdash;slain!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Yes, let your tears, indignant, fall,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And leave your muskets on the wall;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Your country needs you now</p>
+         <p class="i0">Beside the forge, the plow!</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">(When Justice shall unsheathe her <span style="white-space: nowrap;">brand&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">If Mercy may not stay her hand,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Nor would we have it <span style="white-space: nowrap;">so&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">She must direct the blow!)</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">So, sweetly, sadly, sternly goes</p>
+         <p class="i0">The Fallen to his last repose;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Beneath no mighty dome,</p>
+         <p class="i0">But in his modest Home!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">The churchyard where his children rest,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The quiet spot that suits him best;</p>
+         <p class="i0">There shall his grave be made,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And there his bones be laid!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">And there his countrymen shall come,</p>
+         <p class="i0">With memory proud, with pity dumb,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And strangers far and near,</p>
+         <p class="i0">For many and many a year!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">For many a year, and many an age,</p>
+         <p class="i0">With History on her ample page</p>
+         <p class="i0">The virtues shall enroll</p>
+         <p class="i0">Of that Paternal Soul.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">William Cullen Bryant</span>, born in Cummington,
+Massachusetts, November 3, 1794.
+Died in New York, June 12, 1878. He wrote
+verses in his twelfth year to be recited at school. Spent
+two years at Williams College and at the age of eighteen
+began the study of law. He depended upon his profession
+for a number of years, although it was not to his
+liking. His contributions to the <i>North American
+Review</i> and his poems published therein gained him an
+enviable reputation, and reflected great credit upon
+him.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem161" id="poem161">THE DEATH OF LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Oh</span>, slow to smite and swift to spare,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Gentle and merciful and just!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Who, in the fear of God didst bear</p>
+         <p class="i1">The sword of power, a nation's trust.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">In sorrow by thy bier we stand,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Amid the awe that hushes all,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And speak the anguish of a land</p>
+         <p class="i1">That shook with horror at thy fall.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Thy task is done; the bond is <span style="white-space: nowrap;">free&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i1">We bear thee to an honored grave,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Whose noblest monument shall be</p>
+         <p class="i1">The broken fetters of the slave.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Pure was thy life; its bloody close</p>
+         <p class="i1">Hath placed thee with the sons of light</p>
+         <p class="i0">Among the noble host of those</p>
+         <p class="i1">Who perished in the cause of right.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i162" id="i162"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 253px;">
+<a href="images/i162h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i162.jpg" width="253" height="156" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">CITY HALL, NEW YORK, N.&nbsp;Y.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">At</span> the time of the appearance of the procession at
+the City Hall at least twenty thousand persons
+were assembled in the immediate neighborhood.
+While awaiting the arrival of the procession a number
+of German singing bands were marched into the open
+space before the Hall, and arranged on either side of
+the entrance, preparatory to the singing of a requiem
+to the dead. The procession entered the Park at about
+half-past eleven o'clock, and the hearse stopped before
+the entrance to the Hall. Here the coffin was immediately
+taken from the hearse and carried up the stairs
+to the catafalque which had been prepared for its
+reception, while the singing societies rendered two very
+appropriate dirges.</p>
+
+<p>The interior of the City Hall had been decorated
+with much taste. Across the dome a black curtain was
+drawn, and the rays of light thus conducted fell subdued
+upon the sad but imposing spectacle.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Henry T. Tuckerman</span>, a member of the
+Committee on Resolutions, wrote the following
+ode for the funeral obsequies, on the 25th day of
+April, 1865, at New York City. The Athenaeum Club
+participated, bearing an appropriate banner, the members
+wearing distinctive badges of mourning and under
+the leadership of their Vice-President, Henry E. Pierpont;
+the President, William T. Blodgett, being at
+that time absent acting as Chairman of the Citizens
+Committee:</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem163" id="poem163">ODE</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Shroud</span> the banner! rear the cross!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Consecrate a nation's loss;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Gaze on that majestic sleep;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Stand beside the bier to weep;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Lay the gentle son of toil</p>
+         <p class="i0">Proudly in his native soil;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Crowned with honor, to his rest</p>
+         <p class="i0">Bear the prophet of the West.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">How cold the brow that yet doth wear</p>
+         <p class="i0">The impress of a nation's care;</p>
+         <p class="i0">How still the heart, whose every beat</p>
+         <p class="i0">Glowed with compassion's sacred heat;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Rigid the lips, whose patient smile</p>
+         <p class="i0">Duty's stern task would oft beguile;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Blood-quenched the pensive eye's soft light;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Nerveless the hand so loth to smite;</p>
+         <p class="i0">So meek in rule, it leads, though dead,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The people as in life it led.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">O let his wise and guileless sway</p>
+         <p class="i0">Win every recreant today,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And sorrow's vast and holy wave</p>
+         <p class="i0">Blend all our hearts around his grave!</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">Let the faithful bondmen's tears,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Let the traitor's craven fears,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And the people's grief and pride,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Plead against the parricide!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Let us throng to pledge and pray</p>
+         <p class="i0">O'er the patriot martyr's clay;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Then, with solemn faith in right,</p>
+         <p class="i0">That made him victor in the fight,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Cling to the path he fearless trod,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Still radiant with the smile of God.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Shroud the banner! rear the cross!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Consecrate a nation's loss;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Gaze on that majestic sleep;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Stand beside the bier to weep;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Lay the gentle son of toil</p>
+         <p class="i0">Proudly in his native soil;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Crowned with honor, to his rest</p>
+         <p class="i0">Bear the prophet of the West.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Lucy Larcom</span> was born in Beverly, Mass., in
+1826. At the age of seven years she wrote stories
+and poems. She spent three years in school, then
+worked in the cotton mills. Some of her writings
+attracted the attention of Whittier, from whom she
+received encouragement. At the age of twenty she
+went to Illinois and there taught school for some time,
+and for three years studied in Monticello Female
+Seminary. She returned to Massachusetts and during
+the war wrote many patriotic poems.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem164" id="poem164">TOLLING</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Tolling</span>, tolling, tolling!</p>
+         <p class="i1">All the bells of the land!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Lo, the patriot martyr</p>
+         <p class="i1">Taketh his journey grand!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Travels into the ages,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Bearing a hope how dear!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Into life's unknown vistas,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Liberty's great pioneer.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Tolling, tolling, tolling!</p>
+         <p class="i1">See, they come as a cloud,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Hearts of a mighty people,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Bearing his pall and shroud;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Lifting up, like a banner,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Signals of loss and woe;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Wonder of breathless nations,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Moveth the solemn show.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Tolling, tolling, tolling!</p>
+         <p class="i1">Was it, O man beloved,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Was it thy funeral only</p>
+         <p class="i1">Over the land that moved?</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i166" id="i166"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 183px;">
+<a href="images/i166h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i166.jpg" width="183" height="307" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">ROTUNDA, CITY HALL, NEW YORK, N.&nbsp;Y.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> remains of President Lincoln lay in state in
+the City Hall, New York, from noon April 24 to
+noon April 25, 1865. Visitors were admitted
+to view the remains, passing through the Hall two
+abreast. Singing societies sang dirges in the rotunda
+the night through.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Richard Storrs Willis</span> was born in Boston,
+Massachusetts, February 10, 1819, was graduated
+at Yale in 1841, and adopted literature as his
+profession. He has published musical and other
+poems; has edited the <i>New York Musical World</i> and
+<i>Once a Week,</i> and contributed also to current literature.
+He wrote the following:</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem167" id="poem167">REQUIEM OF LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Now</span> wake the requiem's solemn moan,</p>
+         <p class="i0">For him whose patriot task is done!</p>
+         <p class="i0">A nation's heart stands still today</p>
+         <p class="i0">With horror, o'er his martyred clay!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">O, God of Peace, repress the ire,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Which fills our souls with vengeful fire!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Vengeance is Thine&mdash;and sovereign might,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Alone, can such a crime requite!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Farewell, thou good and guileless heart!</p>
+         <p class="i0">The manliest tears for thee must start!</p>
+         <p class="i0">E'en those at times who blamed thee here,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Now deeply sorrow o'er thy bier.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">O, Jesus, grant him sweet repose,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Who, like Thee, seemed to love his foes!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Those foes, like Thine, their wrath to spend,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Have slain their best, their firmest friend.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i168" id="i168"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 262px;">
+<a href="images/i168h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i168.jpg" width="262" height="222" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">ST. JAMES HALL, BUFFALO, N.&nbsp;Y.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> funeral train bearing the remains of President
+Lincoln reached Buffalo, New York, on Thursday
+morning, the 27th of April. The body was taken
+from the funeral car and borne by soldiers up to St.
+James' Hall, where it was placed under a crape canopy,
+extending from the ceiling to the floor. The Buffalo
+St. Cecilia Society sang with deep pathos the dirge
+"Rest, Spirit, Rest," the society then placed an elegantly
+formed harp, made of choice white flowers, at the head
+of the coffin, as a tribute from them to the honored
+dead. The public were admitted to view the remains,
+and the following day the remains reached Cleveland,
+Ohio.</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">James Nicoll Johnston</span> was born in Ardee,
+County Donegal, Ireland. When two years of age
+the family moved to Cashelmore, Sheephaven Bay,
+County Donegal. In 1847 they moved to America.
+He was then between fifteen and sixteen years of age.
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>
+In 1848 they settled at Buffalo, New York, which has
+been his home until the present time.</p>
+
+<p>He has published two editions of <i>Donegal Memories,</i>
+also two editions of <i>Donegal Memories and Other Poems,</i>
+and a volume of Buffalo verse collected by him under the
+title of <i>Poets and Poetry of Buffalo.</i> He assisted in
+collections of Buffalo local literature, also devoted
+much time to the production of publications of a philanthropic
+nature.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem168" id="poem168">REQUIEM</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Bear</span> him to his Western home,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Whence he came four years ago;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Not beneath some Eastern dome,</p>
+         <p class="i0">But where Freedom's airs may come,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Where the prairie grasses grow,</p>
+         <p class="i1">To the friends who loved him so,</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Take him to his quiet rest;</p>
+         <p class="i1">Toll the bell and fire the gun;</p>
+         <p class="i0">He who served his Country best,</p>
+         <p class="i0">He whom millions loved and bless'd,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Now has fame immortal won;</p>
+         <p class="i1">Rack of brain and heart is done.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Shed thy tears, O April rain,</p>
+         <p class="i1">O'er the tomb wherein he sleeps!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Wash away the bloody stain!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Drape the skies in grief, O rain!</p>
+         <p class="i1">Lo! a nation with thee weeps,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Grieving o'er her martyred slain.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">To the people whence he came,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Bear him gently back again,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Greater his than victor's fame:</p>
+         <p class="i0">His is now a sainted name;</p>
+         <p class="i1">Never ruler had such <span style="white-space: nowrap;">gain&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i1">Never people had such pain.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i170" id="i170"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 169px;">
+<a href="images/i170h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i170.jpg" width="169" height="258" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PRESIDENT LINCOLN<br />
+Photograph taken in 1863 by Brady</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Oliver Wendell Holmes</span>, born in Cambridge,
+Mass., August 29, 1809. To him belongs
+the credit of saving the frigate Constitution from
+destruction, by a poem&mdash;<i>Aye, Tear the Battered Ensign
+Down.</i> He died August 7, 1894.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="poem170" id="poem170">SERVICES IN MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm">(<i>City of Boston, June 1, 1865</i>)<br /></p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp1"><span class="dcap">O Thou</span> of soul and sense and breath,</p>
+         <p class="i1">The ever-present Giver,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Unto Thy mighty angel, death,</p>
+         <p class="i1">All flesh Thou didst deliver;</p>
+         <p class="i0">What most we cherish, we resign,</p>
+         <p class="i0">For life and death alike are Thine,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Who reignest Lord forever!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Our hearts lie buried in the dust</p>
+         <p class="i1">With him, so true and tender,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The patriot's stay, the people's trust,</p>
+         <p class="i1">The shield of the offender;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Yet every murmuring voice is still,</p>
+         <p class="i0">As, bowing to Thy sovereign will,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Our best loved we surrender.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Dear Lord, with pitying eye behold</p>
+         <p class="i1">This martyr generation,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Which Thou, through trials manifold,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Art showing Thy salvation!</p>
+         <p class="i0">O let the blood by murder spilt</p>
+         <p class="i0">Wash out Thy stricken children's guilt,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And sanctify our Nation!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Be Thou Thy orphaned Israel's friend,<span style="letter-spacing: 1em;">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></p>
+         <p class="i1">Forsake Thy people never,</p>
+         <p class="i0">In one our broken many blend,</p>
+         <p class="i1">That none again may sever!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Hear us, O Father, while we raise</p>
+         <p class="i0">With trembling lips our song of praise,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And bless Thy name forever!</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i172" id="i172"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 254px;">
+<a href="images/i172h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i172.jpg" width="254" height="183" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">LINCOLN HOMESTEAD, MAY 4, 1865</p>
+<p class="cption">Photographed by F.&nbsp;W. Ingmire on the day of the funeral, with the members of the
+National Committee appointed to accompany the remains to Springfield, Illinois.</p>
+
+<p class="cption" style="text-align: left;">Members on the pavement: Left (1) Hon. Schuyler Colfax, Speaker of the House;
+(2) Hon. R.&nbsp;C. Schenck, Ohio; <a name="trans172b" id="trans172b">(3) Hon. Lyman Trumbull, Illinois;</a> (4) Hon. Charles
+E. Phelps, Maryland; <a name="trans172a" id="trans172a">(5) Hon. W.&nbsp;H. Wallace, Idaho;</a> (6) Hon. Joseph Baily,
+Pennsylvania; (7) Hon. James K. Morehead, Pennsylvania; (8) Hon. Sidney
+Clarke, Kansas; (9) Hon. Samuel Hooper, Massachusetts; (10) Hon. E.&nbsp;B. Washburn,
+Illinois; (11) Hon. Thomas W. Ferry, Michigan; (12) Hon. Thomas B.
+Shannon, California; (13) S.&nbsp;G. Ordway, Sergeant-at-Arms of the House.</p>
+
+<p class="cption" style="text-align: left;">Members in the yard: Left (1) Hon. Isaac N. Arnold, Illinois; (2) Hon. John B.
+Henderson, Missouri; (3) Hen. Richard Yates, Illinois; (4) Hon. James W. Nye,
+Nevada; (5) Hon. Henry S. Lane, Indiana; (6) Hon. George H. Williams, Oregon;
+(7) Hon. George T. Brown, Sergeant-at-Arms of the Senate; (8) Hon. William A.
+Newell, New Jersey.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">William Allen, D.D.</span>, born 1784, died 1868.
+Graduated at Harvard, 1802. President Dartmouth
+College, 1816-1819, Bowdoin College,
+1820-1839. He was the father of American Biography,
+published various volumes of poems; as a philologist,
+he contributed many thousands of words and definitions
+to Webster and Worcester's dictionaries. He
+was leader of the American delegation to the National
+Peace Congress at Versailles in 1849.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem173" id="poem173">SPRINGFIELD'S WELCOME TO LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Lincoln</span>! thy country's father, hail!</p>
+         <p class="i0">We bid thee welcome, but bewail;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Welcome unto thy chosen <span style="white-space: nowrap;">home&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">Triumphant, glorious, dost thou come.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Before the enemy struck the blow</p>
+         <p class="i0">That laid thee in a moment low,</p>
+         <p class="i0">God gave thy wish: It was to see</p>
+         <p class="i0">Our Union safe, our country free.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">A country where the gospel truth</p>
+         <p class="i0">Shall reach the hearts of age and youth,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And move unchained, in majesty,</p>
+         <p class="i0">A model land of liberty!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">When Jacob's bones, from Egypt borne,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Regained their home, the people mourn;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Great mourning then at Ephron's cave,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Both Abraham's and Isaac's grave.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Far greater is the mourning now;</p>
+         <p class="i0">For our land one emblem wide of woe;</p>
+         <p class="i0">And where thy coffin car appears</p>
+         <p class="i0">Do not the people throng in tears?</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">Thy triumph of a thousand miles,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Like eastern conqueror with his <span style="white-space: nowrap;">spoils&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">A million hearts thy captives led,</p>
+         <p class="i0">All weeping for their chieftain dead.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Thy chariot, moved with eagle speed</p>
+         <p class="i0">Without the aid of prancing steed,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Has brought thee to that destined tomb;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Springfield, thy home, will give thee room.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Lincoln, the martyr, welcome home!</p>
+         <p class="i0">What lessons blossom on thy tomb!</p>
+         <p class="i0">In God's pure truth and law delight;</p>
+         <p class="i0">With firm, unwavering soul do right.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Be condescending, kind and just;</p>
+         <p class="i0">In God's wise counsels put thy trust;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Let no proud soul e'er dare rebel,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Moved by vile passions sprung from hell.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Come, sleep with us in sweet repose,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Till we, as Christ from death arose,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Still in His glorious image rise</p>
+         <p class="i0">To dwell with him beyond the skies.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i175" id="i175"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 236px;">
+<a href="images/i175h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i175.jpg" width="236" height="163" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">STATE CAPITOL, ILLINOIS, 1865</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> body of the President lay in state in the
+Capitol, Springfield, Illinois&mdash;which was very
+richly draped&mdash;from May 3 to May 4, when it
+was removed to Oak Ridge Cemetery.</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Lucy Hamilton Hooper</span>, born in Philadelphia,
+Pennsylvania, January 20, 1835. In conjunction
+with Charles G. Leland she edited <i>Our
+Daily Fare,</i> the daily chronicle of the Philadelphia
+Sanitary Fair in 1864. She was assistant editor of
+<i>Lippincott's Magazine</i> from its foundation until she
+went to Europe in 1870. In 1874 she settled in Paris
+and since has been correspondent for various journals
+in this country. She has published <i>Poems, with Translations
+from the German</i> (Philadelphia, 1864), another
+volume of <i>Poems</i> (1871); a translation of <i>Le Nabob,</i> by
+Alphonse Daudet (Boston, 1879); and <i>Under the
+Tricolor,</i> a novel (Philadelphia, 1880). She died August
+31, 1893.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem175" id="poem175">LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">There</span> is a shadow on the sunny air,</p>
+         <p class="i1">There is a darkness o'er the April day,</p>
+         <p class="i0">We bow our heads beneath this awful cloud</p>
+         <p class="i1">So sudden come, and not to pass away.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">O the wild grief that sweeps across our land</p>
+         <p class="i1">From frozen Maine to Californian shore!</p>
+         <p class="i0">A people's tears, an orphaned nation's wail,</p>
+         <p class="i1">For him the good, the great, who is no more.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">The noblest brain that ever toiled for man,</p>
+         <p class="i1">The kindest heart that ever thrilled a breast,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The lofty soul unstained by soil of earth,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Sent by a traitor to a martyr's rest.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">And his last act (O gentle, kindly heart!)</p>
+         <p class="i1">The noble prompting of unselfish grace.</p>
+         <p class="i0">He would not disappoint the waiting crowd</p>
+         <p class="i1">Who came to gaze upon his honored face.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">O God, thy ways are just, and yet we find</p>
+         <p class="i1">This dispensation hard to understand.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Why must our Prophet's weary feet be stay'd</p>
+         <p class="i1">Upon the borders of the Promised Land?</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">He bore the heat, the burden of the day,</p>
+         <p class="i1">The golden eventide he shall not see;</p>
+         <p class="i0">He shall not see the old flag wave again</p>
+         <p class="i1">Over a land united, saved, and free.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">He loved his people, and he ever lent</p>
+         <p class="i1">To all our griefs a sympathizing ear;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Now for the first time in these four sad years</p>
+         <p class="i1">The stricken nation wails&mdash;he does not hear.</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">O never wept a land a nobler Chief!</p>
+         <p class="i1">Kind heart, strong hand, true soul&mdash;yet, while we weep</p>
+         <p class="i0">Let us remember, e'en amid our tears,</p>
+         <p class="i1">'Tis God who gives to his beloved sleep.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">So sleeps he now, the chosen man of God,</p>
+         <p class="i1">No more shall care or sorrow wring his breast;</p>
+         <p class="i0">The weary one and heavy laden, lies</p>
+         <p class="i1">Hushed by the voice of God to endless rest.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">We need no solemn knell, no tolling bells,</p>
+         <p class="i1">No chanted dirge, no vain words sadly said.</p>
+         <p class="i0">The saddest knell that ever stirred the air</p>
+         <p class="i1">Rang in those words, "Our President is dead!"</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i178" id="i178"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 255px;">
+<a href="images/i178h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i178.jpg" width="255" height="184" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">PUBLIC VAULT, OAK RIDGE CEMETERY, SPRINGFIELD, ILL.,<br />
+On the day of Lincoln's funeral</p>
+
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> remains of President Lincoln were deposited
+in this receiving vault of Oak Ridge Cemetery,
+Springfield, Illinois, on the 4th of May, 1865,
+where they remained until December 21, 1865, when
+they were removed to a temporary vault near the site
+of the public one. On September 19, 1871, the remains
+were removed to the monument which had been erected
+and which stands on the top of the hill in that cemetery
+back of the public vault. The remains of Mrs. Lincoln,
+Willie and Thomas (Tad), are also resting there.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="poem179" id="poem179">LET THE PRESIDENT SLEEP</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm"><i>By James M. Stewart</i><br /></p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Let</span> the President sleep! all his duty is done,</p>
+         <p class="i0">He has lived for our glory, the triumph is won;</p>
+         <p class="i0">At the close of the fight, like a warrior brave,</p>
+         <p class="i0">He retires from the field to the rest of the grave.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Hush the roll of the drum, hush the cannon's loud roar,</p>
+         <p class="i0">He will guide us to peace through the battle no more;</p>
+         <p class="i0">But new freedom shall dawn from the place of his rest,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Where the star has gone down in the beautiful West.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Tread lightly, breathe softly, and gratefully bring</p>
+         <p class="i0">To the sod that enfolds him the first flowers of spring;</p>
+         <p class="i0">They will tenderly treasure the tears that we weep</p>
+         <p class="i0">O'er the grave of our chief&mdash;let the President sleep.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Let the President sleep&mdash;tears will hallow the ground,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Where we raise o'er his ashes the sheltering mound,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And his spirit will sometimes return from above,</p>
+         <p class="i0">There to mingle with ours in ineffable love.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Peace to thee, noble dead, thou hast battled for right,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And hast won high reward from the Father of Light;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Peace to thee, martyr-hero, and sweet be thy rest,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Where the sunlight fades out in the beautiful West.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Tread lightly, breathe softly, and gratefully bring</p>
+         <p class="i0">To the sod that enfolds him the first flowers of spring;</p>
+         <p class="i0">They will tenderly treasure the tears that we weep</p>
+         <p class="i0">O'er the grave of our chief&mdash;let the President sleep!</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i180" id="i180"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 188px;">
+<a href="images/i180h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i180.jpg" width="188" height="258" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">FACADE OF PUBLIC VAULT<br />
+Oak Ridge Cemetery, Springfield, Illinois, in which the body
+of Lincoln was placed, May 4, 1865</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">James Mackay</span>, born in New York, April 8, 1872.
+Author of <i>The Economy of Happiness,</i> <i>The Politics
+of Utility,</i> and of various lectures on Scientific
+Ethics, etc.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem181" id="poem181">THE CENOTAPH OF LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">And</span> so they buried Lincoln? Strange and vain</p>
+         <p class="i0">Has any creature thought of Lincoln hid</p>
+         <p class="i0">In any vault 'neath any coffin lid,</p>
+         <p class="i0">In all the years since that wild spring of pain?</p>
+         <p class="i0">'Tis false&mdash;he never in the grave hath lain.</p>
+         <p class="i0">You could not bury him although you slid</p>
+         <p class="i0">Upon his clay the Cheops Pyramid,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Or heaped it with the Rocky Mountain chain.</p>
+         <p class="i0">They slew themselves;&mdash;they but set Lincoln free.</p>
+         <p class="i0">In all the earth his great heart beats as strong,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Shall beat while pulses throb to chivalry,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And burn with hate of tyranny and wrong.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Whoever will may find him, anywhere</p>
+         <p class="i0">Save in the tomb. Not there&mdash;he is not there.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i182" id="i182"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 179px;">
+<a href="images/i182h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i182.jpg" width="179" height="204" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">LINCOLN MONUMENT<br />
+Springfield, Illinois, Larken G. Mead, Architect</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp1"><span class="dcap">A movement</span> was started shortly after the burial
+of Lincoln to raise funds sufficient to build a
+monument over his grave. Contributions were
+made by various States and societies, and about sixty
+thousand Sunday-school scholars contributed the sum
+of eighteen thousand dollars. Ground was broken
+on the 9th of September, 1869, and the monument was
+dedicated on the 15th of October, 1874, at a total cost
+of two hundred and thirty thousand dollars.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">James Judson Lord</span>, born at Berwick, Maine,
+in 1821. He had the advantage of an excellent
+early education followed by years of research.
+During his preparatory studies at Cambridge he met
+Longfellow, who loaned him books from his own library.
+For a time he studied art under prominent masters,
+but his health failing, after a time of forced leisure he
+went into the mercantile business in Boston, which
+vocation he afterward followed. In 1851 he went to
+Illinois; finally, after his marriage, settling in Springfield.
+There he knew Mr. Lincoln, with whom he was
+on terms of closest friendship.</p>
+
+<p>The poem submitted by Mr. Lord was selected for
+reading at the dedication of the National Lincoln
+Monument in a competition which brought contributions
+from many leading poets.</p>
+
+<p>He was the author of several dramas, and from time
+to time contributed poems to leading magazines and
+newspapers of the country. He died January 3, 1905.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="poem183" id="poem183">DEDICATION POEM</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm"><i>Read by Richard Edwards, LL.D., President Illinois
+State Normal University at Bloomington, Illinois</i></p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">We</span> build not here a temple or a shrine,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Nor hero-fane to demigods divine;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Nor to the clouds a superstructure rear</p>
+         <p class="i0">For man's ambition or for servile fear.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Not to the Dust, but to the Deeds alone</p>
+         <p class="i0">A grateful people raise th' historic stone;</p>
+         <p class="i0">For where a patriot lived, or hero fell,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The daisied turf would mark the spot as well.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">What though the Pyramids, with apex high,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Like Alpine peaks cleave Egypt's rainless sky,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And cast grim shadows o'er a desert land</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">Forever blighted by oppression's hand?</p>
+         <p class="i0">No patriot zeal their deep foundations <span style="white-space: nowrap;">laid&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">No freeman's hand their darken'd chambers <span style="white-space: nowrap;">made&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">No public weal inspired the heart with love,</p>
+         <p class="i0">To see their summits towering high above.</p>
+         <p class="i0">The ruling Pharaoh, proud and gory-stained,</p>
+         <p class="i0">With vain ambitions never yet <span style="white-space: nowrap;">attained;&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">With brow enclouded as his marble throne,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And heart unyielding as the building <span style="white-space: nowrap;">stone;&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">Sought with the scourge to make mankind his slaves,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And heaven's free sunlight darker than their graves.</p>
+         <p class="i0">His but to will, and theirs to yield and feel,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Like vermin'd dust beneath his iron <span style="white-space: nowrap;">heel;&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">Denies all mercy, and all right offends,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Till on his head th' avenging Plague descends.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Historic justice bids the nations know</p>
+         <p class="i0">That through each land of slaves a Nile of blood shall flow:</p>
+         <p class="i0">And Vendome Columns, on a people thrust,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Are, by the people, level'd with the dust.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Nor stone, nor bronze, can fit memorials yield</p>
+         <p class="i0">For deeds of valor on the bloody field,</p>
+         <p class="i0">'Neath war's dark clouds the sturdy volunteer,</p>
+         <p class="i0">By freedom taught his country to revere,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Bids home and friends a hasty, sad adieu,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And treads where dangers all his steps pursue;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Finds cold and famine on his dauntless way,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And with mute patience brooks the long delay,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Or hears the trumpet, or the thrilling drum</p>
+         <p class="i0">Peal the long roll that calls: "They come! they come!"</p>
+         <p class="i0">Then to the front with battling hosts he flies,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And lives to triumph, or for freedom dies.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Thund'ring amain along the rocky strand,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The Ocean claims her honors with the Land.</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">Loud on the gale she chimes the wild refrain,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Or with low murmur wails her heroes slain!</p>
+         <p class="i0">In gory hulks, with splinter'd mast and spar,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Rocks on her stormy breast the valiant <span style="white-space: nowrap;">Tar:&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">Lash'd to the mast he gives the high command,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Or midst the fight, sinks with the <i>Cumberland.</i></p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Beloved banner of the azure sky,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Thy rightful home where'er thy eagles fly;</p>
+         <p class="i0">On thy blue field the stars of heav'n descend,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And to our day a purer luster lend.</p>
+         <p class="i0">O, Righteous God! who guard'st the right alway,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And bade Thy peace to come, "and come to stay":</p>
+         <p class="i0">And while war's deluge fill'd the land with blood,</p>
+         <p class="i0">With bow of promise arch'd the crimson <span style="white-space: nowrap;">flood,&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">From fratricidal strife our banner screen,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And let it float henceforth in skies serene.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Yet cunning art shall here her triumphs bring,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And laurel'd bards their choicest anthems sing.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Here, honor'd age shall bare its wintery brow,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And youth to freedom make a Spartan vow.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Here, ripened manhood from its walks profound,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Shall come and halt, as if on hallow'd ground.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Here shall the urn with fragrant wreaths be drest,</p>
+         <p class="i0">By tender hands the flow'ry tributes prest;</p>
+         <p class="i0">And wending westward, from oppressions far,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Shall pilgrims come, led by our freedom-star;</p>
+         <p class="i0">While bending lowly, as o'er friendly pall,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The silent tear from ebon cheeks shall fall.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Sterile and vain the tributes which we <span style="white-space: nowrap;">pay&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">It is the Past that consecrates today</p>
+         <p class="i0">The spot where rests one of the noble few</p>
+         <p class="i0">Who saw the right, and dared the right to do.</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">True to himself and to his fellow men,</p>
+         <p class="i0">With patient hand he moved the potent pen,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Whose inky stream did, like the Red Sea's flow,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Such bondage break and such a host o'erthrow!</p>
+         <p class="i0">The simple parchment on its fleeting page</p>
+         <p class="i0">Bespeaks the import of the better <span style="white-space: nowrap;">age,&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">When man, for man, no more shall forge the chain,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Nor armies tread the shore, nor navies plow the main.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Then shall this boon to human freedom given</p>
+         <p class="i0">Be fitly deem'd a sacred gift of <span style="white-space: nowrap;">heaven;&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">Though of the earth, it is no less <span style="white-space: nowrap;">divine,&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">Founded on truth it will forever shine,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Reflecting rays from heaven's unchanging <span style="white-space: nowrap;">plan&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">The law of right and brotherhood of man.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Edna Dean Proctor</span>, born in Henniker, New
+Hampshire, October 10, 1838. She received her
+early education in Concord and subsequently
+removed to Brooklyn, New York. She contributed
+largely to magazine literature and has traveled extensively
+abroad. Of all her poems <i>By the Shenandoah</i> is
+probably the most popular.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem186" id="poem186">THE GRAVE OF LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Now</span> must the storied Potomac</p>
+         <p class="i1">Laurels forever divide;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Now to the Sangamon fameless</p>
+         <p class="i1">Give of its century's pride.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Sangamon, stream of the prairies,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Placidly westward that flows,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Far in whose city of silence</p>
+         <p class="i1">Calm he has sought his repose.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Over our Washington's river</p>
+         <p class="i1">Sunrise beams rosy and fair;</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">Sunset on Sangamon <span style="white-space: nowrap;">fairer,&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i1">Father and martyr lies there.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Break into blossom, O prairie!</p>
+         <p class="i1">Snowy and golden and red;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Peers of the Palestine lilies</p>
+         <p class="i1">Heap for your Glorious Dead!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Roses as fair as of Sharon,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Branches as stately as palm,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Odors as rich as the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">spices&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i1">Cassia and aloes and <span style="white-space: nowrap;">balm&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">Mary the loved and Salome,</p>
+         <p class="i1">All with a gracious accord,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Ere the first glow of the morning</p>
+         <p class="i1">Brought to the tomb of the Lord.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Not for thy sheaves nor savannas</p>
+         <p class="i1">Crown we thee, proud Illinois!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Here in his grave is thy grandeur;</p>
+         <p class="i1">Born of his sorrow thy joy.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Only the tomb by Mount Zion,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Hewn for the Lord, do we hold</p>
+         <p class="i0">Dearer than his in thy prairies,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Girdled with harvests of gold!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Still for the world through the ages</p>
+         <p class="i1">Wreathing with glory his brow,</p>
+         <p class="i0">He shall be Liberty's Saviour;</p>
+         <p class="i1">Freedom's Jerusalem thou!</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i188" id="i188"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 256px;">
+<a href="images/i188h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i188.jpg" width="256" height="311" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">STATUE OF LINCOLN<br />
+In Lincoln Park, Washington, D.&nbsp;C. Thomas Ball, sculptor.</p>
+
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> first contribution of five dollars for the statue
+in Lincoln Park, Washington, D.&nbsp;C., was made
+by a colored woman named Charlotte Scott, of
+Marietta, Ohio, the morning after the assassination
+of President Lincoln, and the entire cost of said monument,
+amounting to $17,000, was paid by subscriptions
+of colored people. It was unveiled April 14, 1876.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">James Russell Lowell</span>, born in Cambridge,
+Massachusetts, February 22, 1819. He received
+his degree in 1838, at Harvard, and his first production
+was a class poem which was delivered on that date.
+He was successor of Professor Longfellow in the chair
+of Modern Languages at Harvard College. In 1877 he
+was appointed by President Hayes to the Spanish
+Mission, from which he was transferred in 1880 to the
+Court of St. James. A long list of poetical works have
+been published to his credit. He died August 12, 1891.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem189" id="poem189">COMMEMORATION ODE</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Life</span> may be given in many ways,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And loyalty to Truth be sealed</p>
+         <p class="i1">As bravely in the closet as the field,</p>
+         <p class="i0">So bountiful is Fate;</p>
+         <p class="i1">But then to stand beside her,</p>
+         <p class="i1">When craven churls deride her,</p>
+         <p class="i0">To front a lie in arms and not to yield,</p>
+         <p class="i1">This shows, methinks, God's plan</p>
+         <p class="i1">And measures of a stalwart man,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Limbed like the old heroic breeds,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Who stand self-poised on manhood's solid earth;</p>
+         <p class="i1">Not forced to frame excuses for his birth,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Fed from within with all the strength he needs.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Such was he, our Martyr-Chief,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Whom late the Nation he had led,</p>
+         <p class="i1">With ashes on her head,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Wept with the passion of an angry grief;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Forgive me, if from present things I turn</p>
+         <p class="i0">To speak what in my heart will beat and burn,</p>
+         <p class="i0"><a name="trans189" id="trans189">And hang my wreath on his world-honored urn.</a></p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>
+         <p class="i1">Nature, they say, doth dote,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And cannot make a man</p>
+         <p class="i1">Save on some worn-out plan,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Repeating us by rote:</p>
+         <p class="i0">For him her Old World molds aside she threw,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And, choosing sweet clay from the breast</p>
+         <p class="i1">Of the unexhausted West,</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">With stuff untainted shaped a hero new,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Wise, steadfast in the strength of God, and true.</p>
+         <p class="i2">How beautiful to see</p>
+         <p class="i0">Once more a shepherd of mankind indeed,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Who loved his charge, but never loved to lead;</p>
+         <p class="i0">One whose meek flock the people joyed to be,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Not lured by any cheat of birth,</p>
+         <p class="i1">But by his clear-grained human worth,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And brave old wisdom of sincerity!</p>
+         <p class="i0">They knew that outward grace is dust;</p>
+         <p class="i0">They could not choose but trust</p>
+         <p class="i0">In that sure-footed mind's unfaltering skill,</p>
+         <p class="i2">And supple-tempered will</p>
+         <p class="i0">That bent like perfect steel to spring again and thrust!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">His was no lonely mountain-peak of mind,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Thrusting to thin air o'er our cloudy bars,</p>
+         <p class="i0">A sea-mark now, now lost in vapors blind;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Broad prairie rather, genial, level-lined,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Fruitful and friendly for all human kind,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Yet also nigh to heaven and loved of loftiest stars.</p>
+         <p class="i2">Nothing of Europe here,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Or, then, of Europe fronting mornward still,</p>
+         <p class="i2">Ere any names of Serf or Peer</p>
+         <p class="i1">Could Nature's equal scheme deface;</p>
+         <p class="i1">Here was a type of the true elder race,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And one of Plutarch's men talked with us face to face.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">I praise him not; it were too late;</p>
+         <p class="i1">And some innative weakness there must be</p>
+         <p class="i1">In him who condescends to victory</p>
+         <p class="i0">Such as the present gives, and cannot wait,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Safe in himself as in a fate.</p>
+         <p class="i2">So always firmly he;</p>
+         <p class="i0">He knew to bide his time,</p>
+         <p class="i2">And can his fame abide,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Still patient in his simple faith sublime,</p>
+         <p class="i2">Till the wise years decide.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Great captains, with their guns and drums,</p>
+         <p class="i2">Disturb our judgment for the hour,</p>
+         <p class="i0">But at last silence comes;</p>
+         <p class="i2">These are all gone, and, standing like a tower,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Our children shall behold his fame,</p>
+         <p class="i2">The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing man,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame,</p>
+         <p class="i2">New birth of our new soil, the first American.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i192" id="i192"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 184px;">
+<a href="images/i192h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i192.jpg" width="184" height="304" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">STATUE OF LINCOLN<br />
+By Leonard W. Volk</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Richard Henry Stoddard</span>, born in Hingham,
+Massachusetts, July 2, 1825. His first
+book, entitled <i>Foot Prints,</i> was published in 1849,
+and some three years after a more mature collection
+of poems was published. In later years a number of
+his books were published, all of which have been
+received with approbation by the public. Died May
+12, 1903.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="poem193" id="poem193">AN HORATIAN ODE</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm">(<i>To Lincoln</i>)</p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+    <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Not</span> as when some great captain falls</p>
+          <p class="i0">In battle, where his country calls,</p>
+          <p class="i1">Beyond the struggling lines</p>
+          <p class="i1">That push his dread designs</p>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">To doom, by some stray ball struck dead:</p>
+          <p class="i0">Or in the last charge, at the head</p>
+          <p class="i1">Of his determined men,</p>
+          <p class="i1">Who must be victors then!</p>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">Nor as when sink the civic great,</p>
+          <p class="i0">The safer pillars of the State,</p>
+          <p class="i1">Whose calm, mature, wise words</p>
+          <p class="i1">Suppress the need of swords!</p>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">With no such tears as e'er were shed</p>
+          <p class="i0">Above the noblest of our dead</p>
+          <p class="i1">Do we today deplore</p>
+          <p class="i1">The man that is no more.</p>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">Our sorrow hath a wider scope,</p>
+          <p class="i0">Too strange for fear, too vast for <span style="white-space: nowrap;">hope,&mdash;</span></p>
+          <p class="i1">A wonder, blind and dumb,</p>
+          <p class="i1">That waits&mdash;what is to come!</p>
+          <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">Not more astonished had we been</p>
+          <p class="i0">If madness, that dark night, unseen,</p>
+          <p class="i1">Had in our chambers crept,</p>
+          <p class="i1">And murdered while we slept!</p>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">We woke to find a mourning <span style="white-space: nowrap;">earth&mdash;</span></p>
+          <p class="i0">Our Lares shivered on the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">hearth,&mdash;</span></p>
+          <p class="i1">To roof-tree fallen&mdash;all</p>
+          <p class="i1">That could affright, appall!</p>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">Such thunderbolts, in other lands,</p>
+          <p class="i0">Have smitten the rod from royal hands,</p>
+          <p class="i1">But spared, with us, till now,</p>
+          <p class="i1">Each laureled Caesar's brow.</p>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">No Caesar he, whom we lament,</p>
+          <p class="i0">A man without a precedent,</p>
+          <p class="i1">Sent it would seem, to do</p>
+          <p class="i1">His work&mdash;and perish too!</p>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">Not by the weary cares of state,</p>
+          <p class="i0">The endless tasks, which will not wait,</p>
+          <p class="i1">Which, often done in vain,</p>
+          <p class="i1">Must yet be done again;</p>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">Not in the dark, wild tide of war,</p>
+          <p class="i0">Which rose so high, and rolled so far,</p>
+          <p class="i1">Sweeping from sea to sea</p>
+          <p class="i1">In awful <span style="white-space: nowrap;">anarchy;&mdash;</span></p>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">Four fateful years of mortal strife,</p>
+          <p class="i0">Which slowly drained the Nation's life,</p>
+          <p class="i1">(Yet, for each drop that ran</p>
+          <p class="i1">There sprang an armed man!)</p>
+          <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">Not then;&mdash;but when by measures <span style="white-space: nowrap;">meet&mdash;</span></p>
+          <p class="i0">By victory, and by defeat,</p>
+          <p class="i1">By courage, patience, skill,</p>
+          <p class="i1">The people's fixed "We will!"</p>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">Had pierced, had crushed rebellion <span style="white-space: nowrap;">dead&mdash;</span></p>
+          <p class="i0">Without a hand, without a <span style="white-space: nowrap;">head:&mdash;</span></p>
+          <p class="i1">At last, when all was well,</p>
+          <p class="i1">He fell&mdash;O, how he fell!</p>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">Tyrants have fallen by such as thou,</p>
+          <p class="i0">And good hath followed,&mdash;may it now!</p>
+          <p class="i1">(God lets bad instruments</p>
+          <p class="i1">Produce the best events.)</p>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0">But he, the man we mourn today,</p>
+          <p class="i0">No tyrant was; so mild a sway</p>
+          <p class="i1">In one such weight who bore</p>
+          <p class="i1">Was never known before!</p>
+    </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+    <div class="stanza">
+          <p class="i0"><i>From "Poems of Richard Henry Stoddard"</i></p>
+          <p class="i0 fsmcap">Copyright, 1880, by Charles Scribner's Sons.</p>
+
+    </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i196" id="i196"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 134px;">
+<a href="images/i196h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i196.jpg" width="134" height="181" alt="&quot;THE GOOD GRAY POET&quot; (Walt Whitman)" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption"></p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Walt Whitman</span>, born in West Hills, Long
+Island, New York, May 31, 1819. He was
+educated in the public schools of Brooklyn and
+New York City. Learned the printing trade at which
+he worked during the summer and taught school in
+winter. He made long pedestrian tours through the
+United States and even extended his tramps through
+Canada. His chief work, <i>Leaves of Grass,</i> is a series
+of poems through which he earned the praise of some
+and the abuse of others. He visited the army when a
+brother was wounded and remained afterward as a
+volunteer nurse. Died 1892.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="O_CAPTAIN" id="O_CAPTAIN">O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp1"><span class="dcap">O Captain</span>! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;</p>
+         <p class="i0">The ship has weather'd every wrack, the prize we sought is won;</p>
+         <p class="i0">The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,</p>
+         <p class="i0">While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel firm and daring;</p>
+      </div>
+      <div class="stanza" style="max-width: 16em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;">
+         <p class="i0">But O heart! heart! heart!</p>
+         <p class="i1">O the bleeding drops of red,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Where on the deck my Captain lies,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Fallen, cold and dead.</p>
+      </div>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Rise up&mdash;for you the flag is flung&mdash;for you the bugle trills;</p>
+         <p class="i0">For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths&mdash;for you the shores a-crowding;</p>
+         <p class="i0">For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>
+      </div>
+      <div class="stanza" style="max-width: 16em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;">
+         <p class="i0"><a name="trans223" id="trans223">Here, Captain! dear Father!</a></p>
+         <p class="i1">This arm beneath your head;</p>
+         <p class="i0">It is some dream that on the deck</p>
+         <p class="i1">You've fallen cold and dead.</p>
+      </div>
+      <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;</p>
+         <p class="i0">My Father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;</p>
+         <p class="i0">The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;</p>
+         <p class="i0">From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;</p>
+      </div>
+      <div class="stanza" style="max-width: 16em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;">
+         <p class="i0">Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!</p>
+         <p class="i1">But I, with mournful tread,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Walk the deck where my Captain lies,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Fallen, cold and dead.</p>
+      </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i199" id="i199"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 253px;">
+<a href="images/i199h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i199.jpg" width="253" height="332" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">STATUE OF LINCOLN<br />
+By Lott Flannery, in front of the Court House, Washington<br />
+Unveiled April 16, 1868</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Henry de Garrs</span>, of Sheffield, England, wrote
+these lines on the assassination of Abraham
+Lincoln in 1865. They were published in England
+in 1889, and later in America, in the <i>Century.</i></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem200" id="poem200">ON THE ASSASSINATION OF LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">What</span> dreadful rumor, hurtling o'er the sea,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Too monstrous for belief, assails our shore?</p>
+         <p class="i0">Men pause and question, Can such foul crime be?</p>
+         <p class="i0">Till lingering doubt may cling to hope no more.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Not when great Caesar weltered in his gore,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Nor since, in time, or circumstance, or place,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Hath crime so shook the World's great heart before.</p>
+         <p class="i0">O World! O World! of all thy records base,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Time wears no fouler scar on his time-smitten face.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">A king of men, inured to hardy toil,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Rose truly royal up the steeps of life,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Till Europe's monarchs seemed to dwarf the while</p>
+         <p class="i0">Beneath his greatness&mdash;great when traitors rife</p>
+         <p class="i0">Pierced deep his country's heart with treason-knife;</p>
+         <p class="i0">But greatest when victorious he stood,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Crowning with mercy freedom's greatest strife.</p>
+         <p class="i0">The world saw the new light of godlike good</p>
+         <p class="i0">Ere the assassin's hand shed his most precious blood.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Lament thy loss, sad sister of the West:</p>
+         <p class="i0">Not one, but many nations with thee weep;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Cherish thy martyr on thy wounded breast,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And lay him with thy Washington to sleep.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Earth holds no fitter sepulcher to keep</p>
+         <p class="i0">His royal heart&mdash;one of thy kings to be</p>
+         <p class="i0">Who reign even from the grave; whose scepters sweep</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">More potent over human destiny</p>
+         <p class="i0">Than all ambition's pride and power and majesty.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Yet, yet rejoice that thou hadst such a son;</p>
+         <p class="i0">The mother of such a man should never sigh;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Could longer life a nobler cause have won?</p>
+         <p class="i0">Could longest age more gloriously die?</p>
+         <p class="i0">Oh! lift thy heart, thy mind, thy soul on high</p>
+         <p class="i0">With deep maternal pride, that from thy womb</p>
+         <p class="i0">Came such a son to scourge hell's foulest lie</p>
+         <p class="i0">Out of life's temple. Watchers by his tomb!</p>
+         <p class="i0">He is not there, but risen: that grave is slavery's doom.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="poem201" id="poem201">POETICAL TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm"><i>By Emily J. Bugbee</i><br /></p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">There's</span> a burden of grief on the breezes of Spring,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And a song of regret from the bird on its wing;</p>
+         <p class="i0">There's a pall on the sunshine and over the flowers,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And a shadow of graves on these spirits of ours;</p>
+         <p class="i0">For a star hath gone out from the night of our sky,</p>
+         <p class="i0">On whose brightness we gazed as the war-cloud roll'd by;</p>
+         <p class="i0">So tranquil, and steady, and clear were its beams,</p>
+         <p class="i0">That they fell like a vision of peace on our dreams.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">A heart that we knew had been true to our weal,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And a hand that was steadily guiding the wheel;</p>
+         <p class="i0">A name never tarnished by falsehood or wrong,</p>
+         <p class="i0">That had dwelt in our hearts like a soul-stirring song.</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">Ah! that pure, noble spirit has gone to its rest,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And the true hand lies nerveless and cold on his breast;</p>
+         <p class="i0">But the name and the memory&mdash;<i>these</i> never will die,</p>
+         <p class="i0">But grow brighter and dearer as ages go by.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Yet the tears of a Nation fall over the dead,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Such tears as a Nation before never shed;</p>
+         <p class="i0">For our cherished one fell by a dastardly hand,</p>
+         <p class="i0">A martyr to truth and the cause of the land;</p>
+         <p class="i0">And a sorrow has surged, like the waves to the shore,</p>
+         <p class="i0">When the breath of the tempest is sweeping them o'er,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And the heads of the lofty and lowly have bowed,</p>
+         <p class="i0">As the shaft of the lightning sped out from the cloud.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Not gathered, like Washington, home to his rest,</p>
+         <p class="i0">When the sun of his life was far down in the West;</p>
+         <p class="i0">But stricken from earth in the midst of his years,</p>
+         <p class="i0">With the Canaan in view, of his prayers and his tears.</p>
+         <p class="i0">And the people, whose hearts in the wilderness failed,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Sometimes, when the star of their promise had paled,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Now, stand by his side on the mount of his fame,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And yield him their hearts in a grateful acclaim.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i203" id="i203"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 226px;">
+<a href="images/i203h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i203.jpg" width="226" height="302" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">STATUE OF LINCOLN<br />
+Muskegon, Michigan, Charles Niehaus, sculptor</p>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">John Nichol</span>, born at Montrose, Forfarshire,
+Scotland, September 8, 1833. He was a professor
+of English Literature at the University of Glasgow
+(1861-1889), and did much to make American books
+popular in England. His numerous publications include:
+<i>Leaves</i> (1854), verse; <i>Tables of European History,
+200-1876 A.D.</i> (1876); fourth edition (1888);
+<i>Byron in English Men of Letters series;</i> <i>American
+Literature, 1520-1880</i> (1882). He was an ardent advocate
+of the Northern cause during the Civil War,
+and visited the United States at the close of the conflict.
+He died at London, England, October 11, 1894.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem204" id="poem204">LINCOLN, 1865</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">An</span> end at last! The echoes of the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">war&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i1">The weary war beyond the Western <span style="white-space: nowrap;">waves&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">Die in the distance. Freedom's rising star</p>
+         <p class="i1">Beacons above a hundred thousand graves;</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">The graves of heroes who have won the fight,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Who in the storming of the stubborn town</p>
+         <p class="i0">Have rung the marriage peal of might and right,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And scaled the cliffs and cast the dragon down.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">P�ans of armies thrill across the sea,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Till Europe answers&mdash;"Let the struggle cease.</p>
+         <p class="i0">The bloody page is turned; the next may be</p>
+         <p class="i1">For ways of pleasantness and paths of peace!"</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">A golden morn&mdash;a dawn of better <span style="white-space: nowrap;">things&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i1">The olive-branch&mdash;clasping of hands <span style="white-space: nowrap;">again&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">A noble lesson read to conquered <span style="white-space: nowrap;">kings&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i1">A sky that tempests had not scoured in vain.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">This from America we hoped and him</p>
+         <p class="i1">Who ruled her "in the spirit of his creed."</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">Does the hope last when all our eyes are dim,</p>
+         <p class="i1">As history records her darkest deed?</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">The pilot of his people through the strife,</p>
+         <p class="i1">With his strong purpose turning scorn to praise,</p>
+         <p class="i0">E'en at the close of battle reft of life</p>
+         <p class="i1">And fair inheritance of quiet days.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Defeat and triumph found him calm and just,</p>
+         <p class="i1">He showed how clemency should temper power,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And, dying, left to future times in trust</p>
+         <p class="i1">The memory of his brief victorious hour.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">O'ermastered by the irony of fate,</p>
+         <p class="i1">The last and greatest martyr of his cause;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Slain like Achilles at the Sc�an gate,</p>
+         <p class="i1">He saw the end, and fixed "the purer laws."</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">May these endure and, as his work, attest</p>
+         <p class="i1">The glory of his honest heart and <span style="white-space: nowrap;">hand&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">The simplest, and the bravest, and the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">best&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i1">The Moses and the Cromwell of his land.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Too late the pioneers of modern spite,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Awe-stricken by the universal gloom,</p>
+         <p class="i0">See his name lustrous in Death's sable night,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And offer tardy tribute at his tomb.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">But we who have been with him all the while,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Who knew his worth, and loved him long ago,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Rejoice that in the circuit of our isle</p>
+         <p class="i1">There is at last no room for Lincoln's foe.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i206" id="i206"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 253px;">
+<a href="images/i206h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i206.jpg" width="253" height="170" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption vsm vbsm">LINCOLN AND CABINET</p>
+<p class="cption vsm vbsm">"The First Reading of the Emancipation Proclamation."<br />
+Painted by Frank B. Carpenter.</p>
+<p class="cption vsm" style="text-align: left;">
+From left to right&mdash;Edwin M. Stanton, Secretary of War; Salmon P. Chase,
+Secretary of the Treasury; President Lincoln; Gideon Welles, Secretary of the
+Navy; William H. Seward, Secretary of State; J.&nbsp;P. Usher, Secretary of the
+Interior; Montgomery Blair, Postmaster-General; Edward Bates, Attorney-General</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Christopher Pearse Cranch</span>, born in
+Alexandria, Virginia, March 8, 1813. Graduated
+at the school of Divinity, Cambridge, Massachusetts,
+in 1835, but retired from the ministry in 1842
+to devote himself to art. He studied in Italy in 1846-8,
+and lived and painted in 1853-63, and, returning to
+New York, was elected a member of the National
+Academy in 1864. He was a graceful writer of both
+prose and verse.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem206" id="poem206">LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">But</span> yesterday&mdash;the exulting nation's shout</p>
+         <p class="i1">Swelled on the breeze of victory through our streets,</p>
+         <p class="i0">But yesterday&mdash;our banners flaunted out</p>
+         <p class="i1">Like flowers the south wind woos from their retreats;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Flowers of the nation, blue, and white, and red,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Waving from balcony, and spire, and mast;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Which told us that war's wintry storm had fled,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And spring was more than spring to us at last.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Today the nation's heart lies crushed and weak;</p>
+         <p class="i1">Drooping and draped in black our banners stand.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Too stunned to cry revenge, we scarce may speak</p>
+         <p class="i1">The grief that chokes all utterance through the land.</p>
+         <p class="i0">God is in all. With tears our eyes are dim,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Yet strive through darkness to look to Him!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">No, not in vain he died&mdash;not all in vain,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Our good, great President! This people's hands</p>
+         <p class="i0">Are linked together in one mighty chain</p>
+         <p class="i1">Drawn tighter still in triple-woven bands</p>
+         <p class="i0">To crush the fiends in human masks, whose might</p>
+         <p class="i1">We suffer, oh, too long! No league, nor truce</p>
+         <p class="i0">Save men with men! The devils we must fight</p>
+         <p class="i1">With fire! God wills it in this deed. This use</p>
+         <p class="i0">We draw from the most impious murder done</p>
+         <p class="i1">Since Calvary. Rise then, O Countrymen!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Scatter these marsh-lights hopes of Union won</p>
+         <p class="i1">Through pardoning clemency. Strike, strike again!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Draw closer round the foe a girdling flame.</p>
+         <p class="i1">We are stabbed whene'er we spare&mdash;strike in God's name!</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i208" id="i208"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 197px;">
+<a href="images/i208h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i208.jpg" width="197" height="257" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">STATUE OF LINCOLN<br />
+Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Randolph Rogers,
+sculptor. Unveiled November 26, 1869</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">George Henry Boker</span>, born in Philadelphia,
+Pennsylvania, on the 6th day of October, 1823.
+Graduated at Princeton in 1842, and afterward
+studied law. In the year 1847, after his return from an
+extended tour in Europe, he published <i>The Lessons of
+Life and Other Poems.</i> He also produced a number of
+plays which were successfully produced upon the stage,
+both in England and America. During the War of the
+Rebellion he wrote a number of patriotic lyrics, collected
+and published in a volume under the title of
+<i>Poems of the War.</i> He has also written other poems
+and articles in prose which have received high praise.</p>
+
+<p>In the year 1871 he was appointed by President
+Grant as our United States Minister to Turkey, but
+in 1875 was transferred to the more important Mission
+of Russia.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem208" id="poem208">LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Crown</span> we our heroes with a holier wreath</p>
+         <p class="i0">Than man e'er wore upon this side of death;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Mix with their laurels deathless asphodels,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And chime their p�ans from the sacred bells!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Nor in your praises forget the martyred Chief,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Fallen for the gospel of your own belief,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Who, ere he mounted to the people's throne,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Asked for your prayers, and joined in them his own.</p>
+         <p class="i0">I knew the man. I see him, as he stands</p>
+         <p class="i0">With gifts of mercy in his outstretched hands;</p>
+         <p class="i0">A kindly light within his gentle eyes,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Sad as the toil in which his heart grew wise;</p>
+         <p class="i0">His lips half parted with the constant smile</p>
+         <p class="i0">That kindled truth, but foiled the deepest guile;</p>
+         <p class="i0">His head bent forward, and his willing ear</p>
+         <p class="i0">Divinely patient right and wrong to hear:</p>
+         <p class="i0">Great in his goodness, humble in his state,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Firm in his purpose, yet not passionate,</p>
+         <p class="i0">He led his people with a tender hand,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And won by love a sway beyond command.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Summoned by lot to mitigate a time</p>
+         <p class="i0">Frenzied with rage, unscrupulous with crime,</p>
+         <p class="i0">He bore his mission with so meek a heart</p>
+         <p class="i0">That Heaven itself took up his people's part;</p>
+         <p class="i0">And when he faltered, helped him ere he fell,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Eking his efforts out by miracle.</p>
+         <p class="i0">No king this man, by grace of God's intent;</p>
+         <p class="i0">No, something better, freeman,&mdash;President!</p>
+         <p class="i0">A nature modeled on a higher plan,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Lord of himself, an inborn gentleman!</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i210" id="i210"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 179px;">
+<a href="images/i210h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i210.jpg" width="179" height="257" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">ABRAHAM LINCOLN<br />
+Photo by Brady, 1864</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Phoebe Cary</span> was born near Cincinnati, Ohio,
+September 24, 1824. Her advantages for education
+were somewhat better than those of her sister Alice,
+whose almost inseparable companion she became at
+an early age. They were quite different, however,
+in temperament, in person and in mental constitution.
+Phoebe began to write verse at the age of seventeen
+years, and one of her earliest poems, <i>Nearer Home,</i>
+beginning with "One sweetly solemn thought," won her
+a world-wide reputation. In the joint housekeeping in
+New York she took from choice (Alice being for many
+years an invalid) the larger share of duties upon herself,
+and hence found little opportunity for literary work.
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>
+In society, however, she was brilliant, but at all times
+kindly. She wrote a touching tribute to her sister's
+memory, published in the <i>Ladies' Repository</i> a few days
+before her own death, which occurred at Newport, R.&nbsp;I.,
+July 31, 1871. In the volume of <i>Poems of Alice and
+Phoebe Cary</i> (Philadelphia, 1850) but about one-third
+were written by Phoebe. Her independently published
+books are <i>Poems and Parodies</i> (1854), and <i>Poems of
+Faith, Hope and Love</i> (1868).</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem210" id="poem210">ABRAHAM LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Our</span> sun hath gone down at the noonday,</p>
+         <p class="i1">The heavens are black;</p>
+         <p class="i0">And over the morning the shadows</p>
+         <p class="i1">Of night-time are back.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Stop the proud boasting mouth of the cannon,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Hush the mirth and the shout;</p>
+         <p class="i0">God is God! and the ways of Jehovah</p>
+         <p class="i1">Are past finding out.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Lo! the beautiful feet on the mountains,</p>
+         <p class="i1">That yesterday stood;</p>
+         <p class="i0">The white feet that came with glad tidings</p>
+         <p class="i1">Are dabbled in blood.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">The Nation that firmly was settling</p>
+         <p class="i1">The crown on her head,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Sits, like Rizpah, in sackcloth and ashes,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And watches her dead.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Who is dead? who, unmoved by our wailing</p>
+         <p class="i1">Is lying so low?</p>
+         <p class="i0">O, my Land, stricken dumb in your anguish,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Do you feel, do you know?</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Once this good man we mourn, overwearied,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Worn, anxious, oppressed,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Was going out from his audience chamber</p>
+         <p class="i1">For a season to rest;</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Unheeding the thousands who waited</p>
+         <p class="i1">To honor and greet,</p>
+         <p class="i0">When the cry of a child smote upon him</p>
+         <p class="i1">And turned back his feet.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">"Three days hath a woman been waiting,"</p>
+         <p class="i1">Said they, "patient and meek."</p>
+         <p class="i0">And he answered, "Whatever her errand,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Let me hear; let her speak!"</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">So she came, and stood trembling before him</p>
+         <p class="i1">And pleaded her cause;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Told him all; how her child's erring father</p>
+         <p class="i1">Had broken the laws.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Humbly spake she: "I mourn for his folly,</p>
+         <p class="i1">His weakness, his fall";</p>
+         <p class="i0">Proudly spake she: "he is not a <span class="smcap">Traitor,</span></p>
+         <p class="i1">And I love him through all!"</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Then the great man, whose heart had been shaken</p>
+         <p class="i1">By a little babe's cry;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Answered soft, taking counsel of mercy,</p>
+         <p class="i1">"This man shall not die!"</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Why, he heard from the dungeons, the rice-fields,</p>
+         <p class="i1">The dark holds of ships;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Every faint, feeble cry which oppression</p>
+         <p class="i1">Smothered down on men's lips.</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">In her furnace, the centuries had welded</p>
+         <p class="i1">Their fetter and chain;</p>
+         <p class="i0">And like withes, in the hands of his purpose,</p>
+         <p class="i1">He snapped them in twain.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Who can be what he was to the people;</p>
+         <p class="i1">What he was to the State?</p>
+         <p class="i0">Shall the ages bring to us another</p>
+         <p class="i1">As good and as great?</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Our hearts with their anguish are broken,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Our wet eyes are dim;</p>
+         <p class="i0">For us is the loss and the sorrow,</p>
+         <p class="i1">The triumph for him!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">For, ere this, face to face with his Father</p>
+         <p class="i1">Our Martyr hath stood;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Giving into his hand the white record</p>
+         <p class="i1">With its great seal of blood!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">That the hand which reached out of the darkness</p>
+         <p class="i1">Hath taken the whole?</p>
+         <p class="i0">Yea, the arm and the head of the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">people&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i1">The heart and the soul!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">And that heart, o'er whose dread awful silence</p>
+         <p class="i1">A nation has wept;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Was the truest, and gentlest, and sweetest</p>
+         <p class="i1">A man ever kept!</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i214" id="i214"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 235px;">
+<a href="images/i214h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i214.jpg" width="235" height="316" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">STATUE OF LINCOLN<br />
+By Augustus Saint Gaudens, in Lincoln Park, Chicago, Illinois</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">On</span> the 22nd of October, 1887, this statue by Saint
+Gaudens was unveiled, Mr. Eli Bates donating
+$40,000 for that purpose. There is a vast oval
+of cut stone, thirty by sixty feet, the interior fashioned
+to form a classic bench, and the statue stands on a
+stone pedestal. The sculptor represents him as an
+orator, just risen from his chair, which is shown behind
+him, and waiting for the audience to become quiet before
+beginning his speech. The attitude is that always
+assumed by Lincoln at the beginning&mdash;one hand behind
+him, and the other grasping the lapel of his coat.
+He appears the very incarnation of rugged grandeur
+which held the master mind of this age.</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Charles Graham Halpin</span> (Miles O'Reilly)
+was born near Oldcastle, County of Meath, Ireland,
+November 20, 1829. Graduated from Trinity
+College, Dublin, in 1846. He entered the field of
+journalism as a profession and soon gained a reputation
+in England. Came to New York in 1852 and secured
+employment with the <i>Herald,</i> was later connected with
+other papers. Enlisted in April, 1861, and became
+lieutenant of Colonel Corcoran's 69th Regiment, rising
+to the rank of brigadier-general. He died in New York
+City, August 3, 1868.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem215" id="poem215">LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">He</span> <a name="trans216a" id="trans216a">filled the Nation's eyes and heart,</a></p>
+         <p class="i1">An honored, loved, familiar name;</p>
+         <p class="i1">So much a brother that his fame</p>
+         <p class="i0">Seemed of our lives a common part.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">His towering figure, sharp and spare,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Was with such nervous tension strung,</p>
+         <p class="i1">As if on each strained sinew swung</p>
+         <p class="i0">The burden of a people's care.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">His changing face, what pen can <span style="white-space: nowrap;">draw&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i1"><a name="trans216b" id="trans216b">Pathetic, kindly, droll or stern;</a></p>
+         <p class="i1">And with a glance so quick to learn</p>
+         <p class="i0">The inmost truth of all he saw.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Pride found no place to spawn</p>
+         <p class="i1">Her fancies in his busy mind.</p>
+         <p class="i1">His worth, like health or air, could find</p>
+         <p class="i0">No just appraisal till withdrawn.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">He was his country's&mdash;not his own;</p>
+         <p class="i1">He had no wish but for the weak,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Nor for himself could think or feel,</p>
+         <p class="i0">But as a laborer for her throne.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Her flag upon the heights of <span style="white-space: nowrap;">power&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i1">Stainless and unassayed to place,</p>
+         <p class="i1">To this one end his earnest face</p>
+         <p class="i0">Was bent through every burdened hour.</p>
+   </div>
+      <p><span class="tbdots"><b>&nbsp;.....</b></span></p>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">But done the battle&mdash;won the strife;</p>
+         <p class="i1">When torches light his vaulted tomb,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Broad gems flash out and crowns illume</p>
+         <p class="i0">The clay-cold brow undecked in life.</p>
+   </div>
+      <p><span class="tbdots"><b>&nbsp;.....</b></span></p>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">O, loved and lost! Thy patient toil</p>
+         <p class="i1">Had robed our cause in victory's light;</p>
+         <p class="i1">Our country stood redeemed and bright,</p>
+         <p class="i0">With not a slave on all her soil.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">'Mid peals of bells and cannon's bark,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And shouting streets with flags abloom,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Sped the shrill arrow of thy doom,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And, in an instant, all was dark!</p>
+   </div>
+      <p><span class="tbdots"><b>&nbsp;.....</b></span></p>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">A martyr to the cause of man,</p>
+         <p class="i1">His blood is Freedom's Eucharist,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And in the world's great hero list</p>
+         <p class="i0">His name shall lead the van.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Yes! ranked on Faith's white wings unfurled</p>
+         <p class="i1">In Heaven's pure light, of him we say,</p>
+         <p class="i1">"He fell on the self-same day</p>
+         <p class="i0">A Greater died to save the world."</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i218" id="i218"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 255px;">
+<a href="images/i218h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i218.jpg" width="255" height="333" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">TABLET AT PHILADELPHIA<br />
+Unveiled February 21, 1903</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">He</span> who seeks the embodiment of the genius of the
+Union finds it in the apotheosis of the Great Emancipator.
+There, under the arching skies he stands,
+erect, serene, resplendent; beneath his feet the broken
+shackles of a race redeemed; upon his brow the diadem
+of liberty with law, while around and behind him rise
+up, as an eternal guard of honor, the great army of the
+Republic.</p>
+
+<p>In the belief that from the martyr's bier as from the
+battlefield of right it is but one step to paradise, may
+we not, on days like this, draw back the veil that
+separates from our mortal gaze the phantom squadrons
+as they pass again in grand review before their "Martyr
+President."&mdash;<i>From an address by Hiram F. Stevens,
+read before the Minnesota Commandery of the Loyal
+Legion.</i></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem219" id="poem219">THE MARTYR PRESIDENT</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">In</span> solid platoons of steel,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Under heaven's triumphant arch,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The long lines break and wheel,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And the order is "Forward, March!"</p>
+         <p class="i0">The colors ripple o'erhead,</p>
+         <p class="i1">The drums roll up to the sky,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And with martial time and tread</p>
+         <p class="i1">The regiments all pass <span style="white-space: nowrap;">by&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">The ranks of the faithful dead</p>
+         <p class="i1">Meeting their president's eye.</p>
+         <p class="i0">March on, your last brave mile!</p>
+         <p class="i1">Salute him, star and lace!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Form 'round him, rank and file,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And look on the kind, rough face.</p>
+         <p class="i0">But the quaint and homely smile</p>
+         <p class="i1">Has a glory and a grace</p>
+         <p class="i0">It has never known erstwhile,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Never in time or space.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Close 'round him, hearts of pride!</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">Press near him, side by side!</p>
+         <p class="i1">For he stands there not alone.</p>
+         <p class="i0">For the holy right he died,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And Christ, the crucified,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Waits to welcome his own.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="poem220" id="poem220">ABRAHAM LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm"><i>Written for the Lincoln Memorial Album, by Eugene
+J. Hall, 1882.</i><br /></p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp1"><span class="dcap">O honored</span> name, revered and undecaying,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Engraven on each heart, O soul sublime!</p>
+         <p class="i0">That, like a planet through the heavens straying,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Outlives the wreck of time!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">O rough, strong soul, your noble self-possession</p>
+         <p class="i1">Is unforgotten. Still your work remains.</p>
+         <p class="i0">You freed from bondage and from vile oppression</p>
+         <p class="i1">A race in clanking chains.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">O furrowed face, beloved by all the nation!</p>
+         <p class="i1">O tall gaunt form, to memory fondly dear!</p>
+         <p class="i0">O firm, bold hand, our strength and our salvation!</p>
+         <p class="i1">O heart that knew no fear!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Lincoln, your manhood shall survive forever,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Shedding a fadeless halo round your name;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Urging men on, with wise and strong endeavor,</p>
+         <p class="i1">To bright and honest fame!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Through years of care, to rest and joy a stranger,</p>
+         <p class="i1">You saw complete the work you had begun,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Thoughtless of threats, nor heeding death or danger,</p>
+         <p class="i1">You toiled till all was done.</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">You freed the bondman from his iron master,</p>
+         <p class="i1">You broke the strong and cruel chains he wore,</p>
+         <p class="i0">You saved the Ship of State from foul disaster</p>
+         <p class="i1">And brought her safe to shore.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">You fell! An anxious nation's hopes seemed blighted,</p>
+         <p class="i1">While millions shuddered at your dreadful fall;</p>
+         <p class="i0">But <i>God is good!</i> His wondrous hand has righted</p>
+         <p class="i1">And reunited all.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">You fell, but in your death you were victorious;</p>
+         <p class="i1">To moulder in the tomb your form has gone,</p>
+         <p class="i0">While through the world your great soul grows more glorious</p>
+         <p class="i1">As years go gliding on!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">All hail, great Chieftain! Long will sweetly cluster</p>
+         <p class="i1">A thousand memories round your sacred name,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Nor time, nor death shall dim the spotless luster</p>
+         <p class="i1">That shines upon your fame.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i222" id="i222"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 169px;">
+<a href="images/i222h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i222.jpg" width="169" height="255" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">STATUE OF LINCOLN<br />
+By Vinnie Ream, rotunda of the Capitol, Washington, D.&nbsp;C.</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Samuel Francis Smith</span>, clergyman, born in
+Boston, Massachusetts, October 21, 1808. Attended
+the Boston Latin School in 1820-5, and was
+graduated at Harvard in 1829 and at Andover Theological
+Seminary in 1832. Was ordained to the ministry
+of the Baptist Church at Waterville, Maine, in 1834,
+where he occupied pastorates from 1834 until 1842,
+and at Newton, Massachusetts, 1842 to 1854. Was
+professor of languages in Waterville College while
+residing in that city, and there he also received the degree
+of D.D. in 1854.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He has done a large amount of literary work, mainly
+in the line of hymnology, his most popular composition
+being our national hymn, <i>My Country, 'Tis of Thee,</i>
+which was written while he was a theological student,
+and first sung at a children's celebration in the Park
+Street Church, Boston, July 4, 1832. <i>The Morning
+Light is Breaking,</i> was also written at the same place
+and time. His classmate, Oliver Wendell Holmes, in
+his reunion poem entitled <i>The Boys,</i> thus refers to him:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">"And there's a nice youngster of excellent pith;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith!</p>
+         <p class="i0">But he chanted a song for the brave and the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">free&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">Just read on his medal, 'My Country, of Thee!'"</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<p>The following poem was written expressly for the exercises held on the
+Nineteenth Anniversary of President Lincoln's death, at his tomb, Springfield,
+Illinois, April 15, 1884.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem222" id="poem222">THE TOMB OF LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Grandeur</span> and glory await around the bed</p>
+         <p class="i0">Where sleeps in lowly peace the illustrious dead;</p>
+         <p class="i0">He rose a meteor, upon wondering men,</p>
+         <p class="i0">But rose in strength, never to set again.</p>
+         <p class="i0">A king of men, though born in lowly state,</p>
+         <p class="i0">A man sincerely good and nobly great;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Tender, but firm; faithful and kind, and true,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The Nation's choice, the Nation's Saviour, too;</p>
+         <p class="i0">When Liberty and Truth shall reign for evermore,</p>
+         <p class="i0">From Oregon to Florida's perpetual May,</p>
+         <p class="i0">From Shasta's awful peak to Massachusetts <span style="white-space: nowrap;">Bay,&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">Then our children's children, by the cottage door,</p>
+         <p class="i0">In the schoolroom, from the pulpit, at the bar,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Shall look up to thee as to a beacon star,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And deduce the lesson from thy life and death,</p>
+         <p class="i0">That the patriot's lofty courage and the Christian's faith</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">Conquer honors that outweigh ambition's gaudiest prize,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Triumph o'er the grave, and open the gates of Paradise.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Schooled through life's early hardships to endure,</p>
+         <p class="i0">To raise the oppressed, to save and shield the poor;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Prudent in counsel, honest in debate,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Patient to hear and judge, patient to wait;</p>
+         <p class="i0">The calm, the wise, the witty and the proved,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Whom millions honored, and whom millions loved;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Swayed by no baleful lust of pride or power,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The shining pageants of the passing hour,</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Led by no scheming arts, no selfish aim,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Ambitious for no pomp, nor wealth, nor fame,</p>
+         <p class="i0">No planning hypocrite, no pliant tool,</p>
+         <p class="i0">A high-born patriot, of Heaven's noblest school;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Cool and unshaken in the maddest storm,</p>
+         <p class="i0">For in the clouds he traced the Almighty's form;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Worn with the weary heart and aching head,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Worse than the picket, with his ceaseless tread,</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">He kept&mdash;as bound by some resistless <span style="white-space: nowrap;">fate&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">His broad, strong hand upon the helm of State;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Nor turned, in fear, his heart or hope away,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Till on the field his tent a ruin lay.</p>
+         <p class="i0">His tent, a ruin; but the owner's name</p>
+         <p class="i0">Stands on the pinnacle of human fame,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Inscribed in lines of light, and nations see,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Through him, the people's life and liberty.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">What high ideas, what noble acts he taught!</p>
+         <p class="i0">To make men free in life, and limb, and thought,</p>
+         <p class="i0">To rise, to soar, to scorn the oppressor's rod,</p>
+         <p class="i0">To live in grander life, to live for God;</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">To stand for justice, freedom and the right,</p>
+         <p class="i0">To dare the conflict, strong in God's own might;</p>
+         <p class="i0">The methods taught by Him, by him were tried,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And he, to conscience true, a martyr died.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">As the great sun pursues his heavenly way</p>
+         <p class="i0">And fills with life and joy the livelong day,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Till, the full journey, in glory dressed,</p>
+         <p class="i0">He seeks his crimson couch beneath the west;</p>
+         <p class="i0">So, with his labor done, our hero sleeps;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Above his tomb a ransomed Nation weeps;</p>
+         <p class="i0">And grateful p�ans o'er his ashes <span style="white-space: nowrap;">rise&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">Dear is his fame&mdash;his glory never dies.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Bring flowers, fresh flowers, bring plumes with nodding crests,</p>
+         <p class="i0">To wreath the tomb where our great hero rests;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Bring pipe and tabret, eloquence and song,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And sound the loving tribute, loud and long;</p>
+         <p class="i0">A Nation bows, and mourns his honored name,</p>
+         <p class="i0">A Nation proudly keeps his deathless fame;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Let vale and rock, and hill, and land, and sea</p>
+         <p class="i0">His memory swell&mdash;the anthem of the free.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i226" id="i226"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 274px;">
+<a href="images/i226h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i226.jpg" width="274" height="327" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">STATUE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN<br />
+On the State Capitol Grounds at Lincoln, Nebraska. Unveiled September 2, 1912.
+Daniel Chester French, sculptor</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">John Townsend Trowbridge</span>, born September
+18, 1827, in Ogden, New York. He lived
+the ordinary life of a country boy, going to school
+six months in the year till he was fourteen, after which
+he had to work on the farm in summer. His books had
+more interest to him than his work, and he managed
+to learn more out of school than in it. At sixteen he
+wrote articles in verse and prose for magazines and
+journals. He was a contributor to the <i>Atlantic Monthly.</i></p>
+
+<p>During the great rebellion, he wrote several stories
+of the war: <i>The Drummer Boy,</i> 1863, and <i>The Three
+Scouts,</i> 1865. On the return of peace he spent some
+four months in the principal southern States, for the
+purpose of gaining accurate views of the condition of
+society there after the war. He published the result
+of these observations June, 1866, in a volume entitled,
+<i>The South.</i> A collected edition of his poems was published
+in 1869, entitled <i>The Vagabonds, and Other
+Poems.</i></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem227" id="poem227">LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Heroic</span> soul, in homely garb half hid,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Sincere, sagacious, melancholy, quaint;</p>
+         <p class="i0">What he endured, no less than what he did,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Has reared his monument, and crowned him saint.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i228" id="i228"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 206px;">
+<a href="images/i228h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i228.jpg" width="206" height="326" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">STATUE OF LINCOLN<br />
+Burlington, Wisconsin. George E. Ganiere, sculptor<br />
+Unveiled October 13, 1913</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Kinahan Cornwallis</span> was born in London,
+England, December 24, 1839. Entered British
+Colonial Civil Service; two years at Melbourne,
+Australia. Located in New York in 1860, one of the
+editors and correspondent of the <i>Herald.</i> Accompanied
+the Prince of Wales on his American tour. Admitted
+to the New York bar in 1863; financial editor and
+general editorial writer of <i>New York Herald,</i> 1860-69.
+Editor and proprietor of <i>The Knickerbocker Magazine,</i>
+afterward of <i>The Albion.</i> Since 1886 editor and proprietor
+<i>Wall Street Daily Investigator,</i> now <i>Wall Street
+Daily Investor.</i> Author of <i>Howard Plunkett</i> (a novel);
+an Australian poem, 1857. The <i>New Eldorado, or
+British Columbia</i> (Travels); <i>Two Journeys to Japan;</i>
+<i>A Panorama of the New World;</i> <i>Wreck and Ruin, or
+Modern Society</i> (novel); <i>My Life and Adventures</i>
+(story), 1859, also of many other histories and novels.
+Among his poet productions are <i>The Song of America
+and Columbus,</i> 1892; <i>The Conquest of Mexico and
+Peru,</i> 1893; <i>The War for the Union, or the Duel Between
+North and South,</i> 1899.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem229" id="poem229">HOMAGE DUE TO LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Well</span> may we all to Lincoln homage pay,</p>
+         <p class="i0">For patriotic duty points the way,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And tells the story of the debt we <span style="white-space: nowrap;">owe&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">A debt of gratitude that all should know;</p>
+         <p class="i0">And ne'er will perish that historic tale.</p>
+         <p class="i0">To him, the Union's great defender, hail!</p>
+         <p class="i0">Through battling years he steered the ship of state,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And ever proved a captain just and great.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Through storm and tempest, and unnumbered woes,</p>
+         <p class="i0">While oft assailed in fury by his foes,</p>
+         <p class="i0">He held his course, and triumphed over all,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Responding ever to his country's call;</p>
+         <p class="i0">And more divine than human seemed the deed</p>
+         <p class="i0">When he the slave from hellish bondage freed,</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">And from the South its human chattels tore.</p>
+         <p class="i0">'Twas his to Man his manhood to restore.</p>
+         <p class="i0">That righteous action sealed rebellion's doom,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And paved secession's pathway to the tomb.</p>
+         <p class="i0">But, lo! when Peace with Union glory, came,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And all the country rang with his <span style="white-space: nowrap;">acclaim&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">A reunited country, great and <span style="white-space: nowrap;">strong&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">A foul assassin marked him for his prey;</p>
+         <p class="i0">A bullet sped, and Lincoln dying lay.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Alas! Alas! that he should thus have <span style="white-space: nowrap;">died&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">His country's leader, and his country's pride!</p>
+         <p class="i0">No deed more infamous than <span style="white-space: nowrap;">this&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">No fate more cruel and unjust than <span style="white-space: nowrap;">his&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">Can in the annals of the world be found.</p>
+         <p class="i0">The Nation shuddered in its grief profound,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And mourning emblems draped the country o'er</p>
+         <p class="i0">Alas! Alas! its leader was no more!</p>
+         <p class="i0">But still he lives in his immortal fame,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And evermore will Glory gild his name,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And keep his memory in eternal view,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And o'er his grave unfading garlands strew.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i231" id="i231"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 183px;">
+<a href="images/i231h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i231.jpg" width="183" height="272" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">STATUE OF LINCOLN<br />
+At Edinburgh, Scotland, George E. Bissell, sculptor</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">It</span> is within an inclosed cemetery, known as the
+Calton burying ground, which is separated from
+the Calton Hill by a wide thoroughfare. The
+statue is the work of an American sculptor, George
+E. Bissell. It is a fine bronze figure, and rests on a
+massive granite pedestal. The figure at the base is
+that of a freed negro holding up a wreath. On one
+face of the pedestal are Lincoln's words, "To preserve
+the jewel of liberty in the framework of freedom."
+The statue is a memorial not alone to Lincoln; the
+legend on the pedestal tells that this plot of ground was
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>
+given by the lord provost and town council of Edinburgh
+to Wallace Bruce, United States Consul, and
+dedicated as a burial place for Scottish soldiers of the
+American Civil War, 1861-65. Cut in the granite are
+the names and records of Scots who fought to preserve
+the Union, and who have found their last resting place
+in this old burying ground at the Scottish capital.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">David K. Watson</span> was born near London,
+Madison County, Ohio, June 18, 1849. Moved
+to Columbus, Ohio, in 1875, where he now resides.
+Was Assistant United States District Attorney for the
+Southern District of Ohio from 1881 to 1885. Elected
+Attorney-General of Ohio in 1887 and re-elected in
+1889. Member of the fifty-fourth Congress. Was
+member of the Commission to revise the Federal
+Statutes. Author of <i>History of American Coinage</i> and
+<i>Watson on the Constitution of the United States.</i></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem231" id="poem231">THE SCOTLAND STATUE</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp1"><span class="dcap">O Scotland</span>! It was a gracious act in thee</p>
+         <p class="i0">To build a monument beside the sea</p>
+         <p class="i0">To Lincoln, who wrote the word,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And slavery's shackles fell</p>
+         <p class="i0">From off a race</p>
+         <p class="i0">Which ne'er before could tell</p>
+         <p class="i0">What freedom was.</p>
+         <p class="i0">To Lincoln, whose soul was great enough to know</p>
+         <p class="i0">That beings born in likeness of their God</p>
+         <p class="i0">Were meant to live as freemen,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Not as slaves, and ruled by slavery's rod.</p>
+         <p class="i0">To Lincoln, who more than any of his race</p>
+         <p class="i0">Uplifted men and women to the place</p>
+         <p class="i0">God made for them.</p>
+         <p class="i0">To Lincoln, who never saw your land,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And in whose veins no Scottish blood had run;</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">But yet, because of deeds which he had done,</p>
+         <p class="i0">His mighty name</p>
+         <p class="i0">Had filled the world with fame</p>
+         <p class="i0">And taught the people of each land</p>
+         <p class="i0">That in God's hand</p>
+         <p class="i0">Is held the destiny of races and of man.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Immortal patriot! through the mist of years</p>
+         <p class="i0">That in the future are to <span style="white-space: nowrap;">come,&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">When we who saw thee here are <span style="white-space: nowrap;">gone,&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">We view thy heaven-aspiring tomb</p>
+         <p class="i0">Illumined by the roseate dawn</p>
+         <p class="i0">Of the millennial day,</p>
+         <p class="i0">When Peace shall hold her sway,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And bring Saturnian eras; when the roar</p>
+         <p class="i0">O' the battle's thunder shall be heard no more.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i234" id="i234"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 301px;">
+<a href="images/i234h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i234.jpg" width="301" height="221" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">STATUE OF LINCOLN<br />
+At Newark, N.&nbsp;J. Gutzon Borglum, sculptor</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> statue was unveiled May 30, 1911. It is the
+gift of Amos H. Van Horn, who died December
+26, 1908. In his will he set aside $25,000 for a
+memorial to Abraham Lincoln, to be dedicated in memory
+of Lincoln Post, No. 11, Department of New Jersey,
+G.&nbsp;A.&nbsp;R., of which he was a charter member.</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Joseph Fulford Folsom</span>, Presbyterian clergyman,
+miscellaneous writer and local historian, is
+a native of Bloomfield, New Jersey. He is a direct
+descendant of John Folsom who arrived at Boston in
+the Diligent on August 10, 1638, and settled at Hingham,
+Massachusetts.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Folsom is the pastor of the Third Presbyterian
+Church, South, of Newark, New Jersey. He has
+served two terms as Chaplain General of the Order of
+the Founders and Patriots of America. Is Librarian
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>
+and Recording Secretary of the New Jersey Historical
+Society. Edited and wrote three chapters of <i>Bloomfield,
+Old and New,</i> a history of that town published in 1912.
+Wrote the history of the churches of Newark, including
+the <i>History of Newark, New Jersey,</i> published in 1913.
+His poem, <i>The Ballad of Daniel Bray,</i> is found in the
+<i>Patriotic Poems of New Jersey.</i> He is an occasional
+writer of poems, and contributes regularly a column
+of historical matters, signed "The Lorist."</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem234" id="poem234">THE UNFINISHED WORK</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> crowd was gone, and to the side</p>
+         <p class="i1">Of Borglum's Lincoln, deep in awe,</p>
+         <p class="i0">I crept. It seem'd a mighty tide</p>
+         <p class="i1">Within those aching eyes I saw.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">"Great heart," I said, "why grieve alway?</p>
+         <p class="i1">The battle's ended and the shout</p>
+         <p class="i0">Shall ring forever and a <span style="white-space: nowrap;">day,&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i1">Why sorrow yet, or darkly doubt?"</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">"Freedom," I plead, "so nobly won</p>
+         <p class="i1">For all mankind, and equal right,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Shall with the ages travel on</p>
+         <p class="i1">Till time shall cease, and day be night."</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">No answer&mdash;then; but up the slope,</p>
+         <p class="i1">With broken gait, and hands in clench,</p>
+         <p class="i0">A toiler came, bereft of hope,</p>
+         <p class="i1">And sank beside him on the bench.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i236" id="i236"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 254px;">
+<a href="images/i236h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i236.jpg" width="254" height="165" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">CHILDREN ON THE BORGLUM STATUE</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Wendell Phillips Stafford</span>, son of
+Frank and Sarah (Noyes) Stafford, born at
+Barre, Vermont, May 1, 1861. Educated at
+Barre Academy and St. Johnsbury Academy. Studied
+law and attended Boston University Law School,
+graduating therefrom in 1883. Admitted to the bar
+in 1883. Practiced law in St. Johnsbury until 1900.
+Was then appointed to the Supreme Court of Vermont.
+Appointed to the Supreme Court of the District of
+Columbia in 1904, which position he still holds.</p>
+
+<p>Married February 24, 1886, to Miss Florence Sinclair
+Goss of St. Johnsbury. Has contributed to the
+<i>Atlantic Monthly</i> and other magazines. Publications:
+<i>North Flowers</i> (poems), 1902; <i>Dorian Days</i> (poems),
+1909; <i>Speeches,</i> 1913.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3 class="vbsm"><a name="poem236" id="poem236">ONE OF OUR PRESIDENTS</a></h3>
+
+<p class="center vsm">(<i>See <a href="#Page_80">page 80</a></i>)</p>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">He</span> sits there on the low, rude, backless bench,</p>
+         <p class="i0">With his tall hat beside him, and one arm</p>
+         <p class="i0">Flung, thus, across his knee. The other hand</p>
+         <p class="i0">Rests, flat, palm downward, by him on the seat.</p>
+         <p class="i0">So &AElig;sop may have sat; so Lincoln did.</p>
+         <p class="i0">For all the sadness in the sunken eyes,</p>
+         <p class="i0">For all the kingship in the uncrowned brow,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The great form leans so friendly, father-like,</p>
+         <p class="i0">It is a call to children. I have watched</p>
+         <p class="i0">Eight at a time swarming upon him there,</p>
+         <p class="i0">All clinging to him&mdash;riding upon his knees,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Cuddling between his arms, clasping his neck,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Perched on his shoulders, even on his head;</p>
+         <p class="i0">And one small, play-stained hand I saw reached up</p>
+         <p class="i0">And laid most softly on the kind bronze lips</p>
+         <p class="i0">As if it claimed them. These were the children</p>
+         <p class="i0">Of foreigners we call them, but not so</p>
+         <p class="i0">They call themselves; for when we asked of one,</p>
+         <p class="i0">A restless dark-eyed girl, who this man was,</p>
+         <p class="i0">She answered straight, "One of our Presidents."</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">"Let all the winds of hell blow in our sails,"</p>
+         <p class="i0">I thought, "thank God, thank God the ship rides true!"</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i238" id="i238"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 249px;">
+<a href="images/i238h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i238.jpg" width="249" height="247" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">HEAD OF LINCOLN<br />
+This medal was struck for the Grand Army of the Republic in commemoration
+of the 100th anniversary of the birth of Abraham Lincoln</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Frank Dempster Sherman</span>, son of John
+Dempster and Lucy (McFarland) Sherman, was
+born May 6, 1860, at Peekskill, New York; educated
+at home and at Columbia and Howard Universities,
+and since 1886 connected with Columbia
+University where he is Professor of Graphics. Author
+of several volumes of poems which are published by
+Houghton-Mifflin Company, Boston.</p>
+
+<p>Professor Sherman married, November 16, 1887,
+Juliet Durand, daughter of Rev. Cyrus Bervic and
+Sarah Elizabeth (Merserveau) Durand.</p>
+
+<p>He is a member of the National Institute of Arts and
+Letters.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem239" id="poem239">ON A BRONZE MEDAL OF LINCOLN</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">This</span> bronze our Lincoln's noble head doth bear,</p>
+         <p class="i1">Behold the strength and splendor of that face,</p>
+         <p class="i1">So homely-beautiful, with just a trace</p>
+         <p class="i0">Of humor lightening its look of care,</p>
+         <p class="i0">With bronze indeed his memory doth share,</p>
+         <p class="i1">This martyr who found freedom for a Race;</p>
+         <p class="i1">Both shall endure beyond the time and place</p>
+         <p class="i0">That knew them first, and brighter grow with wear.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Happy must be the genius here that wrought</p>
+         <p class="i1">These features of the great American</p>
+         <p class="i2">Whose fame lends so much glory to our <span style="white-space: nowrap;">past&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">Happy to know the inspiration caught</p>
+         <p class="i1">From this most human and heroic man</p>
+         <p class="i2">Lives here to honor him while Art shall last.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i240" id="i240"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 183px;">
+<a href="images/i240h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i240.jpg" width="183" height="256" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">MARBLE HEAD OF LINCOLN<br />
+In Statuary Hall, Capitol in Washington, Gutzon Borglum, sculptor</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Ella Wheeler [Wilcox]</span> was born in Johnstown
+Centre, Wisconsin, in 1845. Was educated
+at the public schools at Windsor and at the University
+of Wisconsin. In 1884 she married Robert M.
+Wilcox. Contributed articles for newspapers at an
+early age and also wrote and published a number of
+books of poems.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem241" id="poem241">THE GLORY THAT SLUMBERED IN THE GRANITE ROCK</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp1"><span class="dcap">A granite</span> rock on the mountain side</p>
+         <p class="i0">Gazed on the world and was satisfied;</p>
+         <p class="i0">It watched the centuries come and <span style="white-space: nowrap;">go&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">It welcomed the sunlight, and loved the snow,</p>
+         <p class="i0">It grieved when the forest was forced to fall,</p>
+         <p class="i0">But smiled when the steeples rose, white and tall,</p>
+         <p class="i0">In the valley below it, and thrilled to hear</p>
+         <p class="i0">The voice of the great town roaring near.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">When the mountain stream from its idle play</p>
+         <p class="i0">Was caught by the mill-wheel, and borne away</p>
+         <p class="i0">And trained to labor, the gray rock mused:</p>
+         <p class="i0">"Tree and verdure and stream are used</p>
+         <p class="i0">By man, the master, but I remain</p>
+         <p class="i0">Friend of the Mountain, and Star, and Plain;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Unchanged forever, by God's decree,</p>
+         <p class="i0">While passing centuries bow to me!"</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Then, all unwarned, with a heavy shock</p>
+         <p class="i0">Down from the mountain was wrenched the rock.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Bruised and battered and broken in heart,</p>
+         <p class="i0">He was carried away to a common mart.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Wrecked and ruined in peace and pride,</p>
+         <p class="i0">"Oh, God is cruel!" the granite cried;</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">"Comrade of Mountain, of Star the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">friend&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">By all deserted&mdash;how sad my end!"</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">A dreaming sculptor, in passing by,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Gazed on the granite with thoughtful eye;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Then, stirred with a purpose supreme and grand,</p>
+         <p class="i0">He bade his dream in the rock <span style="white-space: nowrap;">expand&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">And lo! from the broken and shapeless mass,</p>
+         <p class="i0">That grieved and doubted, it came to pass</p>
+         <p class="i0">That a glorious statue, of infinite <span style="white-space: nowrap;">worth&mdash;</span></p>
+         <p class="i0">A statue of <span class="smcap">Lincoln</span>&mdash;adorned the earth.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i243" id="i243"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 298px;">
+<a href="images/i243h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i243.jpg" width="298" height="252" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">THE LINCOLN BOULDER<br />
+At Nyack, N.&nbsp;Y.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">This</span> boulder had been for two hundred and fifty
+years a landmark near the Western shore of the
+Hudson River, opposite Upper Nyack. The
+school children of Nyack contributed the <a name="trans243" id="trans243">funds to
+remove it from</a> its ancient bed and place it in front
+of the Nyack Carnegie Library, where it now stands
+and probably will stand for thousands of years to
+come, a monument to the memory of Abraham Lincoln.</p>
+
+<p>The boulder contains the Gettysburg address and
+was dedicated June 13, 1908.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Louis Bradford Couch</span>, born at East Lee,
+Massachusetts, October 1, 1851. Son of Bradford
+Milton and Lucy L. Couch. Educated in the public
+schools of Northampton, Massachusetts. Began the
+study of medicine in 1871, graduating with honors from
+the New York Homeopathic Medical College, March
+4, 1874, being awarded the Allen gold medal for the best
+original investigations in medicine; he was graduated
+from the New York Ophthalmic Hospital, the same
+year, as an eye and ear surgeon. Practiced medicine for
+thirty-nine years at Nyack, New York. Served three
+years as one of the medical experts on the New York
+State Board of Health.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem243" id="poem243">THE LINCOLN BOULDER</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp1"><span class="dcap">O Mighty</span> Boulder, wrought by God's own hand,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Throughout all future ages thou shalt stand</p>
+         <p class="i0">A monument of honor to the brave</p>
+         <p class="i0">Who yielded up their lives, their all, to save</p>
+         <p class="i0">Our glorious country, and to make it free</p>
+         <p class="i0">From bondsmen's tears and lash of slavery.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Securely welded to thy rugged breast,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Through all the coming ages there shall rest</p>
+         <p class="i0">Our Lincoln's tribute to a patriot band,</p>
+         <p class="i0">The noblest ever penned by human hand.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">The storms of centuries may lash and beat</p>
+         <p class="i0">The granite face and bronze with hail and sleet;</p>
+         <p class="i0">But futile all their fury. In a day</p>
+         <p class="i0">The loyal sun will melt them all away.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">Equal in death our gallant heroes sleep</p>
+         <p class="i0">In Southern trench, home grave, or ocean deep;</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">Equal in glory, fadeless as the light</p>
+         <p class="i0">The stars send down upon them through the night.<span style="letter-spacing: 1em;">&nbsp;<span style="letter-spacing: 1em;">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></span></p>
+         <p class="i0">O priceless heritage for us to keep</p>
+         <p class="i0">Our heroes' fame immortal while they sleep!</p>
+   </div>
+      <p><span class="tbdots"><b>.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.</b></span></p>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">O God still guide us with thy loving hand,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Keep and protect our glorious Fatherland.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i246" id="i246"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 220px;">
+<a href="images/i246h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i246.jpg" width="220" height="298" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">BAS-RELIEF HEAD OF LINCOLN<br />
+James W. Tuft, Boston</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">James Arthur Edgerton</span>, born at Plantsville,
+Ohio, January 30, 1869. Graduated at the
+Normal University, Lebanon, Ohio, in 1887. One
+year's post-graduate work, Marietta, Ohio, College.
+Editor county and state papers several years; on
+editorial staff of <i>Denver News,</i> 1899-1903; American
+Press Association, New York, 1904; <i>Watson's Magazine,</i>
+1905. Editorial writer <i>New York American,</i> 1907;
+Secretary State Labor Bureau of Nebraska, 1895-9;
+received party vote for clerk United States House of
+Representatives. Author, <i>Poems,</i> 1889; <i>A Better
+Day,</i> 1890; <i>Populist Hand-book for 1894;</i> <i>Populist
+Hand-book for Nebraska,</i> 1895; <i>Voices of the Morning,</i>
+1898; <i>Songs of the People,</i> 1902; <i>Glimpses of the Real,</i>
+1903; <i>In the Gardens of God,</i> 1904.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem247" id="poem247">WHEN LINCOLN DIED</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">When</span> Lincoln died a universal grief</p>
+         <p class="i0">Went round the earth. Men loved him in that hour.</p>
+         <p class="i0">The North her leader lost, the South her friend;</p>
+         <p class="i0">The nation lost its savior, and the slave</p>
+         <p class="i0">Lost his deliverer, the most of all.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Oh, there was sorrow mid the humble poor</p>
+         <p class="i3">When Lincoln died!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">When Lincoln died a great soul passed from earth,</p>
+         <p class="i0">A great white soul, as tender as a child</p>
+         <p class="i0">And yet as iron willed as Hercules.</p>
+         <p class="i0">In him were strength and gentleness so mixed</p>
+         <p class="i0">That each upheld the other. He possessed</p>
+         <p class="i0">The patient firmness of a loving heart.</p>
+         <p class="i0">In power he out-kinged emperors, and yet</p>
+         <p class="i0">His mercy was as boundless as his power.</p>
+         <p class="i0">And he was jovial, laughter loving; still</p>
+         <p class="i0">His heart was ever torn with suffering.</p>
+         <span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>
+         <p class="i0">There was divine compassion in the man,</p>
+         <p class="i0">A godlike love and pity for his race.</p>
+         <p class="i0">The world saw the full measure of that love</p>
+         <p class="i3">When Lincoln died.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">When Lincoln died a type was lost to men.</p>
+         <p class="i0">The earth has had her conquerors and kings</p>
+         <p class="i0">And many of the common great. Through all</p>
+         <p class="i0">She only had one Lincoln. There is none</p>
+         <p class="i0">Like him in all the annals of the past.</p>
+         <p class="i0">He was a growth of our new soil, a child</p>
+         <p class="i0">Of our new time, a symbol of the race</p>
+         <p class="i0">That freedom breeds; was of the lowest rank,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And yet he scaled the highest height.</p>
+         <p class="i0">Mankind one of its few immortals lost</p>
+         <p class="i3">When Lincoln died.</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i0">When Lincoln died it seemed a providence,</p>
+         <p class="i0">For he appeared as one sent for a work</p>
+         <p class="i0">Whom, when that work was done, God summoned home.</p>
+         <p class="i0">He led a splendid fight for liberty,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And when the shackles fell the land was saved;</p>
+         <p class="i0">He laid his armor by and sought his rest.</p>
+         <p class="i0">A glory sent from heaven covered him</p>
+         <p class="i3">When Lincoln died.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i249" id="i249"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 180px;">
+<a href="images/i249h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i249.jpg" width="180" height="252" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">A STUDY OF LINCOLN<br />
+From painting by Blendon Campbell</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Amos Russell Wells</span> was born at Glens Falls,
+New York, December 23, 1862. His mother removed
+to Yellow Springs, Ohio, when he was four
+years old, and he received his education at the public
+school there, afterward studying at Antioch College
+of that town, a college made illustrious by its first President,
+Horace Mann, who died there. Graduated in
+1883, all by himself, later receiving as Master of Arts,
+also LL.D. He taught for a year in a country district
+school, then entered the faculty of his Alma Mater,
+where he was a tutor for nine years. Was professor
+of Greek, Geology and Astronomy. He joined the
+Christian Endeavor Society in 1888, and by it was led
+to become a member of the Presbyterian Church at
+Yellow Springs. When but a boy he began to write,
+and edited numerous journals. Later edited an amateur
+paper, also a town paper. His first paid contribution
+was a poem accepted in 1881 by <i>The Christian
+Union,</i> now <i>The Outlook.</i> Wrote articles often for
+<i>The Golden Rule,</i> now <i>The Christian Endeavor World,</i>
+and for the <i>Sunday School Times.</i></p>
+
+<p>In December, 1891, he went to Boston and became
+managing editor of <i>The Golden Rule,</i> a position which
+he still holds. Since then the paper has changed its
+name and three other papers added&mdash;<i>The Junior
+Christian Endeavor World,</i> <i>Junior Work</i> and <i>Union
+Work,</i> all edited by Mr. Wells. He is also Editorial
+Secretary of the United Society of Christian Endeavor
+and in editorial charge of all its publications.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Wells' first book, then entitled <i>Golden Rule
+Meditations,</i> but now <i>The Upward Look,</i> was published
+in 1893. Since then every year has seen from one to
+ten additions to his list of productions until they now
+number fifty-eight volumes in all. He is a director of
+the Union Rescue Mission and of the Chinese Mission
+of Boston. Is a member of the American Sunday-School
+Lesson Committee, an important part of his
+work being his association with Dr. F.&nbsp;N. Peloubet in
+writing the well-known <i>Select Notes</i> on the International
+Sunday-School Lessons.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem250" id="poem250">HAD LINCOLN LIVED</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Had</span> Lincoln lived,</p>
+         <p class="i0">How would his hand, so gentle yet so strong,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Have closed the gaping wounds of ancient wrong;</p>
+         <p class="i0">How would his merry jests, the way he smiled,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Our sundered hearts to union have beguiled;</p>
+         <p class="i0">How would the South from his just rule have learned</p>
+         <p class="i0">That enemies to neighbors may be turned,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And how the North, with his sagacious art,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Have learned the power of a trusting heart;</p>
+         <p class="i0">What follies had been spared us, and what stain,</p>
+         <p class="i0">What seeds of bitterness that still remain,</p>
+         <p class="i3">Had Lincoln lived!</p>
+   </div>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="i3">With Lincoln dead,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Ten million men in substitute for one</p>
+         <p class="i0">Must do the noble deeds he would have done:</p>
+         <p class="i0">Must lift the freedman with discerning care,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Nor house him in a castle of the air;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Must join the North and South in every good,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Fused in co-operating brotherhood;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Must banish enmity with his good cheer,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And slay with sunshine every rising fear;</p>
+         <p class="i0">Like him to dare, and trust, and sacrifice,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Ten million lesser Lincolns must arise,</p>
+         <p class="i3">With Lincoln dead.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="figanchor"><a name="i252" id="i252"></a></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 247px;">
+<a href="images/i252h.jpg">
+<img src="images/i252.jpg" width="247" height="190" alt="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="cption">THE LINCOLN MEMORIAL<br />
+Henry Bacon, Architect</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">The</span> Lincoln Memorial will be the costliest monument
+to the memory of one man ever reared by
+a republic. The Capitol, at one end of the great
+parkway stretching from Capitol Hill to the Potomac,
+is a monument to the Government; the Lincoln
+Memorial, at the other end of that parkway, is a
+monument to the savior of that Government; and the
+Washington Monument, standing between, is a monument
+to its founder. The memorial will stand on a
+broad terrace 45 feet above grade. The colonnade will
+be 188 feet long and 118 feet wide, and will contain
+36 columns, 44 feet high and 7 feet 5 inches in diameter
+at the base. Within the interior of the structure
+will be three halls. In the central hall, which will be
+60 feet wide, 70 long, and 60 high, there will be a noble
+statue of Lincoln, while in the two side halls will be
+bronze tablets containing the Great Emancipator's
+second inaugural address and his Gettysburg speech.
+<a name="trans252" id="trans252">The George A. Fuller Company of Washington</a> are the
+builders of the Memorial, which will be completed
+in 1917.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Samuel Green Wheeler Benjamin</span>, born
+at Argos, Greece, February 13, 1837. Was United
+States Minister to Persia (1883-1885). Assistant
+Librarian in the New York State Library. In 1861-1864
+sent two companies of cavalry to the war. Served in
+war hospitals, studied art. Art editor of American
+Department <i>Magazine of Art,</i> also of the <i>New York
+Mail.</i> Marine painter and illustrator. Among his
+numerous works in prose and verse are <i>Art in America,</i>
+<i>Contemporary Art in Europe</i> (1877); <i>Constantinople</i>
+(1860); <i>Persia and the Persians</i> (1866); <i>The Choice
+of Paris</i> (1870), a romance; <i>Sea Spray</i> (1887), a book
+for yachtsmen, etc.</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<h3><a name="poem253" id="poem253">LET HIS MONUMENT ARISE</a></h3>
+
+<table class="poembx" summary="poem"><tr><td>
+   <div class="stanza">
+         <p class="drpp"><span class="dcap">Let</span> his monument arise,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Pointing upward to the skies,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Founded by a nation's heart,</p>
+         <p class="i0">Grandly shaped in every part</p>
+         <p class="i0">By the master-minds of art,</p>
+         <p class="i0">And consecrated by a nation's tears,</p>
+         <p class="i0">To teach throughout the after-time,</p>
+         <p class="i0">To every tribe, in every clime,</p>
+         <p class="i0">That toil for others is sublime.</p>
+   </div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="sixty"  />
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<h2><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX">INDEX</a></h2>
+
+<p class="center" style="font-size: 110%;">
+<a href="#INDEX">A</a>
+<a href="#B">B</a>
+<a href="#C">C</a>
+<a href="#D">D</a>
+<a href="#E">E</a>
+<a href="#F">F</a>
+<a href="#G">G</a>
+<a href="#H">H</a>
+<a href="#I">I</a>
+<a href="#J">J</a>
+<a href="#K">K</a>
+<a href="#L">L</a>
+<a href="#M">M</a>
+<a href="#N">N</a>
+<a href="#O">O</a>
+<a href="#P">P</a>
+Q
+<a href="#R">R</a>
+<a href="#S">S</a>
+<a href="#T">T</a>
+<a href="#U">U</a>
+<a href="#V">V</a>
+<a href="#W">W</a>
+X
+Y
+Z
+</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Allen, Lyman Whitney</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln's Church in Washington," by, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Allen, William</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>;<br />
+poem, "Springfield's Welcome to Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Antietam, Lincoln at</span>: photograph, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Assassination of Lincoln, On the</span>": poem by Henry De Garrs, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="B" id="B">B</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Bache, Anna</span>: poem, "Lincoln at Springfield, 1861," by, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Bacon, Henry</span>, architect: Lincoln Memorial at Washington, by, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Ball, Thomas</span>, sculptor: "Emancipation Group" in Boston by, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>;<br />
+in Washington by, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Bates, Edward</span>, Attorney-General: portrait of, in "Lincoln and Cabinet," <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Baxter, James Phinney</span>: sketch of <a href="#Page_22">22</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Natal Day of Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Becker, Charlotte</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Benjamin, Samuel Green Wheeler</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>;<br />
+poem, "Let His Monument Arise," by, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Bible, The</span>: Lincoln's fondness for <a href="#Page_xvi">xvi</a>, <a href="#Page_xxiii">xxiii</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Birth of Lincoln, The</span>": poem by George W. Crofts, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Bissell, George E.</span>, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Blair, Montgomery</span>, Postmaster-General: portrait of, in "Lincoln and Cabinet," <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Boker, George Henry</span>: sketch of <a href="#Page_208">208</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Booth, Edwin</span>: Lincoln discusses his <i>Hamlet</i>, <a href="#Page_xvii">xvii-xix</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Booth, J. Wilkes</span>: assassin of Lincoln, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Borglum, Gutzon</span>, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>;<br />
+marble head of Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Boston</span>: statue of Lincoln in, by Thomas Ball, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Boy Lincoln, The</span>": picture by Eastman Johnson, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Brady</span>, Washington photographer: portraits of Lincoln by, <i><a href="#i000">frontispiece</a></i>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Bronze Medal of Lincoln, On a</span>": poem by Frank Dempster Sherman, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Brown, Stuart</span>: owner of Lincoln portrait, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Brown, Theron</span>; sketch of, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Liberator," by, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Browne, Charles F.</span>, see <span class="smcap"><a href="#Ward_Artemus">Ward, Artemus</a></span>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Bryant, William Cullen</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Death of Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Buffalo, N.&nbsp;Y.</span>: Lincoln's obsequies at, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Bugbee, Emily J.</span>: "Poetical Tribute to the Memory of Abraham Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Burleigh, William Henry</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>;<br />
+poem, "Presidential Campaign, 1860," by, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Burlington, Wis.</span>: statue of Lincoln in, by Ganiere, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">But Here's an Object More of Dread</span>": poem by Lincoln, <a href="#Page_viii">viii</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="C" id="C">C</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Cabin, Log</span>, Lincoln's birthplace: picture, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Cabin of Lincoln's Parents</span>: picture, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>;<br />
+description, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Campbell, Blendon</span>. artist: "A Study of Lincoln" by, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Capitol at Washington, The</span>: description of, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>;<br />
+picture of, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Carpenter, Frank B.</span>, painter of "First Reading of the Emancipation Proclamation," <a href="#Page_xvii">xvii</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>;<br />
+his account of Lincoln as a dramatic critic, <a href="#Page_xvii">xvii</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Carr, Clarence E.</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>;<br />
+poem, "Mendelssohn, Darwin, Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Cary, Alice</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>;<br />
+poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Cary, Phoebe</span>, sketch of, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>;<br />
+poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Cassidy, Thomas F.</span>: tribute of, to the mother of Lincoln, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Cawein, Madison</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln, 1809&mdash;February 12, 1909," by, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Cenotaph of Lincoln, The</span>": poem by James Mackay, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Chapple, Bennett</span>: poem, "The Great Oak," by, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Characterization of Lincoln, A</span>": poem by Hamilton Schuyler, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Chase, Salmon P.</span>, Secretary of the Treasury: portrait of, in "Lincoln and Cabinet," <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Cheney, John Vance</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Chicago</span>: statue of Lincoln in, by Saint Gaudens, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Children on the Borglum Statue</span>": picture, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Choate, Isaac Bassett</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>;<br />
+
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>
+
+poem, "The Matchless Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">City Hall, New York, N.&nbsp;Y.</span>: picture and description of, at time of Lincoln obsequies, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Clay, Henry</span>: Lincoln's regard for, <a href="#Page_vi">vi</a>;<br />
+his eulogy of, <a href="#Page_xv">xv</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Clendenin, Henry Wilson</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln Called to the Presidency," by, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Cooke, Rose Terry</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>;<br />
+poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Cooper Union Speech</span>, by Lincoln; reference to, <a href="#Page_xii">xii</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Cornwallis, Kinahan</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>;<br />
+poem, "Homage Due to Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Couch, Louis Bradford</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Lincoln Boulder," by, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Cranch, Christopher Pearse</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Crofts, George W.</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Birth of Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="D" id="D">D</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Darwin, Mendelssohn, Lincoln</span>": poem by Clarence E. Carr, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>;<br />
+portraits of, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Davis, Noah</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Death of Lincoln</span>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Death of Lincoln</span>": poem by William Cullen Bryant, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Deathbed of Lincoln</span>: picture of, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>;<br />
+poem on, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Declaration of Independence</span>: Lincoln on, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Dedication Poem</span>" of Lincoln Monument at Springfield, Ill., by James Judson Lord, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Dickinson, Charles Monroe</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>;<br />
+poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Diogenes and His Lantern</span>": campaign cartoon of 1860, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Douglas, Stephen A.</span>, Senator: Lincoln's opposition to, <a href="#Page_xvi">xvi</a>;<br />
+attitude of, on the Dred Scott Decision, opposed by Lincoln, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Dred Scott Decision</span>: reference to, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Dunbar, Paul Lawrence</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</p>
+
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="E" id="E">E</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Edgerton, James Arthur</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>;<br />
+poem, "When Lincoln Died," by, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Edinburgh, Scotland</span>: Statue of Lincoln in, by Bissell, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Emancipation Group</span>," statuary designed by Thomas Ball: in Boston, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>;<br />
+in Washington, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>;<br />
+poem on, by John Greenleaf Whittier, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Emancipation Proclamation, First Reading of the</span>": painting by Frank B. Carpenter, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">England's Sorrow</span>": poem in London <i>Fun</i>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Euclid</span>: see <span class="smcap"><a href="#Geometry">Geometry</a></span>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Eyes of Lincoln, The</span>": poem by Walt Mason, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="F" id="F">F</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Fassett, S.&nbsp;M.</span>, Chicago photographer: portrait of Lincoln in 1858, by, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">First Reading of the Emancipation Proclamation</span>": painting by Frank B. Carpenter, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Flannery, Lott</span>, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Folsom, Joseph Fulford</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Unfinished Work," by, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Foltz, Charles G.</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>;<br />
+poem, "On Freedom's Summit," by, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Ford's Theatre</span>: picture of, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">French, Daniel Chester</span>, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Fun, London</span>: poem, "England's Sorrow" in, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Funeral of Lincoln, The</span>, in White House: picture, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Funeral Car of Lincoln</span>": picture of, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>;<br />
+poem by Richard Henry Stoddard on, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Funeral Hymn of Lincoln</span>": poem by Phineas Densmore Gurley, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="G" id="G">G</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Ganiere, George E.</span>, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Gardner</span>, Washington photographer: portraits of Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Garrs, Henry De</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>;<br />
+poem, "On the Assassination of Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Gelert, Johannes</span>, sculptor: bust of Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_iv">iv</a>, <a href="#Page_v">v</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Gentry, Matthew</span>, insane friend of Lincoln: poem by Lincoln on, <a href="#Page_vii">vii-ix</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap"><a name="Geometry" id="Geometry">Geometry</a></span>: favorite study of Lincoln, <a href="#Page_xii">xii</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Gettysburg, Lincoln's Speech at</span>: in prose form, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>;<br />
+comment by William H. Lambert on, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>;<br />
+in verse form, <a href="#Page_xii">xii</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Gettysburg Ode</span>"; poem by Bayard Taylor, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Gilder, Richard Watson</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>;<br />
+poem, "On the Life-Mask of Abraham Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Gilmer</span>, photographer: ambrotype of Lincoln, 1858, by, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Glory, The, That Slumbered In The Granite Rocks</span>": poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Gould, Elizabeth Porter</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>;</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Grave of Lincoln, The</span>": views of, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>;<br />
+poem on, by Edna Dean Proctor, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Great Oak, The</span>," poem by Bennett Chapple, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Guiterman, Arthur</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>;<br />
+poem, "He Leads Us Still," by, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Gurley, Phineas Densmore</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Funeral Hymn of Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="H" id="H">H</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Had Lincoln Lived</span>": Poem by Amos Russell Wells, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Hagedorn, Hermann</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>;<br />
+poem, "Oh, Patient Eyes!" by, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Hall, Eugene J.</span>: poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap"><a name="Halpin" id="Halpin">Halpin, Charles Graham</a></span> ("Miles O'Reilly"): sketch of, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Hand of Lincoln, The</span>": cast by Leonard W. Volk, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>;<br />
+poem on, by Edmund Clarence Stedman, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Hanks, Nancy</span>: see <span class="smcap"><a href="#Lincoln_Nancy">Lincoln, Nancy Hanks</a></span>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Hay, John</span>, secretary of Lincoln: portrait of, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">He Leads Us Still</span>": poem by Arthur Guiterman, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Herndon, William H.</span>, law partner of Lincoln: presents Lincoln's office chair to O.&nbsp;H. Oldroyd, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Hesler</span>, Chicago photographer: portrait of Lincoln in 1860, by, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Hicks</span>, painter of Lincoln portrait lithographed for campaign of 1860, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Hodgenville, Ky.</span>: statue of Lincoln in, by Weinman, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Holmes, Oliver Wendell</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>;<br />
+poem, "Services in Memory of Abraham Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>;<br />
+his "Last Leaf," a favorite poem of Lincoln, <a href="#Page_xi">xi</a>, <a href="#Page_xxi">xxi</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Homage Due to Lincoln</span>": poem by Kinahan Cornwallis, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Honest Abe</span>": campaign cartoon of 1860, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Honest Abe of the West</span>": poem by Edmund Clarence Stedman, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Hooper, Lucy Hamilton</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Horatian Ode, An</span>": poem by Richard Henry Stoddard, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Hosmer, Frederick Lucian</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">House Where Lincoln Died, The</span>": picture of, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>;<br />
+poem by Robert Mackay on, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>;<br />
+Oldroyd collection of Lincoln Memorials at, <i><a href="#FOREWORD">Foreword</a></i>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Howe, Julia Ward</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="I" id="I">I</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Independence Hall, Philadelphia</span>: speech of Lincoln at, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>;<br />
+picture of, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Ingmire, F.&nbsp;W.</span>, photographer: picture of Lincoln Homestead at time of Lincoln's funeral, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">In Token of Respect</span>": poem, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="J" id="J">J</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Johnson, Eastman</span>: picture, "The Boy Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Johnson, William</span>, literary friend of Lincoln: Lincoln's letters to, <a href="#Page_v">v-ix</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Johnston, James Nicoll</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>;<br />
+poem, "Requiem," by, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="K" id="K">K</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Kimball, Harriet McEwen</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>;<br />
+poem, "Rest, Rest, for Him," by, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Knox, William</span>, Scotch poet: favorite of Lincoln, <a href="#Page_vi">vi</a>;<br />
+his poem, "Oh Why Should the Spirit of Mortal Be Proud," <a href="#Page_ix">ix</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="L" id="L">L</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lambert, William H.</span>: on Lincoln's Speech at Gettysburg, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Larcom, Lucy</span>, sketch of, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>;<br />
+poem, "Tolling," by, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Last Leaf, The</span>," by O.&nbsp;W. Holmes: favorite poem of Lincoln, <a href="#Page_xi">xi</a>, <a href="#Page_xxi">xxi</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Leader of His People</span>": poem by William Wilberforce Newton, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Leighton, Robert</span>: poem, "Sic Semper Tyrannis!" by, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Let the President Sleep</span>": poem by James M. Stewart, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Let His Monument Arise</span>": poem by Samuel Green Wheeler Benjamin, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Liberator, The</span>": poem by Theron Brown, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Life-mask of Lincoln, The</span>": cast by Leonard W. Volk, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>;<br />
+poem on, by Richard Watson Gilder, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Abraham</span>: poems by, <a href="#Page_v">v-ix</a>;<br />
+speeches by, <a href="#Page_xii">xii-xiv</a>, <a href="#Page_xv">xv-xvii</a>, <a href="#Page_xix">xix</a>, <a href="#Page_xxi">xxi-xxiii</a>;<br />
+lectures by, <a href="#Page_xix">xix</a>, <a href="#Page_xx">xx</a>;<br />
+his favorite poems, <a href="#Page_vi">vi</a>, <a href="#Page_ix">ix-xi</a>, <a href="#Page_xxi">xxi</a>;<br />
+his moral character, <a href="#Page_xiv">xiv-xvii</a>;<br />
+his literary inspirations, <a href="#Page_xii">xii</a>, <a href="#Page_xvi">xvi-xix</a>, <a href="#Page_xxiii">xxiii</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>;<br />
+as a dramatic critic, <a href="#Page_xvii">xvii-xix</a>;<br />
+as a literary artist, <a href="#Page_xix">xix-xxiii</a>;<br />
+his taste for humor, <a href="#Page_xx">xx</a>;<br />
+birth <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>;<br />
+youth, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>;<br />
+education, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>;<br />
+profession, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>;<br />
+
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>
+
+religion, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>;<br />
+statecraft, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>;<br />
+character, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>;<br />
+death, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138-207</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln</span>": title of poems by Becker, Charlotte, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>;<br />
+Boker, George Henry, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;<br />
+Cheney, John Vance, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>;<br />
+Cranch, Christopher Pearse, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>;<br />
+Dunbar, Paul Lawrence, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;<br />
+Davis, Noah, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>;<br />
+Halpin, Charles Graham, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>;<br />
+Hooper, Lucy Hamilton, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>;<br />
+Hosmer, Frederick Lucian, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>;<br />
+Howe, Julia Ward, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>;<br />
+Mitchell, S. Weir, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>;<br />
+Monroe, Harriet, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>;<br />
+Smith, Wilbur Hazelton, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>;<br />
+Trowbridge, John Townsend, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Abraham</span>": title of poems by, Cary, Alice, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>;<br />
+Cary, Phoebe, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>;<br />
+Cooke, Rose Terry, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>;<br />
+Dickinson, Charles Monroe, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>;<br />
+Hall, Eugene J., <a href="#Page_200">200</a>;<br />
+Sangster, Margaret Elizabeth, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>;<br />
+Townsend, George Alfred, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Abraham, Foully Assassinated</span>": cartoon in London <i>Punch</i>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>;<br />
+poem by Tom Taylor on, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Ambrotypes of</span>: <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln and Cabinet</span>": painting by Frank B. Carpenter, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln and Stanton</span>": poem by Marion Mills Miller, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln As Candidate for Senator</span>": ambrotype by Gilmer, 1858, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln at Springfield, 1861</span>": poem by Anna Bache, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln at the Time of Debate with Douglas</span>": ambrotype in 1858, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Bas-relief Head of</span>: by James W. Tuft, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Bust of</span>: by Johannes Gelert, <a href="#Page_iv">iv</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln by the Cabin Fire</span>": picture, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln called to the Presidency</span>": poem by Henry Wilson Clendenin, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Cartoons of</span>: "Abraham Lincoln Foully Assassinated," <a href="#Page_140">140</a>;<br />
+"Honest Abe," <a href="#Page_55">55</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln, 1809&mdash;February 12, 1909</span>" poem by Madison Cawein, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln, 1865</span>": poem by John Nichol, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Death of</span>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Hand of</span>: cast by Leonard W. Volk, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Head of</span>: in marble, by Borglum, at Washington, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln in His Office Chair</span>": poem by James Riley, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Life-Mask of</span>: by Leonard W. Volk, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Medallion of</span>: Bronze Head in Commemoration of Lincoln Centenary, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Mendelssohn, Darwin</span>": poem by Clarence E. Carr, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>;<br />
+portraits of, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Monuments of</span>: Lincoln Memorial at Washington, by Bacon, Henry, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>;<br />
+Lincoln Monument in Springfield, Ill., by Mead, Larken G., <a href="#Page_182">182</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Office Chair of</span>: picture, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Photographs of</span>: Brady's, <i><a href="#i000">frontispiece</a></i>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>;<br />
+Fassett's, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>;<br />
+Gardner's, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>;<br />
+Gilmer's, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>;<br />
+Hesler's, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>;<br />
+by unidentified photographers, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Pictures of</span>: "Boy Lincoln, The," by Eastman Johnson, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>;<br />
+"Lincoln, by the Cabin Fire," <a href="#Page_16">16</a>;<br />
+"Rail Splitter, The," <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Poetic Spirit of</span>": introduction by Marion Mills Miller, <a href="#Page_v">v</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Portrait Paintings of</span>: "A Study of Lincoln," by Campbell, Blendon, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>;<br />
+in "Lincoln and Cabinet," by Carpenter, Frank B., <a href="#Page_206">206</a>;<br />
+by Hicks, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln, President, To</span>," poem by Edmund Ollier, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln's Church in Washington</span>": picture of, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>;<br />
+poem by Lyman Whitney Allen, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Soldier of Christ</span>": poem in <i>Macmillan's Magazine</i>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Speeches of</span>: in Independence Hall, Philadelphia, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>;<br />
+on leaving Springfield, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Studies of</span>: by Ball, in Boston, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, and in Washington, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>;<br />
+by Bissell, in Edinburgh, Scotland, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>;<br />
+by Borglum in Newark, N.&nbsp;J., <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>;<br />
+by Flannery, in Washington, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>;<br />
+by French, in Lincoln, Neb., <a href="#Page_226">226</a>;<br />
+by Ganiere, in Burlington, Wis., <a href="#Page_228">228</a>;<br />
+by Niehaus, in Muskegon, Mich., <a href="#Page_203">203</a>;<br />
+by Ream, in Washington, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>;<br />
+by Rogers, in Philadelphia, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>;<br />
+by Saint Gaudens, in Chicago, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>;<br />
+by Weinman, in Hodgenville, Ky., <a href="#Page_126">126</a>;<br />
+by Volk, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln the Laborer</span>": poem by Richard Henry Stoddard, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln the Man of the People</span>": poem by Edwin Markham, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Lincoln Boulder, The</span>": picture of, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>;<br />
+
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>
+
+poem on, by Louis Bradford Couch, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln Homestead</span>, Springfield, Ill.: picture of, in 1861, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>;<br />
+in 1865, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap"><a name="Lincoln_Nancy" id="Lincoln_Nancy">Lincoln, Nancy</a> Hanks</span>, mother of Lincoln: tomb of, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>;<br />
+poem on, by Harriet Monroe, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Neb.</span>: statue of Lincoln in, by French. <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Sarah Bush</span>, stepmother of Lincoln: cabin of, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>;<br />
+her parting from Lincoln, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Thomas</span>, father of Lincoln: cabin of, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lincoln, Thomas</span> ("Tad"), son of Lincoln: portrait of, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Locke, David R.</span>, see <span class="smcap"><a href="#Nasby">Nasby, Petroleum V.</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Log Cabin, The</span>," birthplace of Lincoln: picture of, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lord, James Judson</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>;<br />
+poem at dedication of Lincoln Monument at Springfield, Ill., by, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Lowell, James Russell</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>;<br />
+poem, "Commemoration Ode," by, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="M" id="M">M</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Mackay, James</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Cenotaph of Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Mackay, Robert</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>;<br />
+poem, "The House where Lincoln Died," by, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Macmillan's Magazine</span>: poem, "Lincoln, Soldier of Christ," in, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Man Lincoln, The</span>": poem by Wilbur Dick Nesbit, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Markham, Edwin</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln the Man of the People," by, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Martyr President, The</span>": poem, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Mason, Walt</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Eyes of Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Master, The</span>": poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Matchless Lincoln, The</span>": poem by Isaac Bassett Choate, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Mead, Larken G.</span>, architect: Lincoln Monument at Springfield, Ill., by, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Mendelssohn, Darwin, Lincoln</span>": poem by Clarence E. Carr, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>;<br />
+portraits of, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Miller, Marion Mills</span>: editorial assistance by, in "The Poets' Lincoln," <i><a href="#ACKNOWLEDGMENT">Acknowledgment</a></i>;<br />
+introduction by, <a href="#Page_v">v</a>;<br />
+sketch of, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln and Stanton," by, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Mitchell, S. Weir</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Monroe, Harriet</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>;<br />
+poems, "Nancy Hanks," <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, and "Lincoln," <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Muskegon, Mich.</span>: statue of Lincoln in, by Niehaus, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">My Childhood's Home I See Again</span>": poem by Lincoln, <a href="#Page_vi">vi</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="N" id="N">N</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap"><a name="Nasby" id="Nasby">Nasby, Petroleum V.</a></span>" (David R. Locke), humorist: Lincoln's fondness for, <a href="#Page_xx">xx</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Natal Day of Lincoln, The</span>": poem by James Phinney Baxter, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Nesbit, Wilbur Dick</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Man Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Newark, N.&nbsp;J.</span>, Statue of Lincoln in, by Borglum, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Newton, William Wilberforce</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>;<br />
+poem, "Leader of His People," by, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">New York Avenue Presbyterian Church, Washington</span>: picture of, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">New York City</span>: obsequies of Lincoln at, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Nichol, John</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln, 1865," by, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Nicolay, John G.</span>, secretary of Lincoln: his account of Lincoln's lectures, <a href="#Page_xix">xix</a>;<br />
+portrait of, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Niehaus, Charles</span>, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Nyack, N.&nbsp;Y.</span>: Lincoln Boulder at, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="O" id="O">O</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Oak Ridge Cemetery, Springfield, Ill.</span>: views in, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">O Captain! My Captain!</span>" poem by Walt Whitman, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Ode</span>" on Lincoln's obsequies: by Henry T. Tuckerman, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Oh, Patient Eyes!</span>" poem by Hermann Hagedorn, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Oh, Why Should the Spirit of Mortal be Proud?</span>" by William Knox, favorite poem of Lincoln, <a href="#Page_vi">vi</a>, <a href="#Page_ix">ix</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Oldroyd, Osborn H.</span>: editor of "The Poets' Lincoln"; his purpose, <i><a href="#FOREWORD">Foreword</a></i>;<br />
+his collection of Lincoln memorials, <i><a href="#FOREWORD">Foreword</a></i>;<br />
+owner of Lincoln's office chair, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Ollier, Edmund</span>: poem, "To President Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">One of Our Presidents</span>": poem by Wendell Phillips Stafford, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">On Freedom's Summit</span>": poem by Charles G. Foltz, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">O'Reilly, Miles</span>," see <span class="smcap"><a href="#Halpin">Halpin, Charles Graham</a></span>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="P" id="P">P</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Peaceful Life, A</span>": poem by James Whitcomb Riley, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Phelps, Elizabeth Stuart</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Thoughts of Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Philadelphia</span>: speech of Lincoln at, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>;<br />
+statue of Lincoln in, by Rogers, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>;<br />
+tablet to Lincoln in, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Piatt, John James</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>;<br />
+
+<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>
+
+poem, "Sonnet in 1862," by, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Poetical Tribute to the Memory of Abraham Lincoln</span>": by Emily J. Bugbee, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Poetic Spirit of Lincoln</span>": introduction by Marion Mills Miller, <a href="#Page_v">v</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Polk, James K.</span>, President: Lincoln's arraignment of, <a href="#Page_xvi">xvi</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Presidential Campaign, 1860</span>": poem by William Henry Burleigh, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Proctor, Edna Dean</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Grave of Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Punch, London</span>: poem on "Abraham Lincoln Foully Assassinated," in, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="R" id="R">R</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Rail Splitter, The</span>": picture, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Ream Vinnie</span>, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Repeal of Missouri Compromise</span>: Lincoln's speech on, <a href="#Page_xv">xv-xvii</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Republican Convention of 1860</span>: reference to, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Requiem</span>": poem by James Nicoll Johnston, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Requiem of Lincoln</span>": poem by Richard Storrs Willis, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Rest, Rest for Him</span>": poem by Harriet McEwen Kimball, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Riley, James</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln in His Office Chair," by, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Riley, James Whitcomb</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>;<br />
+poem, "A Peaceful Life," by, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Robinson, Edwin Arlington</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Master," by, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Rogers, Randolph</span>, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Rotunda, City Hall, New York</span>: picture of, at time of Lincoln's obsequies, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="S" id="S">S</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Saint Gaudens, Augustus</span>, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">St. James Hall, Buffalo, N.&nbsp;Y.</span>: picture of, at time of Lincoln obsequies, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Sangster, Margaret Elizabeth</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>;<br />
+poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Schuyler, Hamilton</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>;<br />
+poem, "A Characterization of Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Scotland Statue, The</span>": poem by David K. Watson, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Second Inaugural, Lincoln's</span>": poem by Benjamin Franklin Taylor, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Services in Memory of Abraham Lincoln</span>": poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Seward, William H.</span>, Secretary of State: suggests closing passage of Lincoln's First Inaugural, <a href="#Page_xxii">xxii-xxiii</a>;<br />
+portrait in "Lincoln and Cabinet," <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span>: Lincoln's fondness for, <a href="#Page_xvi">xvi-xix</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Sherman, Frank Dempster</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>;<br />
+poem, "On a Bronze Medal of Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Sic Semper Tyrannis!</span>", poem by Robert Leighton, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Slavery</span>: Lincoln on, <a href="#Page_xii">xii</a>, <a href="#Page_xv">xv-xvii</a>;<br />
+the Dred Scott Decision, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>;<br />
+Lincoln the emancipator, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Smith, Samuel Francis</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Tomb of Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Smith, Wilbur Hazelton</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Sonnet</span> in 1862": poem by John James Piatt, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Speed, Lucy G.</span>: autographed portrait of himself given by Lincoln to, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Springfield, Ill.</span>: homestead of Lincoln at, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>;<br />
+Lincoln's funeral at, <a href="#Page_172">172-181</a>;<br />
+state capitol at, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>;<br />
+public vault in Oak Ridge cemetery at, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>;<br />
+monument to Lincoln at, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Springfield's Welcome To Lincoln</span>": poem by William Allen, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Stafford, Wendell Phillips</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>;<br />
+poem, "One of Our Presidents," by, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>;<br />
+reference to, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Stanton, Edwin M.</span>: tribute to Lincoln dead, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>;<br />
+portrait, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>;<br />
+poem on, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>;<br />
+portrait of, in "Lincoln and Cabinet," <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Stedman, Edmund Clarence</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Hand of Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>;<br />
+poem, "Honest Abe of the West," by, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Stevens, Hiram F.</span>: tribute to Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Stewart, James M.</span>: poem, "Let the President Sleep," by, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Stickle, Thompson</span>: designer of monument of Nancy Hanks Lincoln, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Stoddard, Richard Henry</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>;<br />
+passages from his "Horatian Ode," <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Study of Lincoln, A</span>": painting by Blendon Campbell, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="T" id="T">T</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Taylor, Bayard</span>: sketch of <a href="#Page_102">102</a>;<br />
+poem, "Geyttsburg Ode," by, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Taylor, Benjamin Franklin</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln's Second Inaugural," by, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Taylor, Tom</span>: poem, "Abraham Lincoln, Foully Assassinated," by, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Thoughts of Lincoln, The</span>": poem by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Tiefenthaler, Josephine Oldroyd</span>, child guide in the "House where Lincoln Died": portrait, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>;<br />
+reference to, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Tomb of Lincoln, The</span>": poem by Samuel Francis Smith, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Townsend, George Alfred</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>;<br />
+poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Trowbridge, John Townsend</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>;<br />
+poem, "Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Tuckerman, Henry T.</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>;<br />
+"Ode" on Lincoln's obsequies, by, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Tuft, James W.</span>, sculptor: bas-relief Head of Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="U" id="U">U</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Unfinished Work, The</span>": Poem by Joseph Fulford Folsom, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Union, The</span>: Lincoln on, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Usher, J.&nbsp;P.</span>, Secretary of the Interior: portrait of, in "Lincoln and Cabinet," <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="V" id="V">V</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Voice of Lincoln, The</span>," Poem by Elizabeth Porter Gould, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Volk, Leonard W.</span>, sculptor: Life-Mask of Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>;<br />
+cast of Hand of Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>;<br />
+statue of Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</p>
+
+<h3 style="text-align: left;"><br /><a name="W" id="W">W</a><span class="retop"><a href="#INDEX" title="Top of Index">ABC</a></span></h3>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap"><a name="Ward_Artemus" id="Ward_Artemus">Ward, Artemus</a></span> (Charles F. Browne) humorist: Lincoln's fondness for, <a href="#Page_xx">xx</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Washington</span>, D.&nbsp;C.: statues of Lincoln in, by Ball, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>;<br />
+Flannery, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>;<br />
+Ream, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>;<br />
+marble head of Lincoln by Borglum, in, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>;<br />
+Lincoln Memorial by Bacon in, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>;<br />
+picture of Capitol, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>;<br />
+of White House, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>;<br />
+funeral of Lincoln in, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Washington, George</span>: Lincoln's poetic tribute to, <a href="#Page_xix">xix</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Watson, David K.</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Scotland Statue," by, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Webster, Daniel</span>: originator of closing sentence of Lincoln's Gettysburg speech, <a href="#Page_xxi">xxi</a>, <a href="#Page_xxii">xxii</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Weinmann, Adolph A.</span>, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Welles, Gideon</span>, Secretary of the Navy: portrait of, in "Lincoln and Cabinet," <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Wells, Amos Russell</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>;<br />
+poem, "Had Lincoln Lived," by, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">When Lincoln Died</span>": poem by James Arthur Edgerton, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>.<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Where Lincoln Worshipped</span>": picture of N.&nbsp;Y. Ave. Presbyterian Church, Washington, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">White House at Washington</span>: picture and description of, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>;<br />
+funeral of Lincoln in, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Whitman, Walt</span>: autographed portrait of, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>;<br />
+sketch of, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>;<br />
+poem, "O Captain! My Captain!" by, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Whitney, Henry C.</span>: author of "Life of Lincoln," <a href="#Page_v">v</a>;<br />
+on Lincoln's poetic sensibility, <a href="#Page_xi">xi</a>, <a href="#Page_xxi">xxi</a>;<br />
+on his habit of reading, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>;<br />
+on Lincoln as a lawyer, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Whittier, John Greenleaf</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Emancipation Group," by, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>;<br />
+reference to, <a href="#Page_v">v</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+"<span class="smcap">Wigwam, The</span>," Republican convention hall, Chicago, 1860: picture of, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Wilcox, Ella Wheeler</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>;<br />
+poem, "The Glory that Slumbered in the Granite Rock," by, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="indx2">
+<span class="smcap">Willis, Richard Storrs</span>: sketch of, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>;<br />
+poem, "Requiem of Lincoln," by, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="trns">
+
+     <h2><a name="TRANS" id="TRANS">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:</a></h2>
+
+     <p>Every effort has been made to faithfully reproduce the original book
+     in this etext. The inconsistent, alternate and archaic spelling and
+     usage that one would expect in a collection of poets and authors from
+     1915 and earlier have been preserved. Errors in the Index, obvious
+     and simple enough to be assumed typesetter's errors, have been
+     corrected. Other problems and corrections are listed below.</p>
+
+     <table class="transnotes" summary="">
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Page:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">1</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Text:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft"><a href="#trans1">extends his grateful acknowledgment</a><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span></td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Change:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">acknowledgement changed to acknowledgment (to match spelling of section title)</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Page:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">6</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Text:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft"><a href="#trans6">Abraham Lincoln Foully Assassinated, by Tom Taylor</a></td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Change:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">removed comma after Taylor</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Page:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">11</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Text:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft"><a href="#trans11">The Funeral of Lincoln, in East Room of White House</a></td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Change:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">removed comma after White House</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Page:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">xvi</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Text:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft"><a href="#transxvi">Yours truly,</a></td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Change:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">Comma added</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Page:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">xvii</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Text:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft"><a href="#transxvii">It matters not to me whether Shakspeare be well or ill acted</a></td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Change:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">Shakespeare changed to Shakspeare (alternate spelling used by Carpenter)</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Page:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">xx</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Text:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft"><a href="#transxx">performed this function in a still more</a></td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Change:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">added the word "in"</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Page:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">22</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Text:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft"><a href="#trans22">Like all great souls with vision unobscured</a></td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Change:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">version changed to vision</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Page:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">116</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Text:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft"><a href="#trans116">May be forgotten by and by</a></td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Change:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">fogotten changed to forgotten</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Page:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">117</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Text:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft"><a href="#trans117">Shrewd, hallowed, harassed</a></td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Change:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">harrassed changed to harassed</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Page:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">172</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Text:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft"><a href="#trans172a">(5) Hon. W. H. Wallace, Idaho</a><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span></td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Change:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">Walace change to Wallace</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Page:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">172</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Text:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft"><a href="#trans172b">(3) Hon. Lyman Trumbull, Illinois</a></td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Change:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">Hon changed to Hon.</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Page:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">189</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Text:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft"><a href="#trans189">And hang my wreath on his world-honored urn</a></td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Change:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">wealth changed to wreath</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Page:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">216</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Text:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft"><a href="#trans216a">He filled the Nation's eyes and heart</a></td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Change:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">We changed to He</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Page:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">216</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Text:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft"><a href="#trans216b">Pathetic, kindly, droll or stern</a></td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Change:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">added comma after Pathetic</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Page:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">223</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Text:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft"><a href="#trans223">Here, Captain! dear Father!</a></td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Change:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">Hear changed to Here</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Page:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">243</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Text:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft"><a href="#trans243">funds to remove it from</a></td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Change:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">extra "to" removed</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Page:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">252</td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Text:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft"><a href="#trans252">The George A. Fuller Company of Washington</a></td></tr>
+     <tr><td class="tdright">Change:&nbsp;</td><td class="tdleft">removed comma after Company</td></tr>
+     </table>
+
+    <p><a href="#trans109">Harper's Bazar</a> (page 109) did not change the spelling to Bazaar until
+    about 1929.</p>
+
+    <p>No poet is mentioned for <a href="#poem145">"The Deathbed"</a> on page 145. However, this
+    poem seems to be "Now He Belongs to the Ages" by William L. Stidger,
+    from The Lincoln Book of Poems, published by R. G. Badger, copyright
+    1911, page 30. (available on archive.org)</p>
+
+    <p>Pages <a href="#transv">v</a>, <a href="#transvi">vi</a> and <a href="#transvii">vii</a> refer to Lincoln's correspondent as both Johnson
+    and Johnston. Left as printed.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poets' Lincoln, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POETS' LINCOLN ***
+
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poets' Lincoln, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Poets' Lincoln
+       Tributes in Verse to the Martyred President
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Osborn H. Oldroyd
+
+Release Date: November 7, 2009 [EBook #30420]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POETS' LINCOLN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by K Nordquist and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: (Frontispiece)
+
+           PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1864]
+
+
+
+
+                                The
+                           Poets' Lincoln
+
+                      TRIBUTES IN VERSE TO THE
+                         MARTYRED PRESIDENT
+
+
+                           _Selected by_
+
+                         OSBORN H. OLDROYD
+
+          AUTHOR OF "THE ASSASSINATION OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN"
+                AND EDITOR OF THE "WORDS OF LINCOLN"
+
+                  _With many portraits of Lincoln,
+                      illustrations of events
+                         in his life, etc._
+
+
+                     PUBLISHED BY THE EDITOR AT
+                   "THE HOUSE WHERE LINCOLN DIED"
+
+                         WASHINGTON, D. C.
+
+                                1915
+
+
+                          Copyright 1915,
+                        by OSBORN H. OLDROYD
+
+
+
+
+ACKNOWLEDGMENT
+
+
+The Editor is most grateful to the various authors who have willingly
+given their consent to the use of their respective poems in the
+compilation of this volume. It has been a somewhat difficult problem,
+not only to select the more appropriate productions, but also to find
+the names of their authors, for in his Lincoln collection there are
+many hundreds of poems which have appeared from time to time in
+magazines, newspapers and other productions, some of which are
+accompanied by more than one name as author of the same poem. In a
+number of instances it has been difficult to ascertain the name of the
+actual owner of the copyright, the poems having been printed in so
+many forms without the copyright mark attached.
+
+The Editor in particular extends his grateful acknowledgment to the
+Houghton Mifflin Company for permission to reprint the "Emancipation
+Group" by John G. Whittier; the "Life Mask" by Richard Watson Gilder;
+"The Hand of Lincoln" by Clarence Stedman; "Commemoration Ode" by
+James Russell Lowell, and the "Gettysburg Address" by Bayard Taylor;
+to Charles Scribner's Sons for two "Lincoln" poems by Richard Henry
+Stoddard; and to the J. B. Lippincott Company for the poem "Lincoln"
+by George Henry Boker.
+
+The Editor is also grateful to Dr. Marion Mills Miller for his
+contribution of the introduction and a poem specially written for the
+collection, and also for assistance in the editorial work.
+
+
+
+
+FOREWORD
+
+
+No great man has ever been spoken of with such tender expressions of
+high regard as has been Abraham Lincoln. Especially is this true of the
+tributes of esteem made by the poets to his memory. It is therefore
+desirable that these should be preserved for future generations, and at
+this time, the fiftieth anniversary of his untimely death, it is
+peculiarly proper that they should be presented to the public.
+
+Although they are chiefly the productions of American authors, quite a
+number are from the pens of appreciative citizens of other countries.
+From the thousand of meritorious poems which have been written about
+Lincoln, the compiler, after serious consideration, has selected those
+within as appearing to be gems; although there were others which he
+would have been glad to include if space permitted.
+
+The poems and illustrations are arranged largely in the chronological
+order of their application to the events in the life of Lincoln. The
+intense sympathy and warm appreciation portrayed therein for our
+Martyred President, as well as their artistic merit assure the poems
+a sacred place in the heart of every patriotic American.
+
+The large number of selected portraits and illustrations of events
+connected with his life, service, death and burial, with brief
+sketches of authors of the following poems, also forms a compilation
+of rich material for all readers of Lincoln literature.
+
+The object in publishing this compilation is to assist in preserving
+the collection of memorials now contained in the house in which
+Lincoln died, 516 Tenth Street, Washington, D. C.
+
+The volume will be sent postpaid by the Editor at the above address,
+upon receipt of its price, $1.00.
+
+                                                  OSBORN H. OLDROYD.
+
+  Washington, D. C., September twelve,
+    Nineteen hundred and fifteen.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                                 PAGE
+  INTRODUCTION--The Poetic Spirit of Lincoln, by Marion Mills
+        Miller .................................................... v
+    MY CHILDHOOD'S HOME I SEE AGAIN, by Abraham Lincoln .......... vi
+    BUT HERE'S AN OBJECT MORE OF DREAD, by Abraham Lincoln ..... viii
+    OH, WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL BE PROUD? By William
+        Knox ..................................................... ix
+    SPEECH AT GETTYSBURG (in verse form), by Abraham Lincoln ... xiii
+    SOLILOQUY OF KING CLAUDIUS, by William Shakespeare ......... xvii
+  LINCOLN, by Julia Ward Howe .................................... 14
+  THE GREAT OAK, by Bennett Chapple .............................. 15
+  LINCOLN, by Noah Davis ......................................... 17
+  THE BIRTH OF LINCOLN, by George W. Crofts ...................... 19
+  MENDELSSOHN, DARWIN, LINCOLN, by Clarence E. Carr .............. 20
+  THE NATAL DAY OF LINCOLN, by James Phinney Baxter .............. 22
+  NANCY HANKS, by Harriet Monroe ................................. 25
+  LINCOLN THE LABORER, by Richard Henry Stoddard ................. 29
+  A PEACEFUL LIFE, by James Whitcomb Riley ....................... 31
+  LEADER OF HIS PEOPLE, by William Wilberforce Newton ............ 32
+  LINCOLN, by Wilbur Hazelton Smith .............................. 35
+  LINCOLN IN HIS OFFICE CHAIR, by James Riley .................... 37
+  THE VOICE OF LINCOLN, by Elizabeth Porter Gould ................ 41
+  THE THOUGHTS OF LINCOLN, by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps ............ 43
+  ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by Richard Watson
+        Gilder ................................................... 45
+  THE HAND OF LINCOLN, by Edmund Clarence Stedman ................ 47
+  HONEST ABE OF THE WEST, by Edmund Clarence Stedman ............. 51
+  PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN, 1860, by William Henry Burleigh ......... 53
+  LINCOLN, 1809--FEBRUARY 12, 1909, by Madison Cawein ............ 56
+  THE MATCHLESS LINCOLN, by Isaac Bassett Choate ................. 59
+  LINCOLN, by Charlotte Becker ................................... 61
+  LINCOLN AT SPRINGFIELD, 1861, by Anna Bache .................... 65
+  LINCOLN CALLED TO THE PRESIDENCY, by Henry Wilson
+        Clendenin ................................................ 70
+  LINCOLN THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE, by Edwin Markham ................ 74
+  LINCOLN, by John Vance Cheney .................................. 76
+  LINCOLN'S CHURCH IN WASHINGTON, by Lyman Whitney Allen ......... 80
+  SONNET IN 1862, by John James Piatt ............................ 83
+  LINCOLN, SOLDIER OF CHRIST, in Macmillan's Magazine ............ 85
+  A CHARACTERIZATION OF LINCOLN, by Hamilton Schuyler ............ 87
+  THE EMANCIPATION GROUP, by John Greenleaf Whittier ............. 91
+  THE LIBERATOR, by Theron Brown ................................. 94
+  TO PRESIDENT LINCOLN, by Edmund Ollier ......................... 96
+  ON FREEDOM'S SUMMIT, by Charles G. Foltz ....................... 98
+  ADDRESS DELIVERED AT THE DEDICATION OF THE CEMETERY AT
+        GETTYSBURG, by Abraham Lincoln .......................... 100
+  GETTYSBURG ODE, by Bayard Taylor .............................. 102
+  LINCOLN'S SECOND INAUGURAL, by Benjamin Franklin Taylor ....... 104
+  OH, PATIENT EYES! by Herman Hagedorn .......................... 107
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by Margaret Elizabeth Sangster ............... 109
+  THE MAN LINCOLN, by Wilbur Dick Nesbit ........................ 113
+  THE MASTER, by Edwin Arlington Robinson ....................... 116
+  LINCOLN, by Harriet Monroe .................................... 119
+  THE EYES OF LINCOLN, by Walt Mason ............................ 121
+  HE LEADS US STILL, by Arthur Guiterman ........................ 123
+  LINCOLN, by S. Weir Mitchell .................................. 125
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by George Alfred Townsend .................... 126
+  LINCOLN, by Paul Lawrence Dunbar .............................. 128
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by Alice Cary ................................ 130
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by Rose Terry Cooke .......................... 132
+  LINCOLN, by Frederick Lucian Hosmer ........................... 134
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by Charles Monroe Dickinson .................. 136
+  SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS! by Robert Leighton ....................... 139
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN FOULLY ASSASSINATED, by Tom Taylor ............ 140
+  THE DEATHBED .................................................. 144
+  LINCOLN AND STANTON, by Marion Mills Miller ................... 146
+  THE HOUSE WHERE LINCOLN DIED, by Robert Mackay ................ 151
+  IN TOKEN OF RESPECT, Translation of Latin Verses .............. 152
+  ENGLAND'S SORROW, from _London Fun_ ........................... 153
+  THE FUNERAL HYMN OF LINCOLN, by Phineas Densmore Gurley ....... 155
+  REST, REST FOR HIM, by Harriet McEwen Kimball ................. 157
+  THE FUNERAL CAR OF LINCOLN, by Richard Henry Stoddard ......... 159
+  THE DEATH OF LINCOLN, by William Cullen Bryant ................ 161
+  ODE, by Henry T. Tuckerman .................................... 163
+  TOLLING, by Lucy Larcom ....................................... 164
+  REQUIEM OF LINCOLN, by Richard Storrs Willis .................. 167
+  REQUIEM, by James Nicoll Johnston ............................. 168
+  SERVICES IN MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by Oliver Wendell
+        Holmes .................................................. 170
+  SPRINGFIELD'S WELCOME TO LINCOLN, by William Allen ............ 173
+  LINCOLN, by Lucy Hamilton Hooper .............................. 175
+  LET THE PRESIDENT SLEEP, by James M. Stewart .................. 179
+  THE CENOTAPH OF LINCOLN, by James Mackay ...................... 181
+  DEDICATION POEM, by James Judson Lord ......................... 183
+  THE GRAVE OF LINCOLN, by Edna Dean Proctor .................... 186
+  COMMEMORATION ODE, by James Russell Lowell .................... 189
+  AN HORATIAN ODE, by Richard Henry Stoddard .................... 193
+  O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! by Walt Whitman ........................ 197
+  ON THE ASSASSINATION OF LINCOLN, by Henry De Garrs ............ 200
+  POETICAL TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN,
+        by Emily J. Bugbee ...................................... 201
+  LINCOLN, 1865, by John Nichol ................................. 204
+  LINCOLN, by Christopher Pearse Cranch ......................... 206
+  LINCOLN, by George Henry Boker ................................ 208
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by Phoebe Cary ............................... 210
+  LINCOLN, by Charles Graham Halpin ("Miles O'Reilly") .......... 215
+  THE MARTYR PRESIDENT .......................................... 219
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN, by Eugene J. Hall ............................ 220
+  THE TOMB OF LINCOLN, by Samuel Francis Smith .................. 222
+  LINCOLN, by John Townsend Trowbridge .......................... 227
+  HOMAGE DUE TO LINCOLN, by Kinahan Cornwallis .................. 229
+  THE SCOTLAND STATUE, by David K. Watson ....................... 231
+  THE UNFINISHED WORK, by Joseph Fulford Folsom ................. 234
+  ONE OF OUR PRESIDENTS, by Wendell Philips Stafford ............ 236
+  ON A BRONZE MEDAL OF LINCOLN, by Frank Dempster Sherman ....... 239
+  THE GLORY THAT SLUMBERED IN THE GRANITE ROCK,
+        by Ella Wheeler Wilcox .................................. 241
+  THE LINCOLN BOULDER, by Louis Bradford Couch .................. 243
+  WHEN LINCOLN DIED, by James Arthur Edgerton ................... 247
+  HAD LINCOLN LIVED, by Amos Russell Wells ...................... 250
+  LET HIS MONUMENT RISE, by Samuel Green Wheeler Benjamin ....... 253
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+                                                                 PAGE
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1864 ....... _Frontispiece_
+  LINCOLN, from a Bust by Johannes Gelert ........................ iv
+  THE LOG CABIN, Birthplace of Lincoln ........................... 13
+  LINCOLN BY THE CABIN FIRE ...................................... 16
+  MENDELSSOHN, DARWIN, LINCOLN ................................... 20
+  MONUMENT TO THE MOTHER OF LINCOLN .............................. 25
+  THE RAIL SPLITTER .............................................. 28
+  THE BOY LINCOLN, by Eastman Johnson ............................ 30
+  LINCOLN THE LAWYER, from an Ambrotype, 1856 .................... 34
+  LINCOLN'S OFFICE CHAIR ......................................... 36
+  LINCOLN AS A CANDIDATE FOR UNITED STATES SENATOR, from an
+        Ambrotype by Gilmer, 1858 ................................ 40
+  LINCOLN AT THE TIME OF DEBATE WITH DOUGLAS, from an Ambrotype,
+        1858 ..................................................... 42
+  THE LINCOLN LIFE-MASK, by Leonard W. Volk ...................... 44
+  THE HAND OF LINCOLN, a Cast by Leonard W. Volk ................. 46
+  HON. ABRAHAM LINCOLN, REPUBLICAN CANDIDATE FOR THE PRESIDENCY,
+        1860, painted by Hicks ................................... 49
+  THE "WIGWAM," Convention Hall in Chicago, 1860 ................. 50
+  LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT, from an Ambrotype, 1860 .... 52
+  "HONEST ABE," Campaign Cartoon of 1860 ......................... 55
+  LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT, Photograph by Hesler,
+        Chicago, 1860 ............................................ 58
+  LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT, Photograph at
+        Springfield, Ill., 1860 .................................. 60
+  CABIN OF LINCOLN'S PARENTS, on Goose-Nest Prairie, Ill. ........ 62
+  LINCOLN HOMESTEAD, Springfield, Ill., 1861 ..................... 64
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND HIS SECRETARIES, JOHN G. NICOLAY AND
+        JOHN HAY, Photograph at Springfield, Ill., 1861 .......... 67
+  INDEPENDENCE HALL, PHILADELPHIA ................................ 69
+  LINCOLN IN 1858, Photograph by S. M. Fassett, Chicago .......... 71
+  THE CAPITOL, at Second Inauguration of Lincoln ................. 73
+  THE WHITE HOUSE ................................................ 76
+  WHERE LINCOLN WORSHIPPED, New York Avenue Presbyterian Church,
+        Washington, D. C. ........................................ 79
+  LINCOLN IN 1858, Photograph Owned by Stuart Brown,
+        Springfield, Ill. ........................................ 82
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph Autographed for Miss Speed ....... 84
+  LINCOLN IN FEBRUARY, 1860, Photograph by Brady ................. 86
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Gardner ....................... 88
+  EMANCIPATION GROUP, in Park Square, Boston ..................... 90
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1863 ................... 93
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Gardner, 1863 ................. 95
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady ......................... 97
+  LINCOLN AT GETTYSBURG ......................................... 100
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND HIS SON THOMAS ("TAD") .................. 103
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady ........................ 106
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady ........................ 108
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Gardner, 1864 ................ 112
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN AT ANTIETAM ................................. 115
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Gardner, 1864 ................ 118
+  PRESIDENT-ELECT LINCOLN, Photograph at Springfield, Ill.,
+        1861 .................................................... 120
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1862 .................. 122
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1864 .................. 124
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN in Hodgenville, Ky.; Adolph A. Weinman,
+        sculptor ................................................ 126
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1864 .................. 128
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Gardner, 1865 ................ 130
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Gardner, 1865 ................ 132
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1865 .................. 134
+  FORD'S THEATRE, WASHINGTON, D. C. ............................. 138
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN, FOULLY ASSASSINATED,
+        Cartoon in London _Punch_ ............................... 140
+  DEATHBED OF LINCOLN ........................................... 144
+  ABRAHAM LINCOLN AND EDWIN M. STANTON .......................... 146
+  DEATH OF LINCOLN .............................................. 149
+  HOUSE IN WHICH LINCOLN DIED ................................... 150
+  JOSEPHINE OLDROYD TIEFENTHALER ................................ 150
+  THE FUNERAL OF LINCOLN, in East Room of White House ........... 154
+  THE FUNERAL CAR ............................................... 158
+  CITY HALL, NEW YORK, N. Y. .................................... 162
+  ROTUNDA, CITY HALL ............................................ 166
+  ST. JAMES HALL, BUFFALO, N. Y. ................................ 168
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1863 .................. 170
+  LINCOLN HOMESTEAD, May 4, 1865 ................................ 172
+  STATE CAPITOL, ILLINOIS, 1865 ................................. 175
+  PUBLIC VAULT, OAK RIDGE CEMETERY, SPRINGFIELD, ILL. ........... 178
+  FACADE OF PUBLIC VAULT ........................................ 180
+  LINCOLN MONUMENT, in Springfield, Ill., Larken G. Mead,
+        Architect ............................................... 182
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, Lincoln Park, Washington, D. C.,
+        Thomas Ball, sculptor ................................... 188
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, by Leonard W. Volk ......................... 192
+  "THE GOOD GRAY POET" (Walt Whitman) ........................... 196
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Washington, D. C.; Lott Flannery,
+        sculptor ................................................ 199
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Muskegon, Mich.; Charles Niehaus,
+        sculptor ................................................ 203
+  LINCOLN AND CABINET ("First Reading of Emancipation
+        Proclamation"), Painted by Frank B. Carpenter ........... 206
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, Randolph
+        Rogers, sculptor ........................................ 208
+  PRESIDENT LINCOLN, Photograph by Brady, 1864 .................. 210
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Lincoln Park, Chicago; Augustus Saint
+        Gaudens, sculptor ....................................... 214
+  TABLET AT PHILADELPHIA ........................................ 218
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Rotunda of Capitol; Vinnie Ream,
+        sculptor ................................................ 222
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Lincoln, Neb.; Daniel Chester French,
+        sculptor ................................................ 226
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Burlington, Wis.; George E. Ganiere,
+        sculptor ................................................ 228
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Edinburgh, Scotland; George E. Bissell,
+        sculptor ................................................ 231
+  STATUE OF LINCOLN, in Newark, N. J.; Gutzon Borglum,
+        sculptor ................................................ 234
+  CHILDREN ON THE BORGLUM STATUE ................................ 236
+  HEAD OF LINCOLN, Bronze Medallion in Commemoration of Lincoln
+        Centenary, Struck for the Grand Army of the Republic .... 238
+  MARBLE HEAD OF LINCOLN, in Statuary Hall, Capitol; Gutzon
+        Borglum, sculptor ....................................... 240
+  THE LINCOLN BOULDER, at Nyack, N. Y. .......................... 243
+  BAS-RELIEF HEAD OF LINCOLN, James W. Tuft, sculptor ........... 246
+  A STUDY OF LINCOLN, Painting by Blendon Campbell .............. 249
+  THE LINCOLN MEMORIAL, at Washington, D. C., Henry Bacon,
+        architect ............................................... 252
+
+
+
+
+                       [Illustration: LINCOLN
+
+                  From a bust by Johannes Gelert]
+
+
+
+
+                            INTRODUCTION
+
+                    THE POETIC SPIRIT OF LINCOLN
+
+                       By MARION MILLS MILLER
+
+               (See biographical sketch on page 146)
+
+
+Some years ago, while editing Henry C. Whitney's "Life of Lincoln" I
+showed a photograph of the bust of Lincoln by Johannes Gelert, the most
+intellectual to my mind of all the studies of his face, to a little
+Italian shoeblack, and asked him if he knew who it was. The boy,
+evidently prompted by a recent lesson at school, said questioningly,
+"Whittier?--Longfellow?" I replied, "No, it is Lincoln, the great
+President." He answered, "Well, he looks like a poet, anyway."
+
+This verified a conclusion to which I had already come: Lincoln, had
+he lived in a region of greater culture, such as New England, might
+not have adopted the engrossing pursuits of law and politics, but, as
+did Whittier, have remained longer on the farm and gradually taken up
+the calling of letters, composing verse of much the same order as our
+Yankee bards', and poetry of even higher merit than some produced.
+
+It is not generally known that Lincoln, shortly before he went to
+Congress, wrote verse of a kind to compare favorably with the early
+attempts of American poets such as those named. Thus the two poems of
+his which have been preserved, for his early lampoons on his neighbors
+have happily been lost, are equal in poetic spirit and metrical art to
+Whittier's "The Prisoner for Debt," to which they are strikingly
+similar in melancholic mood.
+
+In 1846, at the age of 37, Lincoln conducted a literary correspondence
+with a friend, William Johnson by name, of like poetic tastes. In
+April of this year he wrote the following letter to Johnson:
+
+
+                                        Tremont, April 18, 1846.
+
+     FRIEND JOHNSTON: Your letter, written some six weeks since,
+     was received in due course, and also the paper with the
+     parody. It is true, as suggested it might be, that I have
+     never seen Poe's "Raven"; and I very well know that a parody
+     is almost entirely dependent for its interest upon the
+     reader's acquaintance with the original. Still there is
+     enough in the polecat, self-considered, to afford one
+     several hearty laughs. I think four or five of the last
+     stanzas are decidedly funny, particularly where Jeremiah
+     "scrubbed and washed, and prayed and fasted."
+
+     I have not your letter now before me; but, from memory, I
+     think you ask me who is the author of the piece I sent you,
+     and that you do so ask as to indicate a slight suspicion
+     that I myself am the author. Beyond all question, I am not
+     the author. I would give all I am worth, and go in debt, to
+     be able to write so fine a piece as I think that is. Neither
+     do I know who is the author. I met it in a straggling form
+     in a newspaper last summer, and I remember to have seen it
+     once before, about fifteen years ago, and this is all I know
+     about it.
+
+     The piece of poetry of my own which I alluded to, I was led
+     to write under the following circumstances. In the fall of
+     1844, thinking I might aid some to carry the State of
+     Indiana for Mr. Clay, I went into the neighborhood in that
+     State in which I was raised, where my mother and only sister
+     were buried, and from which I had been absent about fifteen
+     years.
+
+     That part of the country is, within itself, as unpoetical as
+     any spot of the earth; but still, seeing it and its objects
+     and inhabitants aroused feelings in me which were certainly
+     poetry; though whether my expression of those feelings is
+     poetry is quite another question. When I got to writing,
+     the change of subject divided the thing into four little
+     divisions or cantos, the first only of which I send you now,
+     and may send the others hereafter.
+
+                                    Yours truly,
+                                                      A. LINCOLN.
+
+
+                  My childhood's home I see again,
+                    And sadden with the view;
+                  And still, as memory crowds my brain,
+                    There's pleasure in it too.
+
+                  O Memory! thou midway world
+                    'Twixt earth and paradise,
+                  Where things decayed and loved ones lost
+                    In dreamy shadows rise,
+
+                  And, freed from all that's earthly vile,
+                    Seem hallowed, pure and bright,
+                  Like scenes in some enchanted isle
+                    All bathed in liquid light.
+
+                  As dusky mountains please the eye
+                    When twilight chases day;
+                  As bugle-notes that, passing by,
+                    In distance die away;
+
+                  As leaving some grand waterfall,
+                    We, lingering, list its roar--
+                  So memory will hallow all
+                    We've known but know no more.
+
+                  Near twenty years have passed away
+                    Since here I bid farewell
+                  To woods and fields, and scenes of play,
+                    And playmates loved so well.
+
+                  Where many were, but few remain
+                    Of old familiar things;
+                  But seeing them to mind again
+                    The lost and absent brings.
+
+                  The friends I left that parting day,
+                    How changed, as time has sped!
+                  Young childhood grown, strong manhood gray;
+                    And half of all are dead.
+
+                  I hear the loved survivors tell
+                    How nought from death could save,
+                  Till every sound appears a knell,
+                    And every spot a grave.
+
+                  I range the fields with pensive tread,
+                    And pace the hollow rooms,
+                  And feel (companion of the dead)
+                    I'm living in the tombs.
+
+
+In September he wrote the following letter:
+
+
+                                 Springfield, September 6, 1846.
+
+     FRIEND JOHNSTON: You remember when I wrote you from Tremont
+     last spring, sending you a little canto of what I called
+     poetry, I promised to bore you with another some time. I now
+     fulfil the promise. The subject of the present one is an
+     insane man; his name is Matthew Gentry. He is three years
+     older than I, and when we were boys we went to school
+     together. He was rather a bright lad, and the son of the
+     rich man of a very poor neighborhood. At the age of
+     nineteen he unaccountably became furiously mad, from which
+     condition he gradually settled down into harmless insanity.
+     When, as I told you in my other letter, I visited my old
+     home in the fall of 1844, I found him still lingering in
+     this wretched condition. In my poetizing mood, I could not
+     forget the impression his case made upon me. Here is the
+     result:
+
+
+                  But here's an object more of dread
+                    Than aught the grave contains--
+                  A human form with reason fled,
+                    While wretched life remains.
+
+                  When terror spread, and neighbors ran
+                    Your dangerous strength to bind,
+                  And soon, a howling, crazy man,
+                    Your limbs were fast confined;
+
+                  How then you strove and shrieked aloud,
+                    Your bones and sinews bared;
+                  And fiendish on the gazing crowd
+                    With burning eyeballs glared;
+
+                  And begged and swore, and wept and prayed,
+                    With maniac laughter joined;
+                  How fearful were these signs displayed
+                    By pangs that killed the mind!
+
+                  And when at length the drear and long
+                    Time soothed thy fiercer woes,
+                  How plaintively thy mournful song
+                    Upon the still night rose!
+
+                  I've heard it oft as if I dreamed,
+                    Far distant, sweet and lone,
+                  The funeral dirge it ever seemed
+                    Of reason dead and gone.
+
+                  To drink its strains I've stole away,
+                    All stealthily and still,
+                  Ere yet the rising god of day
+                    Had streaked the eastern hill.
+
+                  Air held her breath; trees with the spell
+                    Seemed sorrowing angels round,
+                  Whose swelling tears in dewdrops fell
+                    Upon the listening ground.
+
+                  But this is past, and naught remains
+                    That raised thee o'er the brute:
+                  Thy piercing shrieks and soothing strains
+                    Are like, forever mute.
+
+                  Now fare thee well! More thou the cause
+                    Than subject now of woe.
+                  All mental pangs by time's kind laws
+                    Hast lost the power to know.
+
+                  O death! thou awe-inspiring prince
+                    That keepst the world in fear,
+                  Why dost thou tear more blest ones hence,
+                    And leave him lingering here?
+
+
+     If I should ever send another, the subject will be a "Bear
+     Hunt."
+
+                               Yours as ever,
+                                                         A. LINCOLN.
+
+
+The poem alluded to in the first letter is undoubtedly "Oh, Why Should
+the Spirit of Mortal Be Proud?", by William Knox, a Scottish poet,
+known to fame only by its authorship. It remained the favorite of
+Lincoln until his death, being frequently alluded to by him in
+conversation with his friends. Because it so aptly presents Lincoln's
+own spirit it is here presented in full. During his Presidency he
+said:
+
+
+    "There is a poem which has been a great favorite with me for
+    years, which was first shown me when a young man by a friend,
+    and which I afterwards saw and cut from a newspaper and
+    learned by heart. I would give a good deal to know who wrote
+    it, but I have never been able to ascertain."
+
+
+Then, half closing his eyes, he repeated the verses:
+
+
+                OH, WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL
+                             BE PROUD?
+
+                         By WILLIAM KNOX.
+
+
+     William Knox was born at Firth, in the parish of
+     Lilliesleaf, in the county of Roxburghshire, on the 17th of
+     August, 1789. From his early youth he composed verses. He
+     merited the attention of Sir Walter Scott, who afforded him
+     pecuniary assistance. He died November 12, 1825, at the age
+     of thirty-six.
+
+
+        Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
+        Like a swift-flitting meteor, a fast-flying cloud,
+        The flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
+        He passes from life to his rest in the grave.
+
+        The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,
+        Be scattered around and together be laid;
+        And the young and the old, and the low and the high
+        Shall molder to dust and together shall lie.
+
+        The infant a mother attended and loved,
+        The mother that infant's affection who proved,
+        The husband that mother and infant who blest,
+        Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest.
+
+        The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye,
+        Shone beauty and pleasure, her triumphs are by;
+        And the mem'ry of those who loved her and praised
+        Are alike from the minds of the living erased.
+
+        The hand of the king that the scepter hath borne,
+        The brow of the priest that the miter hath worn,
+        The eye of the sage and the heart of the brave
+        Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.
+
+        The peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap,
+        The herdsman who climbed with his goats up the steep,
+        The beggar who wandered in search of his bread,
+        Have faded away like the grass that we tread.
+
+        The saint who enjoyed the communion of heaven,
+        The sinner who dared to remain unforgiven,
+        The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just,
+        Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.
+
+        So the multitude goes like the flower or the weed
+        That withers away to let others succeed,
+        So the multitude comes, even those we behold,
+        To repeat every tale that has often been told.
+
+        For we are the same that our fathers have been;
+        We see the same sights our fathers have seen;
+        We drink the same streams, and view the same sun,
+        And run the same course our fathers have run.
+
+        The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think,
+        From the death we are shrinking our fathers would shrink;
+        To the life we are clinging they also would cling,
+        But it speeds from us all like a bird on the wing.
+
+        They loved, but the story we cannot unfold;
+        They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold;
+        They grieved, but no wail from their slumber will come;
+        They joyed, but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.
+
+        They died, ay, they died. We things that are now,
+        That walk on the turf that lies over their brow,
+        And make in their dwellings a transient abode,
+        Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.
+
+        Yea, hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,
+        Are mingled together in sunshine and rain:
+        And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge,
+        Still follow each other like surge upon surge.
+
+        'Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath,
+        From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,
+        From the gilded salon to the bier and the shroud,--
+        Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
+
+
+"The Last Leaf," by Oliver Wendell Holmes, was also a favorite poem of
+Lincoln, says Henry C. Whitney, his friend and biographer (in his
+"Life of Lincoln," Vol. I, page 238):
+
+"Over and over again I have heard him repeat:
+
+
+                  The mossy marbles rest
+                  On the lips that he has prest
+                      In their bloom;
+                  And the names he loved to hear
+                  Have been carved for many a year
+                      On the tomb.
+
+
+and tears would come unbidden to his eyes, probably at thought of the
+grave (his mother's) at Gentryville, or that in the bend of the
+Sangamo" (of Ann Rutledge, his first love, who died shortly before the
+time set for their wedding, and whose memory Lincoln ever kept
+sacred).
+
+While Lincoln, so far as can be ascertained, wrote nothing in verse
+after 1846, he developed in his speeches a literary style which is
+poetical in the highest sense of that term. More than all American
+statesmen his utterances and writings possess that classic quality
+whose supreme expression is found in Greek literature. This is because
+Lincoln had an essentially Hellenic mind. First of all the
+architecture of his thought was that of the Greek masters, who,
+whether as Phidias they built the Parthenon to crown with harmonious
+beauty the Acropolis, or as Homer they recorded in swelling narrative
+from its dramatic beginning the strife of the Achaeans before Troy, or
+even as Euclid, they developed from postulates the relations of space,
+had a deep insight into the order in which mother nature was striving
+to express herself, and a reverent impulse to aid her in bodying forth
+according to her methods the ideal forms of the cosmos, the world of
+beauty, no less within the soul of man than without it, which was
+intended by such help to be realized as a whole in the infinity of
+time, and in part in the vision of every true workman. In short,
+Lincoln had a profound sense of the fitness of things, that which
+Aristotle, the scientific analyst of human thought and the philosopher
+of its proper expression, called "poetic justice." He strove to make
+his reasoning processes strictly logical, and to this end carried with
+him as he rode the legal circuit not law-books, but a copy of Euclid's
+geometry, and passed his time on the way demonstrating to his drivers
+the theorems therein proposed. "Demonstrate" he said he considered to
+be the greatest word in the English language. He constructed every one
+of his later speeches on the plan of a Euclidean solution. His Cooper
+Union speech on "Slavery as the Fathers Viewed It," which contributed
+so largely to his Presidential nomination, was such a demonstration,
+settling what was thereafter never attempted to be controverted: his
+contention that the makers of the Constitution merely tolerated
+property in human flesh and blood as a primitive and passing phase of
+civilization, and never intended that it should be perpetuated by the
+charter of the Republic.
+
+So, too, the Gettysburg speech, brief as it is, is the statement of a
+thesis, the principles upon which the Fathers founded the nation, and
+of the heroic demonstration of the same by the soldiers fallen on the
+field, and the addition of a moral corollary of this, the high resolve
+of the living to prosecute the work until the vision of the Fathers
+was realized.
+
+In substance of thought and in form of its presentation the speech is
+as perfect a poem as ever was written, and even in the minor qualities
+of artistic language--rhythm and cadence, phonetic euphony, rhetorical
+symbolism, and that subtle reminiscence of a great literary and
+spiritual inheritance, the Bible, which stands to us as Homer did to
+the ancients--it excels the finest gem to be found in poetic cabinets
+from the Greek Anthology downward. Only because it was not written in
+the typography of verse, with capitalized and paragraphed initial
+words at the beginning of each thought-group of words, has it failed
+of recognition as a poem by academic minds. Had Walt Whitman composed
+the address, and printed it in the above manner, it would now appear
+in every anthology of poetry published since its date. To convince of
+this those conventional people who must have an ocular demonstration
+of form in order to compare the address with accepted examples of
+poetry, I will dare to incur the condemnation of those who rightly
+look upon such a departure from Lincoln's own manner of writing the
+speech as profanation, and present it in the shape of _vers libre_.
+For the latter class of readers this, the greatest poem by Lincoln,
+the greatest, indeed, yet produced in America, may be preferably read
+in the original form on page 100 of this collection. I trust that
+these, especially if they are teachers of literature, will pardon, for
+the sake of others less cultivated in poetic taste, what may appear a
+duplication here, unnecessary to themselves, of the address.
+
+
+                        SPEECH AT GETTYSBURG
+
+                         By ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+             Four score and seven years ago
+             Our fathers brought forth on this continent
+             A new nation,
+             Conceived in liberty,
+             And dedicated to the proposition
+             That all men are created equal.
+
+             Now we are engaged in a great civil war,
+             Testing whether that nation,
+             Or any nation so conceived and so dedicated,
+             Can long endure.
+             We are met on a great battle-field of that war.
+             We have come to dedicate a portion of that field
+             As a final resting-place
+             For those who here gave their lives
+             That that nation might live.
+             It is altogether fitting and proper
+             That we should do this.
+             But, in a larger sense,
+             We cannot dedicate--
+             We cannot consecrate--
+             We cannot hallow--
+             This ground.
+             The brave men, living and dead,
+             Who struggled here,
+             Have consecrated it far above our poor power
+             To add or detract.
+             The world will little note nor long remember
+             What we say here,
+             But it can never forget
+             What they did here.
+             It is for us, the living, rather,
+             To be dedicated here to the unfinished work
+             Which they who fought here have so nobly advanced.
+             It is rather for us to be here dedicated
+             To the great task remaining before us--
+             That from these honored dead
+             We take increased devotion to that cause
+             For which they gave the last full measure of devotion;
+             That we here highly resolve
+             That these dead shall not have died in vain;
+             That this nation, under God,
+             Shall have a new birth of freedom;
+             And that government of the people,
+             By the people, and for the people
+             Shall not perish from the earth.
+
+
+Lincoln attained this classic perfection of ordered thought, and with
+it, as an inevitable accompaniment this classic beauty of expression,
+only by great struggle. He became a poet of the first rank only by
+virtue of his moral spirit. He was continually correcting deficiencies
+in his character, which were far greater than is generally received,
+owing to the tendency of American historians of the tribe of Parson
+Weems to find by force illustrations of moral heroism in the youth of
+our great men. Thus Lincoln is represented as a noble lad, who, having
+allowed a borrowed book to be ruined by rain, went to the owner and
+offered to "pull fodder" to repay him, which the man ungenerously
+permitted him to do. The truth is, that the neighbor, to whom the book
+was a cherished possession, required him to do the work in repayment,
+and that Lincoln not only did it grudgingly, but afterwards lampooned
+the man so severely in satiric verse that he was ashamed to show himself
+at neighborhood gatherings. All the people about Gentryville feared
+Lincoln's caustic wit, and disliked him for it, although they were
+greatly impressed with his ability exhibited thereby. Lincoln recognized
+his moral obliquity, and curbed his propensity for satire, which was a
+case of that "exercise of natural faculty" which affects all gifted
+persons. And when he left that region he visited all the neighbors, and
+asked pardon of those whom he had ridiculed. The true Lincoln is a far
+better example to boys than the fictitious one, in that he had more
+unlovely traits at first than the average lad, yet he reformed, with the
+result that, when he went to new scenes, he speedily became the most
+popular young man in the neighborhood. He was one of those who
+
+
+                      "rise on stepping stones
+              Of their dead selves to higher things."
+
+
+The reformation of his character by self examination and determination
+not to make the same mistake again seems to have induced similar
+effects and methods for their attainment in the case of his
+intellectual development. Whatever the connection, both regenerations
+proceeded apace. Lincoln at first was a shallow thinker, accepting
+without examination the views of others, especially popular statesmen,
+such as Henry Clay, whose magnetic personality was drawing to himself
+the high-spirited young men of the West. Some of the political
+doctrines which Lincoln then adopted he retained to the end, these
+being on subjects such as taxation and finance whose moral bearing was
+not apparent, and therefore into which he never inquired closely, for
+Lincoln's mind could not be profoundly interested in any save a moral
+question. When he found that a revered statesman was weak upon a
+crucial moral issue, he repressed his innate tendency to loyalty and
+rejected him. Thus, after a visit to Henry Clay in Kentucky, when the
+slavery question was arising to vex the country despite the efforts
+the aged statesman had made to settle it by the compromise of 1850,
+Lincoln returned disillusioned, having found that the light he himself
+possessed on the subject was clearer than that of his old leader. The
+eulogy which he delivered on the death of Clay, which occurred shortly
+afterward (in 1852), is the most perfunctory of all his addresses.
+
+Indeed, not till the time of the Repeal of the Missouri Compromise of
+1854, which brought Lincoln back into politics by its overthrow of
+what he regarded as the constitutional exclusion of slavery from the
+Territories, did he rise to his highest powers as a thinker and
+speaker. Lincoln had been defeated for reelection to Congress because
+of his opposition, though not highly moral in character, to the
+popular Mexican war, and, regarding himself as a political failure, he
+had devoted himself to law. His most notable speech in the House of
+Representatives, a well composed satirical arraignment of President
+Polk for throwing the country into war, had failed utterly of its
+intended effect, probably because of its trimming partisan tone. In
+1854 he was relieved of the trammels of party, the Whigs having gone
+to smash. Anti-slavery had become a great moral movement, and he was
+drawn into its current. Almost at once he became its Western leader.
+His speech against the Repeal of the Missouri Compromise which had
+been effected by his inveterate antagonist, Senator Stephen A.
+Douglas, was his first classic achievement in argumentative oratory.
+While in the greater aspect of artistic composition, the form of the
+address as a whole, his master was Euclid, in minor points the
+influence of Shakespeare, of whom Lincoln had become a great reader,
+was apparent, as indicated by a quotation from the dramatist, and an
+application to Senator Douglas of the scene of Lady Macbeth trying to
+wash out the indelible stain upon her hand. Also the Bible was the
+source of strong and telling phrases and figures of speech. Thus he
+denominated slavery as "the great Behemoth of danger," and asked,
+"shall the strong grip of the nation be loosened upon him, to intrust
+him to the hands of his feeble keepers?"
+
+And, in the following passage, characteristic of the new Lincoln, I
+think that either Shakespeare and the Bible had combined to inspire
+him with graphic description of character and moral indignation, or
+they enforced these native powers.
+
+"Again, you have among you a sneaking individual of the class of
+native tyrants known as the 'Slave-Dealer'. He watches your
+necessities, and crawls up to buy your slave at a speculative price.
+If you cannot help it, you sell to him; but if you can help it, you
+drive him from your door. You despise him utterly. You do not
+recognize him as a friend, or even as an honest man. Your children
+must not play with his; they may rollick freely with the little
+negroes, but not with the slave-dealer's children. If you are obliged
+to deal with him you try to get through the job without so much as
+touching him. It is common with you to join hands with the men you
+meet, but with the slave-dealer you avoid the ceremony--instinctively
+shrinking from the snaky contact."
+
+Of Lincoln's critical appreciation of Shakespeare Frank B. Carpenter,
+the artist of the "First Reading of the Emancipation Proclamation"
+(see illustration on page 206), writes in his "Six Months at the White
+House with Abraham Lincoln" as follows:
+
+"Presently the conversation turned upon Shakspeare, of whom it is well
+known Mr. Lincoln was very fond. He once remarked, 'It matters not to
+me whether Shakspeare be well or ill acted; with him the thought
+suffices.' Edwin Booth was playing an engagement at this time at
+Grover's Theatre. He had been announced for the coming evening in his
+famous part of _Hamlet_. The President had never witnessed his
+representation of this character, and he proposed being present. The
+mention of this play, which I afterward learned had at all times a
+peculiar charm for Mr. Lincoln's mind, waked up a train of thought I
+was not prepared for. Said he,--and his words have often returned to
+me with a sad interest since his own assassination,--'There is one
+passage of the play of "Hamlet" which is very apt to be slurred over
+by the actor, or omitted altogether, which seems to me the choicest
+part of the play. It is the soliloquy of the King, after the murder.
+It always struck me as one of the finest touches of nature in the
+world.'
+
+"Then, throwing himself into the very spirit of the scene, he took
+up the words:--
+
+
+         "'O my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
+           It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
+           A brother's murder!--Pray can I not,
+           Though inclination be as sharp as will;
+           My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
+           And, like a man to double business bound,
+           I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
+           And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
+           Were thicker than itself with brother's blood?
+           Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
+           To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy
+           But to confront the visage of offence;
+           And what's in prayer but this twofold force--
+           To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
+           Or pardoned, being down? Then I'll look up;
+           My fault is past. But O what form of prayer
+           Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder?--
+           That cannot be; since I am still possessed
+           Of those effects for which I did the murder,--
+           My crown, my own ambition, and my queen.
+             May one be pardoned and retain the offence?
+           In the corrupted currents of this world,
+           Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,
+           And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
+           Buys out the law; but 'tis not so _above_.
+           There is no shuffling; there the action lies
+           In its true nature; and we ourselves compelled,
+           Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
+           To give in evidence. What then? What rests?
+           Try what repentance can; what can it not?
+           Yet what can it when one cannot repent?
+             O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
+           O bruised soul that, struggling to be free,
+           Art more engaged! Help, angels, make assay!
+           Bow, stubborn knees! And heart with strings of steel,
+           Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe;
+           All may be well!'
+
+
+"He repeated this entire passage from memory, with a feeling and
+appreciation unsurpassed by anything I ever witnessed upon the stage.
+Remaining in thought for a few moments, he continued:--
+
+"'The opening of the play of "King Richard the Third" seems to me often
+entirely misapprehended. It is quite common for an actor to come upon
+the stage, and, in a sophomoric style, to begin with a flourish:--
+
+
+           "'Now is the winter of our discontent
+             Made glorious summer by this sun of York,
+             And all the clouds that lowered upon our house,
+             In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.'
+
+
+"'Now,' said he, 'this is all wrong. Richard, you remember, had been,
+and was then plotting the destruction of his brothers, to make room
+for himself. Outwardly, the most loyal to the newly crowned king,
+secretly he could scarcely contain his impatience at the obstacles
+still in the way of his own elevation. He appears upon the stage, just
+after the crowning of Edward, burning with repressed hate and
+jealousy. The prologue is the utterance of the most intense bitterness
+and satire.' Then, unconsciously assuming the character, Mr. Lincoln
+repeated, also from memory, Richard's soliloquy, rendering it with a
+degree of force and power that made it seem like a new creation to me.
+Though familiar with the passage from boyhood, I can truly say that
+never till that moment had I fully appreciated its spirit. I could not
+refrain from laying down my palette and brushes, and applauding
+heartily upon his conclusion, saying, at the same time, half in
+earnest, that I was not sure but that he had made a mistake in the
+choice of a profession, considerably, as may be imagined, to his
+amusement. Mr. Sinclair has since repeatedly said to me that he never
+heard these choice passages of Shakspeare rendered with more effect by
+the most famous of modern actors."
+
+Lincoln's sense of the classic phrase seems to have been native with
+him, for we find it in his earliest utterances. Such a phrase appears
+in homely proverbial form in his first speech: "My politics are short
+and sweet, like the old woman's dance." Impaired in rhythm of thought
+and sound by an awkward, though logical, parenthetical expression,
+another phrase stands out in a "spread-eagle" passage from his first
+formal address, that on "The Perpetuation of Our Political
+Institutions."
+
+"All the armies of Europe, Asia, and Africa combined, with all the
+treasure of earth (our own excepted) in its military chest, with a
+Bonaparte for a commander, could not by force _take a drink from the
+Ohio or make a track on the Blue Ridge_ in a trial of a thousand
+years."
+
+And in a eulogy on Washington, Lincoln early achieved a line which in
+phonetic quality, rhetorical figure and rhythmic cadence is pure
+poetry, though not of an exceptional order.
+
+"In solemn awe we pronounce the name, and in its naked deathless
+splendor leave it shining on."
+
+In an article entitled "Lincoln's Literary Experiments," by John G.
+Nicolay, one of Lincoln's two private secretaries, which was published
+in the Century Magazine for April, 1894, are reproduced Lincoln's
+notes of one lyceum lecture on "Niagara Falls," and the text of
+another on "Discoveries, Inventions and Improvements." These, however,
+detract, if anything, from Lincoln's reputation as a writer, for in
+choice of subjects and in style of treatment there is seen an almost
+discreditable stooping of a man of genius, even in his function of
+teacher, to the low popular taste of the West at the time. In the
+first lecture Lincoln presented the statistics of the water power of
+Niagara Falls for each minute, and led his hearers from this base to
+the "contemplation of the vast power the sun is constantly exerting in
+the quiet noiseless operation of lifting water up to be rained down
+again." Yet at this point he stopped short of his duty as an educator,
+for he made no suggestion as to the utilization of this power. He was
+satisfied with giving the people what they had come for--the pleasant
+excitation of a mental faculty, that of the imagination in its primary
+form of wonder at the grandeur of the material universe. In short, he
+was acting as a mere entertainer--as so many of our public men do now
+at "Chautauquas."
+
+In the second lecture he performed this function in a still more
+discreditable manner, by catering to the unworthy demand of his
+hearers for obvious and familiar humorous conceptions to grasp which
+would cause them no mental exertion. Thus, in speaking of the
+inventions of the locomotive and telegraph, already old enough for the
+first inevitable similitudes and jocose remarks about them to be
+current, he said:
+
+"The iron horse is panting and impatient to carry him (man) everywhere
+in no time; and the lightning stands ready harnessed to take and bring
+his tidings in a trifle less than no time."
+
+This reveals Lincoln's taste for the characteristic American humor of
+exaggeration, which was later to afford him relief from the stress and
+strain of his duties as President in the works of "Petroleum V. Nasby"
+and "Artemus Ward," writers, however, with a quaint originality which
+lifted them and their admirers above the plane of humorous composition
+and appreciation of the preceding decade. Indeed, Lincoln developed
+his own power of witty expression to a degree excelling that of the
+writers he admired, and in quality of product, if not in quantity (for
+the greater part of the "funny stories" attributed to him, thank
+heaven, are apocryphal) he stands in the front rank of the American
+humorists of his generation.
+
+And as the poet and the wit are near akin through this common appeal
+to the imagination, Lincoln, had he overcome the obsession of
+melancholy in his nature which was the mood in which he resorted to
+poetry, and which early limited his taste for it to verse of a sad and
+reflective kind, might have become a literary craftsman of the order
+of Holmes, whose poetry in the main was bright and joyous, and, even
+when he occasionally touched upon such subjects as death, was, as we
+have seen, informed with inspiring Hellenic beauty rather than
+depressing Hebraic moralization. It was in his sad moments, says Henry
+C. Whitney, that the mind of Lincoln "gravitated toward the weird,
+sombre and mystical. In his normal and tranquil state of mind, 'The
+Last Leaf,' by Oliver Wendell Holmes, was his favorite" (poem). It was
+Lincoln's happy lot to rise in the realm of oratory by the power of
+his poetic spirit higher than any American, save probably Emerson, has
+done in other fields of literature. On the theme of slavery, where his
+unerring moral sense had free sway, he became our supreme orator,
+transcending even Webster in grandeur of thought and beauty of its
+expression. His periods are not as sonorous as the Olympian New
+England orator's, but their accents will reach as far and resound even
+longer by the carrying and sustaining power of the ideas which they
+express. Indeed, it is on the wings supplied by Lincoln that Webster's
+most significant conception, that of the nature of the Constitution,
+is even now borne along, because of the uplifting ideality which
+Lincoln gave it by more broadly applying it to the nation itself as an
+examplar and preserver to the world of ideal government.
+
+Webster said: "It is, sir, the people's Constitution, the people's
+Government; made for the people; made by the people; and answerable to
+the people."
+
+This he made the thesis for an argument which was to be followed by a
+magnificent peroration ending with a sentiment, calculated for use as
+a toast at political banquets, and as a patriotic slogan: "Liberty and
+Union, now and forever, one and inseparable!"
+
+Lincoln with purer taste, the expression of which, be it said to
+Webster's credit, had been made possible by the acceptance of the
+earlier statesman's contention, assumed the thesis as placed beyond
+all controversy, and, making it the exhortation of his speech, gave
+to it the character of a sacred adjuration: "That we here highly
+resolve ... that government of the people, by the people, and for
+the people, shall not perish from the earth."
+
+Another example of Lincoln's ability to improve the composition of
+another writer is the closing paragraph of his first inaugural
+address. The President-elect had submitted the manuscript of this most
+important speech, which would be universally scrutinized to find what
+policy he would adopt toward the seceded States, to Seward, his chosen
+Secretary of State, for criticism and suggestion. Mr. Seward approved
+the argument, but advised the addition of a closing paragraph "to meet
+and remove prejudice and passion in the South; and despondency in the
+East." He submitted two paragraphs of his own as alternative models.
+The second was in that poetic vein which occasionally cropped out in
+Seward's speeches, and over which Lincoln on better acquaintance was
+wont good-naturedly to rally him. It is evidence of Lincoln's
+predilection for poetic language, at least at the close of a speech,
+that he adopted the latter paragraph. It ran:
+
+"I close. We are not, we must not be, aliens or enemies, but
+fellow-countrymen and brethren. Although passion has strained our
+bonds of affection too hardly, they must not, I am sure they will not,
+be broken. The mystic chords which, proceeding from so many
+battlefields and so many patriot graves, pass through all the hearts
+and all hearths in this broad continent of ours, will yet again
+harmonize in their ancient music when breathed upon by the guardian
+angel of the nation."
+
+Lincoln, by deft touches which reveal a literary taste beyond that of
+any statesman of his time, indeed beyond that which he himself had yet
+exhibited, transformed this passage into his peroration. His
+emendations were largely in the way of excision of unnecessary
+phrases, resolution of sentences broken in construction into several
+shorter, more direct ones, and change of general and vague terms in
+rhetorical figure to concrete and picturesque words. He wrote:
+
+"I am loth to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be
+enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds
+of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every
+battle-field and patriot grave to every living heart and hearth-stone
+all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union when
+again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our
+nature."
+
+More than the persuasive argument and gentle yet determined spirit of
+the address, it was the chaste beauty and tender feeling of these
+closing words which convinced the people that Lincoln measured up to
+the high mental and moral stature demanded of one who was to be their
+leader through the most critical period that had arisen in the life of
+the nation.
+
+The second inaugural address, coming so shortly before the President's
+death, formed unintentionally his farewell address. It has the spirit
+and tone of prophecy. The Bible, in thought and expression, was its
+inspiration. The first two of its three paragraphs ring like a chapter
+from Isaiah, chief of the poet seers of old. The concluding paragraph
+is an apostolic benediction such as Paul or John might have delivered.
+
+"With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the
+right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the
+work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who
+shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphan--to do
+all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among
+ourselves, and with all nations."
+
+
+
+
+                 *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                         THE POETS' LINCOLN
+
+
+
+
+                 *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                    [Illustration: THE LOG CABIN
+
+        Birthplace of Lincoln, near Hodgensville, Kentucky]
+
+
+Abraham Lincoln was born on the 12th day of February, 1809, on the Big
+South Fork of Nolin Creek, in what was then known as Hardin, but is
+now known as La Rue County, Kentucky, about three miles from
+Hodgensville.
+
+The above illustration represents the cabin in which he was born, as
+described by his former neighbors.
+
+Out of that old hut came the mighty man of destiny, the matchless man
+of the Nineteenth Century. The world has no parallel for that
+transition from the cabin to the White House.
+
+
+Julia Ward [Howe] was born in New York City, May 27, 1819. At an early
+age she wrote plays and poems. In 1843 Miss Ward married Dr. Samuel
+Gridley Howe. In 1861, while on a visit to the camp near Washington,
+with Governor John A. Andrew and other friends, Mrs. Howe wrote to the
+air of "John Brown's Body" the "Battle Hymn of the Republic" which has
+become so popular. She also published several books of poems. She
+espoused the Woman-Suffrage movement in 1869, and devoted much of her
+time to the cause. She died in 1910.
+
+This poem was written by Mrs. Howe in her ninetieth year and read by
+her in Symphony Hall, Boston, on the centenary of the martyred
+President's birthday, February 12, 1909.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+              Through the dim pageant of the years
+              A wondrous tracery appears:
+              A cabin of the western wild
+              Shelters in sleep a new born child.
+
+              Nor nurse nor parent dear can know
+              The way those infant feet must go,
+              And yet a nation's help and hope
+              Are sealed within that horoscope.
+
+              Beyond is toil for daily bread,
+              And thought to noble issues led.
+              And courage, arming for the morn
+              For whose behest this man was born.
+
+              A man of homely, rustic ways,
+              Yet he achieves the forum's praise
+              And soon earth's highest meed has won,
+              The seat and sway of Washington.
+
+              No throne of honors and delights,
+              Distrustful days and sleepless nights,
+              To struggle, suffer and aspire,
+              Like Israel, led by cloud and fire.
+
+              A treacherous shot, a sob of rest,
+              A martyr's palm upon his breast,
+              A welcome from the glorious seat
+              Where blameless souls of heroes meet.
+
+              And thrilling, through unmeasured days,
+              A song of gratitude and praise,
+              A cry that all the earth shall heed,
+              To God, who gave him for our need.
+
+
+
+
+                           THE GREAT OAK
+
+             Some men are born, while others seem to grow
+             From out the soil, like towering trees that spread
+             Their strong, broad limbs in shelter overhead
+             When tempest storms, protecting all below.
+
+             Lincoln, Great Oak of a Nation's life,
+             Rose from the soil, with all its virgin power
+             Emplanted in him for the fateful hour,
+             When he might save a Nation in its strife.
+
+                                                --_Bennett Chapple._
+
+
+
+
+              [Illustration: LINCOLN BY THE CABIN FIRE
+
+    "Lying down was Lincoln's favorite attitude while reading or
+        studying. This remained a habit with him throughout
+        life."--_Henry C. Whitney in his "Life Of Lincoln."_]
+
+
+
+
+Noah Davis, born in Haverhill, New Hampshire, September 10, 1818. He
+was educated at Albion, New York, and in the Seminary at Lima, studied
+law, and was admitted to the bar in 1841. Appointed in March, 1857, a
+justice of the New York Supreme Court. He served in Congress from
+March 4, 1869, till July 20, 1870, when he resigned, having been
+appointed by President Grant, U. S. Attorney for the Southern District
+of New York. He resigned that office on Dec. 31, 1872, being elected
+justice of the New York State Supreme Court. In 1874, he became
+presiding justice. In January, 1887, he was retired from the bench and
+resumed practice. He died in New York in 1902.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+          Almost a hundred years ago, in a lonely hut,
+          Of the dark and bloody ground of wild Kentucky,
+          A child was born to poverty and toil,
+          Save in the sweet prophecy of mother's love
+          None dreamed of future fame for him!
+
+          'Mid deep privation and in rugged toil,
+          He grew unschooled to vigorous youth,
+          His teaching was an ancient spelling book,
+          The Holy Writ, "The Pilgrim's Progress,"
+          Old "AEsop's Fables" and the "Life of Washington";
+          And out of these, stretched by the hearthstone flame
+          For lack of other light, he garnered lore
+          That filled his soul with faith in God.
+
+          The prophet's fire, the psalmist's music deep,
+          The pilgrims' zeal throughout his steadfast march,
+          The love of fellow man as taught by Christ,
+          And all the patriot faith and truth
+          Marked the Father of our Land!
+          And there, in all his after life, in thought
+          And speech and act, resonant concords were in his
+              great soul.
+
+          And, God's elect, he calmly rose to awful power,
+          Restored his mighty land to smiling peace,
+          Then, with the martyr blood of his own life,
+          Baptized the millions of the free.
+
+          Henceforth, the ages hold his name high writ
+          And deep on their eternal rolls.
+
+
+
+
+Rev. George W. Crofts was born at Leroy, Illinois, April 9, 1842. He was
+educated at the Illinois State University at Springfield, graduating in
+the class of 1864. He was ordained to the ministry in 1865. He preached
+at Sandwich, Illinois; Council Bluffs, Iowa; Beatrice, Nebraska, and
+West Point. He died at West Point, May 16, 1909.
+
+
+                        THE BIRTH OF LINCOLN
+
+          No choir celestial sang at Lincoln's birth,
+            No transient star illumined the midnight sky
+            In honor of some ancient prophecy,
+          No augury was given from heaven or earth.
+
+          He blossomed like a flower of wondrous worth,
+            A rare, sweet flower of heaven that ne'er should die,
+            Altho' the vase in which it grew should lie
+          Most rudely rent amid the darkling dearth.
+
+          There, in that humble cabin, separate
+          From everything the world regarded great,
+            Where wealth had never pressed its greedy feet,
+            Where honor, pomp or fame found no retreat;
+          E'en there was born beneath the eye of God
+          The noblest man His footstool ever trod.
+
+
+
+
+               [Illustration: Mendelssohn Darwin Lincoln]
+
+
+                            MENDELSSOHN
+                               DARWIN
+                               LINCOLN
+
+                        _February 12, 1809_
+
+
+Clarence E. Carr, born in Enfield, New Hampshire, January 31, 1853.
+Received his early education from the common schools and academies of
+the State, later from Dartmouth College, from which he graduated in
+1875.
+
+Practiced law, was also a manufacturer and farmer. Was president of
+the New Hampshire Unitarian Conference, director and vice-president of
+the American Unitarian Association, bank trustee, president of the
+United Life and Accident Insurance Company of Concord, New Hampshire,
+and occasionally a wanderer in the Elysian Fields of the Muses.
+
+_The Three Birthday Anniversaries_ is the subject of a highly
+appreciative article on the subject of Mendelssohn, Darwin and Lincoln,
+by President Samuel A. Eliot of the American Unitarian Association, in
+the _Christian Register_ of February 4, 1909. The central thought
+therein is thus expressed very beautifully by Mr. Carr.
+
+
+        Three lives this day unto the world were given
+        Into whose souls God breathed the air of heaven,--
+        The first He taught the music of the spheres,
+        The next, of worlds, the story of the years;
+        And, loving, wise, and just beyond our dream,
+        The third a pilot made upon the New World's stream.
+
+        Their work is done, but ere they crossed "the portal,"
+        One, Song; One, Truth; One, Freedom; Made Immortal!
+
+
+
+
+James Phinney Baxter, born at Gorham Maine, March 23, 1831. Academic
+education; President of Savings Bank; Mayor of Portland, six terms,
+1893-97--1904-5. Organized Associated Charities and was its first
+President; built and donated to the City of Portland its public
+library in 1888, and to Gorham in 1907; also conveyed to Gorham his
+family mansion for use as a Museum. President Portland Public Library,
+Baxter Library (Gorham), Portland Benevolent Society, Overseer of
+Bowdoin College, President Maine Historical Society since 1890,
+Northeast Historical Society since 1899. Author: _The Trelawney
+Papers_, 1884; _The British Invasion From the North_, 1887; _Sir
+Ferdinando Gorges and His Province of Maine_, 1890; _The Pioneers of
+New France in New England_, 1894; edited ten volumes of _Documentary
+History of Maine_, etc.
+
+
+                      THE NATAL DAY OF LINCOLN
+
+         Son of the Western World! whose heritage
+         Was the vast prairie and the boundless sky;
+         Whose callow thoughts with wings untrammeled sought
+         Free scope for growth denied to Ease and Power,
+         Naught couldst thou know of place or precedent,
+         For Freedom's ichor with thy mother's milk
+         Coursing thy veins, would render thee immune
+         To Fashion's dictate, or prescriptive creed,
+         Leaving thy soul unhindered to expand
+         Like Samuel's in Jehovah's tutelage.
+                 Hail to thy Natal day!
+
+         Like all great souls with vision unobscured
+         Thou wert by Pride unswayed, and so didst tread
+         The gray and sombre way by Duty marked;
+         Seeking the springs of Wisdom, unallured
+         By shallower sources which the witless tempt.
+         Afar o'er arid plains didst thou behold
+         An empty sky, and mountains desolate
+         Barring thy way to fairer scenes beyond;
+         But faith was thine, and patience measureless,
+         Making thee equal to thy destiny.
+                 Hail to thy Natal day!
+
+         It summons to our vision all thy life,
+         Of strenuous toil; the cabin low and rude;
+         The meagre fare; the blazing logs whose glow
+         Illumed the pages of inspired bards,
+         Shakespeare and Bunyan; prophets, priests and seers;
+         The darkling forest where thy ringing axe
+         Chimed with the music of the waterfall;
+         The eager flood bearing thy rugged raft
+         Swift footed through an ever changing world
+         Unknown to thee save in remembered dreams.
+                 Hail to thy Natal day!
+
+         We see thee in the mart where Selfishness
+         For Fame ephemeral strives, and sordid gain;
+         Thy ill-requited toil till thou hadst earned
+         The right to raise thy potent voice within
+         A nation's forum, facing all the world;
+         And then, achievement such as few have known,
+         A mighty people placing in thy hand
+         A sceptre swaying half a continent,
+         Making thee peer of kings and potentates;
+         Aye, greater than them all, whate'er their power.
+                 Hail to thy Natal day!
+
+         But, lo! the martial camp; the bivouac;
+         The rude entrenchment;--the grim fortalice;
+         The tented field;--the flaming battle line,
+         And thy great soul amidst it all unmoved
+         By petty aims, leading with flawless faith
+         Thy people to a promised land of peace;
+         And, then, when thou hadst reached the goal of hope,
+         And the world stood amazed, the heavy crown
+         Of martyrdom was pressed upon thy brow
+         And thy immortal course was consummate.
+                 Hail to thy Natal day!
+
+         In all great souls God sows with generous hand
+         The seed of martyrdom, for 'twas decreed
+         In Eden, that alone by sacrifice
+         Should sons of men the crown immortal win;
+         And thou, who didst the shining heights attain
+         Of unsurpassed achievement, didst but pay
+         The impartial toll of souls like thine required.
+         And we, who on the narrow marge of Time
+         Standing wondering, shed no tears, but raise to thee
+         The paeans to a martyred hero due,
+                 Hail to thy Natal day.
+
+
+
+
+         [Illustration: MONUMENT TO THE MOTHER OF LINCOLN]
+
+
+Nancy Hanks Lincoln died October 5, 1818, aged thirty-five years. The
+design of this monument is by Thompson Stickle, and it was constructed
+by J. S. Culver of Springfield, Illinois, and dedicated October 2,
+1902.
+
+In the construction of the monument in Spencer County, Indiana, Mr.
+Culver used as much of the granite as possible from the National
+Lincoln Monument before it was reconstructed.
+
+The face of this block is handsomely hand-carved. As the Scroll of
+Time unrolls, it reveals the name of "Nancy Hanks Lincoln." The ivy
+represents affection and the branch of oak nobility.
+
+The public celebration of the centenary of Lincoln's birth was held in
+the town of North Adams, Massachusetts, February 12, 1909.
+
+Ex-Senator Thomas F. Cassidy, in his address, said: "One hundred years
+ago today, in Hardin County, Kentucky, there was ushered into being
+the child, Abraham Lincoln.
+
+"As God selected Mary, the humble girl of Judea, to be the mother of
+the Saviour of mankind and she gave birth to Him in the stable at
+Bethlehem, so it was ordained that in the lowly log cabin of the
+Kentucky wilderness, Nancy Hanks should receive into the protection of
+her sheltering arms the child who was destined to be the Saviour of
+the Republic."
+
+
+Harriet Monroe, born at Chicago, Illinois, December, 23, 1860.
+Graduated Visitation Academy, Georgetown, District Columbia, 1879. In
+December, 1889, was appointed to write text for cantata for opening of
+Chicago Auditorium in March, 1891. Was requested by Committee on
+Ceremonies of Chicago Exposition to write a poem for the dedication;
+her _Columbia Ode_ was read and sung at the dedicatory ceremonies on
+the 400th anniversary of the discovery of America, October 21, 1892.
+Author of _Valerie_, and other poems, 1892; _The Columbia Ode_, 1893;
+_John Wellborn, Poet, A Memoir_, 1896; _The Passing Show--Modern Plays
+in Verse_, 1903, etc.
+
+
+                         NANCY HANKS
+
+                       Prairie Child,
+                         Brief as dew,
+                       What winds of wonder
+                         Nourished you?
+
+                       Rolling plain
+                         Of billowy green,
+                       Fair horizons,
+                         Blue, serene.
+
+                       Lofty skies
+                         The slow clouds climb,
+                       Where burning stars
+                         Beat out the time.
+
+                       These, and the dreams
+                         Of fathers bold,
+                       Baffled longings
+                         Hopes untold.
+
+                       Gave to you
+                         A heart of fire,
+                       Love like waters,
+                         Brave desire.
+
+                       Ah, when youth's rapture
+                         Went out in pain,
+                       And all seemed over,
+                         Was all in vain?
+
+                       O soul obscure,
+                         Whose wings life bound,
+                       And soft death folded
+                         Under the ground.
+
+                       Wilding lady,
+                         Still and true,
+                       Who gave us Lincoln
+                         And never knew:
+
+                       To you at last
+                         Our praise, our tears,
+                       Love and a song
+                         Through the nation's years.
+
+                       Mother of Lincoln,
+                         Our tears, our praise;
+                       A battle-flag
+                         And the victor's bays!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: THE RAIL SPLITTER
+
+             From the "Footprints of Abraham Lincoln"]
+
+
+
+
+                        LINCOLN THE LABORER
+
+          _From an Horatian Ode by Richard Henry Stoddard_
+
+
+               A laboring man with horny hands,
+               Who swung the axe, who tilled the lands,
+               Who shrank from nothing new,
+               But did as poor men do.
+
+               One of the people. Born to be
+               Their curious epitome,
+               To share, yet rise above,
+               Their shifting hate and love.
+
+               Common his mind, it seemed so then,
+               His thoughts the thoughts of other men,
+               Plain were his words, and poor--
+               But now they will endure.
+
+               No hasty fool of stubborn will,
+               But prudent, cautious, still--
+               Who, since his work was good,
+               Would do it as he could.
+
+               No hero, this, of Roman mold--
+               Nor like our stately sires of old.
+               Perhaps he was not great--
+               But he preserved the state.
+
+               O, honest face, which all men knew,
+               O, tender heart, but known to few--
+               O, wonder of the age,
+               Cut off by tragic rage.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: "THE BOY LINCOLN"
+
+                        By Eastman Johnson]
+
+
+
+
+James Whitcomb Riley was born in Greenfield, Indiana, about 1852. He
+was engaged in various pursuits until 1875, when he began to
+contribute verses of poetry to local papers in the Western district
+which gained wide popularity for him. His published works in dialect
+and his serious poems have also proved very popular.
+
+
+                          A PEACEFUL LIFE
+
+                             (LINCOLN)
+
+               A peaceful life;--just toil and rest--
+                 All his desire;--
+               To read the books he liked the best
+                 Beside the cabin fire.
+               God's word and man's;--to peer sometimes
+                 Above the page, in smoldering gleams,
+               And catch, like far heroic rhymes,
+                 The onmarch of his dreams.
+
+               A peaceful life;--to hear the low
+                 Of pastured herds,
+               Or woodman's axe that, blow on blow,
+                 Fell sweet as rhythmic words.
+               And yet there stirred within his breast
+                 A faithful pulse, that, like a roll
+               Of drums, made high above his rest
+                 A tumult in his soul.
+
+               A peaceful life!--They hailed him even
+                 As One was hailed
+               Whose open palms were nailed toward Heaven
+                 When prayers nor aught availed.
+               And lo, he paid the selfsame price
+                 To lull a nation's awful strife
+               And will us, through the sacrifice
+                 Of self, his peaceful life.
+
+
+
+
+William Wilberforce Newton, born in Alleghany, Pennsylvania, March,
+1836. Was graduated at Franklin and Marshall College in 1853. Studied
+law, and was admitted to the bar in 1867. He served as Captain and
+Assistant Adjutant General of U. S. Volunteers in 1861-5; was Editor
+of the _Philadelphia Press_ and President of the "Press" Publishing
+Co., from 1867 till 1878. He is the author of _Vignettes of Travel_
+and has been largely engaged in railway building in Mexico.
+
+
+                        LEADER OF HIS PEOPLE
+
+                    Saw you in his boyhood days
+                      O'er Kentucky's prairies;
+                    Bending to the settler's ways
+                    Yon poor youth whom now we praise--
+                      Romance like the fairies?
+                    Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
+                      Leader of his people.
+
+                    Saw you in the days of youth
+                      By the candle's flaring:
+                    Lincoln searching for the truth,
+                    Splitting rails to gain, forsooth,
+                      Knowledge for the daring?
+                    Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
+                      Leader of his people.
+
+                    Saw you in his manhood's prime
+                      Like a star resplendent,
+                    Him we praise with measured rhyme
+                    Waiting for the coming time
+                      With a faith transcendent?
+                    Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
+                      Leader of his people.
+
+                    Saw you in the hour of strife
+                      When fierce war was raging,
+                    Him who gave the slaves a life
+                    Full and rich with freedom rife,
+                      All his powers engaging?
+                    Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
+                      Leader of his people.
+
+                    Saw you when the war was done
+                      (Such is Lincoln's story)
+                    Him whose strength the strife had won
+                    Sinking like the setting sun
+                      Crowned with human glory?
+                    Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
+                      Leader of his people.
+
+                    Saw you in our country's roll
+                      Midst her saints and sages,
+                    Lincoln's name upon the scroll--
+                    Standing at the topmost goal
+                      On the nation's pages?
+                    Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
+                      Leader of his people.
+
+                    Hero! Yes! We know thy fame;
+                      It will live forever!
+                    Thou to us art still the same;
+                    Great the glory of thy name,
+                      Great thy strong endeavor!
+                    Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
+                      Leader of his people.
+
+
+
+
+                 [Illustration: LINCOLN THE LAWYER
+
+                 From an Ambrotype, taken in 1856]
+
+
+"The charm which invested the life on the Eighth Circuit in the mind
+and fancy of Mr. Lincoln yet lingered there, even in the most
+responsible and glorious days of his administration; over and over
+again has the great President stolen an hour ... from his life of
+anxious care to live over again those bygone exhilarating and halcyon
+days ... with Sweet or me."--Henry C. Whitney in his _Life of Lincoln_.
+
+
+
+
+Wilbur Hazelton Smith was born in the town of Mansfield, New York,
+March 28, 1860. His early education was obtained from the district
+school and he began teaching at the age of sixteen. After completing
+an academic course he went to Cornell University from which he was
+graduated with the degree of A.B. in 1885.
+
+He at once became a teacher and after a few years started the first
+Current Topic paper in the state, _The Educator_. Later he edited a
+teachers' paper, _The World's Review_. Perhaps he is best known as
+publisher of the _Regents' Review Books_ used in nearly every school
+in the United States. His death occurred October 19, 1913.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+           Unlearned in the cant and quip of schools,
+             Uncouth, if only city ways refine;
+             Ungodly, if 'tis creeds that make divine;
+           In station poor, as judged by human rules,
+             And yet a giant towering o'er them all;
+             Clean, strong in mind, just, merciful, sublime;
+             The noblest product of the age and time,
+             Invoked of God in answer to men's call.
+
+           O simple world, and will you ever learn,
+             Schools can but guide, they cannot mind create?
+             'Neath roughest rock the choicest treasures wait;
+           In meanest forms we priceless gems discern;
+             Nor time, nor age, condition, rank nor birth,
+             Can hide the truly noble of the earth.
+
+
+
+
+               [Illustration: LINCOLN'S OFFICE CHAIR]
+
+
+This chair was used by Mr. Lincoln in his law office at Springfield,
+Illinois, where, before leaving for the City of Washington after his
+election as President, he wrote his Inaugural Address and formed his
+Cabinet, frequently conferring with his twenty-year law partner,
+William H. Herndon, on such matters, and adopting changes as suggested
+if he considered them advisable. It was presented to O. H. Oldroyd
+while living in the Lincoln Homestead, Springfield, by Mr. Herndon,
+March 18, 1886.
+
+
+James Riley was born in the hamlet of Tang, one mile from the town of
+Ballymahon, County Longford, Ireland, and two miles from Lissoy,
+County Westmeath, the home of Oliver Goldsmith--on the road between
+the two--August 15, 1848. Published _Poems_, 1888; _Songs of Two
+Peoples_, 1898, and _Christy of Rathglin_, a novel, in 1907. His poem
+_The American Flag_, has been rated often as the best poem written to
+our banner. Four lines on the loss of the Titanic brought from Captain
+Rostron words in which he said: "With such praise one feels on a
+higher plane, and must keep so, to be worthy of continuance."
+
+
+                    LINCOLN IN HIS OFFICE CHAIR
+
+                 High-browed, rugged, and swarthy;
+                   A picture of pain and care;
+                 A lawyer sat with his greatest brief,
+                   High in his office chair.
+
+                 His Country was to him client!
+                   Futurity his ward!
+                 And he must plead 'fore Fate's high court,
+                   With prayer, and pen, and sword.
+
+                 Elected, by his people!
+                   His heart and theirs, one beat!
+                 He sees the storm-clouds gather;
+                   The waves dash at his feet!
+
+                 Gloom upon land and water!
+                   The Flag no more in the sun!
+                 Lights from the South-line flickering,
+                   And--dying--one--by one!
+
+                 November's winds wild shrieking!
+                   Night--closed, on a Union rent!
+                 And still the lawyer sat dreaming
+                   Of its once bright firmament.
+
+                 Then, '61! Dark! Silent!
+                   Only the calling word
+                 Of Anderson at Sumter
+                   The lawyer, writing, heard.
+
+                 Writing the Message that ever
+                   Shall live in the hearts of men;
+                 With cannon to cannon fronting,
+                   The lawyer held the pen.
+
+                 Only thinking of Country
+                   And the work that must be done;
+                 Nature made in roughest mold
+                   Her favored, fated son.
+
+                 He wrote while the world was waiting
+                   Great Freedom's final test.
+                 Should, or should not Democracy
+                   Be planted in the West?
+
+                 Should Liberty at last survive
+                   And man look straight on man?
+                 Law, in its round, its strength and might
+                   Be timed unto sense and plan?
+
+                 He, in his chair there sitting,
+                   Had all these things for thought.
+                 Now, the Vote unrecognized,
+                   Must battles wild be fought?
+
+                 Alone the Chair is standing,
+                   To remind the Land of the time
+                 When the Slaver's heart, all passion,
+                   He planned, and pursued his crime!
+
+                 As he rushed Disunion's order,
+                   On, on from State to State!
+                 And the Pen talked loud down the Message,
+                   And bided the Land to wait.
+
+
+
+
+   [Illustration: LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR UNITED STATES SENATOR
+
+      Photograph from an Ambrotype, by Gilmer, Illinois, 1858]
+
+
+
+
+Elizabeth Porter Gould, born June 8, 1848, died July 28, 1906.
+Essayist, lecturer and author; an early inspirer of woman's clubs and
+the pioneer of the _Current Events_ and _Topics_ classes in Boston and
+vicinity; an officer in several educational societies and honorary
+member of the Webster Historical Society, Castilian Club and other
+clubs where she had read many historical papers of great research and
+given many practical suggestions. Among her published works are _Gems
+From Walt Whitman_, _Anne Gilchrist and Walt Whitman_, _Ezekial
+Cheever, Schoolmaster_, _John Adams and Daniel Webster as
+Schoolmasters_, _A Pioneer Doctor_, _One's Self I Sing_ and _The
+Brownings and America_. She had great energy and force of character,
+and a capacity for friendship which was a source of great happiness to
+her and endeared her to all.
+
+
+                        THE VOICE OF LINCOLN
+
+          In life's great symphony,
+          Above the seeming discord and the pain,
+          A master-voice is ever singing, singing,
+          The plan of God to men.
+
+          In young America's song,
+          As threatening tumult pierced the tensioned air,
+          The voice of Lincoln over all was singing
+          The love of brother-man.
+
+          And still his voice is heard;
+          'Twill pierce the din of strife and mystery,
+          Till master-voices cease their singing, singing,
+          In life's great symphony.
+
+
+
+
+     [Illustration: LINCOLN AT THE TIME OF DEBATE WITH DOUGLAS
+
+         From an Ambrotype taken at Beardstown, Ill., 1858]
+
+
+His friends advised Lincoln to press his opponent on the Dred Scott
+decision (of the United States Supreme Court permitting slavery in the
+Territories), as Douglas would accept it, but argue for nullifying it
+by anti-slavery legislation in the territorial assemblies, and this
+would satisfy the people of Illinois, and elect him Senator. "All
+right," said Lincoln, "then that kills him in 1860. I am gunning for
+larger game."
+
+
+
+
+Elizabeth Stuart Phelps was born in Andover, Massachusetts, on August
+13, 1844. Educated at Andover. Her literary career began at the age of
+thirteen with contributions to the newspapers. The earlier years of
+her life were devoted to Christian labors among the poor families in
+Andover, but failing health finally prevented her from carrying on her
+labors along that line, and kept her within her study, but her
+sympathy was always enlisted in the reformatory questions of the day.
+_The Gates Ajar_ proved very popular, as did also her many juvenile
+books. She wrote this poem for the Lincoln Memorial Album in 1882. She
+died January 29, 1911.
+
+
+                      THE THOUGHTS OF LINCOLN
+
+            The angels of your thoughts are climbing still
+              The shining ladder of his fame,
+            And have not reached the top, nor ever will,
+              While this low life pronounces his high name.
+
+            But yonder, where they dream, or dare, or do,
+              The "good" or "great" beyond our reach,
+            To talk of him must make old language new
+              In heavenly, as it did in human, speech.
+
+
+
+
+                [Illustration: THE LINCOLN LIFE-MASK
+
+                        By Leonard W. Volk]
+
+
+Mr. Lincoln was engaged in trying a case in the United States Court at
+Chicago, Illinois, in April, 1860, and Leonard W. Volk, the sculptor,
+called upon him and said: "I would like to have you sit to me for your
+bust." "I will, Mr. Volk," replied Lincoln. This was the first time
+that Lincoln sat to an artist for the reproduction of his physique in
+this manner. Previous to this he had posed only for daguerreotypes or
+for photographs.
+
+
+Richard Watson Gilder was born in Bordentown, New Jersey, February 8,
+1844, and was educated at his father's school. He enlisted in Landis'
+Philadelphia Battery for the emergency call in the campaign of 1863,
+when the Confederate forces invaded Pennsylvania. Later he was editor
+of a number of magazines and upon the death of J. G. Holland he was
+made associate editor of the _Century_. At the age of twenty-six he
+had attained high literary standing. His poems are published in five
+volumes. He rendered valuable service in tenement-house reform over
+the country. He died on the 18th day of November, 1909.
+
+
+                ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+         This bronze doth keep the very form and mold
+           Of our great martyr's face. Yes, this is he:
+           That brow all wisdom, all benignity;
+         That human, humorous mouth; those cheeks that hold
+         Like some harsh landscape all the summer's gold;
+           That spirit fit for sorrow, as the sea
+           For storms to beat on; the lone agony
+           Those silent, patient lips too well foretold.
+         Yes, this is he who ruled a world of men
+           As might some prophet of the elder day--
+           Brooding above the tempest and the fray
+         With deep-eyed thought and more than mortal ken.
+           A power was his beyond the touch of art
+           Or armed strength--his pure and mighty heart.
+
+
+
+
+                [Illustration: THE HAND OF LINCOLN]
+
+
+The Saturday after the nomination of Mr. Lincoln for President of the
+United States, the Committee appointed to inform him of the said
+nomination arrived in Springfield and performed this duty in the
+evening at his home.
+
+The cast of his hand was made the next morning by Mr. Leonard W. Volk.
+While the sculptor was making the cast of his left hand, Lincoln
+called his attention to a scar on his thumb. "You have heard me called
+the 'rail-splitter' haven't you?" he said, "Well, I used to split
+rails when I was a young man, and one day, while sharpening a wedge on
+a log, the axe glanced and nearly took off my thumb."
+
+
+Edmund Clarence Stedman was born in Hartford, Connecticut, on the 8th
+of October, 1833. He entered Yale College at the age of sixteen and
+distinguished himself in Greek and English Composition. He was the
+editor of several papers in Connecticut and in 1856 removed to New
+York City--a larger field for his literary abilities. He was a
+contributor to _Vanity Fair_, _Putnam's Monthly_, _Harper's Magazine_
+and other periodicals. His poems: _The Diamond Wedding_, _How Old John
+Brown Took Harper's Ferry_, _The Ballad of Lager-Bier_, gave him some
+reputation. He was war-correspondent for the _World_ during the early
+campaigns of the Army of the Potomac from the Headquarters of General
+Irwin McDowell and General B. McClellan. He died in 1908.
+
+
+                        THE HAND OF LINCOLN
+
+                Look on this cast, and know the hand
+                  That bore a nation in its hold;
+                From this mute witness understand
+                  What Lincoln was--how large of mold.
+
+                The man who sped the woodman's team,
+                  And deepest sunk the plowman's share,
+                And pushed the laden raft astream,
+                  Of fate before him unaware.
+
+                This was the hand that knew to swing
+                  The axe--since thus would Freedom train
+                Her son--and made the forest ring,
+                  And drove the wedge and toiled amain.
+
+                Firm hand that loftier office took,
+                  A conscious leader's will obeyed,
+                And, when men sought his word and look,
+                  With steadfast might the gathering swayed.
+
+                No courtier's, toying with a sword,
+                  Nor minstrel's, laid across a lute;
+                Chiefs, uplifted to the Lord
+                  When all the kings of earth are mute!
+
+                The hand of Anak, sinewed strong,
+                  The fingers that on greatness clutch,
+                Yet lo! the marks their lines along
+                  Of one who strove and suffered much.
+
+                For here in mottled cord and vein
+                  I trace the varying chart of years,
+                I know the troubled heart, the strain,
+                  The weight of Atlas--and the tears.
+
+                Again I see the patient brow
+                  That palm erewhile was wont to press;
+                And now 'tis furrowed deep, and now
+                  Made smooth with hope and tenderness.
+
+                For something of a formless grace
+                  This molded outline plays about;
+                A pitying flame, beyond our trace,
+                  Breathes like a spirit, in and out--
+
+                The love that casts an aureole
+                  Round one who, longer to endure,
+                Called mirth to cease his ceaseless dole,
+                  Yet kept his nobler purpose sure.
+
+                Lo, as I gaze, the statured man,
+                  Built up from yon large hand, appears;
+                A type that nature wills to plan
+                  But once in all a people's years.
+
+                What better than this voiceless cast
+                  To tell of such a one as he,
+                Since through its living semblance passed
+                  The thought that bade a race be free?
+
+
+
+
+    [Illustration: HON. ABRAHAM LINCOLN, REPUBLICAN CANDIDATE FOR
+                         THE PRESIDENCY, 1860
+
+      Painted by Hicks; lithograph by L. Grozelier; published by
+     W. Schaus, New York, 1860; printed by J. H. Bufford, Boston]
+
+
+
+
+                    [Illustration: THE "WIGWAM"
+
+  Convention Hall, at Chicago, 1860, in which Lincoln was nominated]
+
+
+The Republicans of Chicago had erected a huge temporary building for
+the use of the Convention. The "Wigwam," as it was called, covered a
+space of 600 feet by 180, and the height was between 50 and 60 feet.
+The building would hold about 10,000 persons, and was divided into
+platform, ground-floor and gallery. The stage upon which the delegates
+and members of the press were seated, held about 1,800 persons; the
+ground-floor and galleries, about 8,000. A large gallery was reserved
+for ladies, which was filled every day to overflowing. The Convention
+met on June 16, 1860.
+
+
+
+
+Edmund Clarence Stedman is the author of this poem, and it was
+published in the _Press and Tribune_ of Chicago, and in _Weekly
+Illinois State Journal_, June 13, 1860. It was sung to the air of the
+"Star Spangled Banner" throughout the campaign.
+
+
+                       HONEST ABE OF THE WEST
+
+          O Hark! from the pine-crested hills of old Maine,
+            Where the splendor first falls from the wings of the
+                morning,
+          And away in the West, over river and plain,
+            Rings out the grand anthem of Liberty's warning!
+          From green-rolling prairie it swells to the sea,
+          For the people have risen, victorious and free,
+          They have chosen their leaders, and bravest and best
+          Of them all is Old Abe, Honest Abe of the West!
+
+          The spirit that fought for the patriots of old
+            Has swept through the land and aroused us forever;
+          In the pure air of heaven a standard unfold
+            Fit to marshal us on to the sacred endeavor!
+          Proudly the banner of freemen we bear;
+          Noble the hopes that encircle it there!
+          And where battle is thickest we follow the crest
+          Of gallant Old Abe, Honest Abe of the West!
+
+          There's a triumph in urging a glorious cause,
+            Though the hosts of the foe for a while may be stronger,
+          Pushing on for just rules and holier laws,
+            Till their lessening columns oppose us no longer.
+          But ours the loud paean of men who have passed
+          Through the struggles of years, and are victors at last;
+          So forward the flag! Leave to Heaven the rest,
+          And trust in Old Abe, Honest Abe of the West!
+
+
+
+
+         [Illustration: LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT
+
+  From an Ambrotype taken at Springfield, Illinois, August 13, 1860]
+
+
+
+
+William Henry Burleigh, born at Woodstock, Connecticut, February 2,
+1812. In early manhood became an advocate of reforms then unpopular,
+and an acceptable lecturer on behalf of temperance and the
+anti-slavery cause. He removed to Pittsburgh in 1837, where he
+published the _Christian Witness_, and afterwards the _Temperance
+Banner_. As a writer, speaker, editor, poet, reformer, friend and
+associate, it was the universal testimony of those who knew him best
+and esteemed him most truly, that he stood in the forefront of his
+generation. His poetry, animated by deep love of nature and a profound
+desire to uphold truth and justice, gives him a place with our first
+minor poets.
+
+
+                    PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN, 1860
+
+         Up again for the conflict! Our banner fling out,
+         And rally around it with song and with shout!
+         Stout of heart, firm of hand, should the gallant boys be,
+         Who bear to the battle the Flag of the Free!
+         Like our fathers, when Liberty called to the strife,
+         They should pledge to her cause fortune, honor, and life!
+         And follow wherever she beckons them on,
+         Till Freedom results in a victory won!
+
+         They came from the hillside, they came from the glen--
+         From the streets thronged with traffic and surging with men,
+         From loom and from ledger, from workshop and farm,
+         The fearless of heart, and the mighty of arm.
+         As the mountain-born torrents exultingly leap
+         When their ice-fetters melt, to the breast of the deep;
+         As the winds of the prairie, the waves of the sea,
+         They are coming--are coming--the Sons of the Free!
+
+         Our Leader is one who, with conquerless will,
+         Has climbed from the base to the brow of the hill;
+         Undaunted in peril, unwavering in strife,
+         He has fought a good fight in the Battle of Life,
+         And we trust as one who--come woe or come weal,
+         Is as firm as the rock and as true as the steel.
+         Right loyal and brave, with no stain on his breast,
+         Then, hurrah, boys, for honest "Old Abe of the West!"
+
+
+
+
+                    [Illustration: "HONEST ABE"
+
+                    A Campaign Cartoon of 1860]
+
+
+
+
+Madison Cawein was born at Louisville, Kentucky, on the 23rd of March,
+1865. Was educated in the city and country schools about Louisville
+and New Albany, Indiana. Graduated from the Male High School,
+Louisville, in 1886, and the following year published his first
+volume, called _Blooms of the Berry_. Since then he published some
+thirty-odd volumes of prose and poetry, both in the United States and
+England. He died in 1915.
+
+
+                  LINCOLN, 1809--FEBRUARY 12, 1909
+
+   _Read for the first time at the Lincoln centenary celebration,
+               Temple Adath Israel, Louisville, Ky._
+
+             Yea, this is he, whose name is synonym
+             Of all that's noble, though but lowly born;
+             Who took command upon a stormy morn
+             When few had hope. Although uncouth of limb,
+             Homely of face and gaunt, but never grim,
+             Beautiful he was with that which none may scorn--
+             With love of God and man and things forlorn,
+             And freedom mighty as the soul in him.
+             Large at the helm of state he leans and looms
+             With the grave, kindly look of those who die
+             Doing their duty. Stanch, unswervingly
+             Onward he steers beneath portentous glooms,
+             And overwhelming thunders of the sky,
+             Till, safe in port, he sees a people free.
+
+             Safe from the storm; the harbor-lights of Peace
+             Before his eyes; the burden of dark fears
+             Cast from him like a cloak; and in his ears
+             The heart-beat music of a great release;
+             Captain and pilot, back upon the seas,
+             Whose wrath he'd weathered, back he looks with tears,
+             Seeing no shadow of the Death that nears,
+             Stealthy and sure, with sudden agonies.
+             So let him stand, brother to every man,
+             Ready for toil or battle; he who held
+             A Nation's destinies within his hand;
+             Type of our greatness; first American,
+             By whom the hearts of all men are compelled,
+             And with whose name Freedom unites our land.
+
+             He needs no praise of us, who wrought so well,
+             Who has the Master's praise; who at his post
+             Stood to the last. Yet, now, from coast to coast,
+             Let memory of him peal like some great bell,
+             Of him as woodsman, workman, let it tell!
+             Of him as lawyer, statesman, without boast!
+             And for what qualities we love him most,
+             And recollections that no time can quell.
+             He needs no praise of us, yet let us praise,
+             Albeit his simple soul we may offend,
+             That liked not praise, being most diffident;
+             Still let us praise him, praise him in such ways
+             As his were, and in words that shall transcend
+             Marble, and outlast any monument.
+
+
+
+
+         [Illustration: LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT
+
+           Photograph by Hesler, Chicago, Illinois, 1860]
+
+
+
+
+Isaac Bassett Choate, born at South Otis Field, Maine, July 12, 1833.
+Bachelor of Arts, Bowdoin College, 1862. Author of _Wild Birds and
+Flowers_, 1895; _Wells of English_, 1892; _Obeyed the Camel Driver_,
+1899; _Apollo's Guest_, 1907.
+
+By special invitation from the faculty of the Alumni Association of
+said College he read the following poem at their annual banquet held
+on the centenary of Lincoln's birth, 1909:
+
+
+                       THE MATCHLESS LINCOLN
+
+             From out the ranks of common men he rose--
+               Himself of common elements, yet fine--
+             As in a wood of different species grows
+               Above all other trees the lordly pine,
+             Upon whose branches rest the winter snows,
+               Upon whose head warm beams of summer shine;
+             His was the heart to feel the people's woes
+               And his the hand to hold the builder's line;
+                 Strong, patient, wise and great,
+                 Born ruler of the State.
+
+             Among a mountain group one sovereign peak
+               Will tower aloft unto commanding height
+             As if more distant view abroad to seek--
+               First one to hail, last one to speed the light;
+             Those granite sides will snows of winter streak
+               E'en in the summer with their purest white;--
+             Silent, serene, that summit yet will speak
+               Of loftiest grandeur to the enraptured sight;
+                 So Lincoln's greatness shone
+                 Supreme, unmatched, alone.
+
+
+
+
+         [Illustration: LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT
+
+                Photograph, Springfield, Ill., 1860]
+
+
+
+
+Charlotte Becker was born and has always lived in Buffalo, New York.
+She was educated in private schools and in Europe, and has written
+poems for _Harper's Magazine_, _The Metropolitan_, _The American_,
+_Life_, etc., besides a number of songs which have been set to music
+by Amy Woodfords-Finden, C. B. Hawley, Whitney Coombs and others.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+         Gaunt, rough-hewn face, that bore the furrowed signs
+           Of days of conflict, nights of agony,
+         And still could soften to the gentler lines
+           Of one whose tenderness and truth went free
+         Beyond the pale of any small confines
+           To understand and help humanity.
+
+         Wise, steadfast mind, that grasped a people's need,
+           Counting nor pain nor sacrifice too great
+         To keep the noble purpose of his creed
+           Strong against all buffeting of Fate,
+         Though no least solace sprang of work or deed
+           For him, since triumph came at last--too late.
+
+         Brave, weary heart, that beat uncomforted
+           Beneath its heavy load of grief and care;
+         That tears of blood for every battle shed,
+           Yet called on mirth to help his comrades bear
+         The waiting hours of anguish, and that sped
+           With loyal haste each breath of balm to share.
+
+         Only his people's griefs were his; no part
+           Had he within their joy; nor his the toll
+         To know the love that made rebellion start,
+           Spurred hosts unnumbered to a higher goal;
+         That his great soul should cleanse a nation's heart,
+           His martyred heart awake a nation's soul.
+
+
+
+
+             [Illustration: CABIN OF LINCOLN'S PARENTS
+
+                  on Goose-Nest Prairie, Illinois]
+
+
+The last home of the parents of Lincoln. Built by his father, Thomas,
+in 1831, near Farmington, Coles Co., Ill. The father died here in 1851
+and the step-mother, Sarah Bush Lincoln, in 1869. After Lincoln was
+elected President in 1860, and before leaving for Washington to be
+inaugurated, he visited his mother in this cabin for the last time. As
+he was leaving her, she made a prediction of his tragic death. With
+arms about his neck, with tears streaming down her cheeks, she
+declared it was the last time she would ever see him alive, and it
+proved to be so.
+
+Lincoln once said, "I was told that I never would make a lawyer if I
+did not understand what 'demonstrate' means. I left my situation in
+Springfield, went to my father's house, and stayed there till I could
+give any proposition in the six books of Euclid at sight. I there
+found out what demonstrate means."
+
+
+
+
+      [Illustration: LINCOLN HOMESTEAD, SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS]
+
+
+On Monday, February 11, 1861, Mr. Lincoln and family in company with a
+party left Springfield, Illinois, for Washington, D. C. A light rain
+mixed with snow was falling at the time which made the occasion a
+somewhat gloomy one. Mr. Lincoln appeared on the rear platform of the
+car where he bade farewell to his neighbors in the following address:
+
+"My friends, no one not in my position can appreciate the sadness I
+feel at this parting. To this people I owe all that I am. Here I have
+lived more than a quarter of a century. Here my children were born,
+and here one of them lies buried.
+
+"I know not how soon I shall see you again. A duty devolves upon me
+which is greater, perhaps, than that which has devolved upon any other
+man since the days of Washington. He never would have succeeded except
+for the aid of divine Providence, upon which he at all times relied.
+
+"I feel that I cannot succeed without the same divine aid which
+sustained him; and on the same Almighty Being I place my reliance for
+support, and I hope you, my friends, will pray that I may receive the
+divine assistance, without which I cannot succeed, but with which
+success is certain. Again, I bid you an affectionate farewell."
+
+Mr. Lincoln thought that there is a time to joke and pray; and if, as
+his detractors affirm, he joked all the way to Washington, if he did
+not pray also (as we believe he did, and fervently, too) he at least
+desired the prayers of others, as the circumstances recorded in the
+following poem will show. It is from the pen of a lady of
+Philadelphia, Mrs. Anna Bache.
+
+
+                    LINCOLN AT SPRINGFIELD, 1861
+
+               "My friends,--elected by your choice,
+               From the long-cherished home I go,
+               Endeared by Heaven-permitted joys,
+               Sacred by Heaven-permitted woe,
+               I go, to take the helm of State,
+               While loud the waves of faction roar,
+               And by His aid, supremely great,
+               Upon whose will all tempests wait,
+                 I hope to steer the bark to shore.
+               Not since the days when Washington
+               To battle led our patriots on,
+               Have clouds so dark above us met,
+               Have dangers dire so close beset.
+               And _he_ had never saved the land
+               By deeds in human wisdom planned,
+               But that with Christian faith he sought
+               Guidance and blessing, where he ought.
+               Like him, I seek for aid divine,
+               His faith, his hope, his trust, are mine.
+               Pray for me, friends, that God may make
+                 My judgment clear, my duty plain;
+               For if the Lord no wardship take,
+                 The watchmen mount the towers in vain."
+
+               He ceased; and many a manly breast
+                 Panted with strong emotion's swell,
+               And many a lip the sob suppressed,
+                 And tears from manly eyelids fell.
+               And hats came off, and heads were bowed,
+                 As Lincoln slowly moved away;
+               And then, heart-spoken, from the crowd,
+               In accents earnest, clear, and loud,
+                 Came one brief sentence, "We _will_ pray!"
+
+
+
+
+       [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND HIS SECRETARIES,
+                    JOHN G. NICOLAY AND JOHN HAY
+
+          Photographed at Springfield, Illinois, in 1861]
+
+
+
+
+On the 22nd of February, 1861, Washington's birthday, on his journey
+to Washington, to assume the Presidency, Mr. Lincoln raised a new flag
+over Independence Hall, then went inside and spoke as follows:--
+
+"I am filled with deep emotion at finding myself standing in this
+place, where were collected together the wisdom, the patriotism, the
+devotion to principle from which sprang the institutions under which
+we live. You have kindly suggested to me that in my hands is the task
+of restoring peace to our distracted country. I can say in return,
+sirs, that all the political sentiments I entertain have been drawn,
+so far as I have been able to draw them, from the sentiments which
+originated in and were given to the world from this hall. I have never
+had a feeling, politically, that did not spring from the sentiments
+embodied in the Declaration of Independence. I have often pondered
+over the dangers which were incurred by the men who assembled here and
+framed and adopted that Declaration. I have pondered over the toils
+that were endured by the officers and soldiers of the army who
+achieved that independence. I have often inquired of myself what great
+principle or idea it was that kept this Confederacy so long together.
+It was not the mere matter of separation of the colonies from the
+motherland, but that sentiment in the Declaration of Independence
+which gave liberty, not alone to the people of this country, but hope
+to all the world, for all future time. It was that which gave promise
+that in due time the weight would be lifted from the shoulders of all
+men and that all should have an equal chance. This is the sentiment
+embodied in the Declaration of Independence.
+
+"Now, my friends, can this country be saved on that basis? If it can,
+I will consider myself one of the happiest men in the world if I can
+help to save it. But if this country cannot be saved without giving up
+that principle, I was about to say I would rather be assassinated on
+this spot than surrender it."
+
+Four years and two months later, April 22, 1865, his body lay,
+assassinated, on the very spot where he had made the above remarks,
+then being taken to Springfield, Illinois, for burial.
+
+
+          [Illustration: INDEPENDENCE HALL, PHILADELPHIA]
+
+
+
+
+Henry Wilson Clendenin, born at Schellsburg, Pennsylvania, August 1,
+1837; educated in private schools and by tutors. Married Mary E. Morey
+of Monmouth, Illinois, October 23, 1877; to them were born five
+children, four of whom survive: George M., manager _Illinois State
+Register_; Clarence R., Deputy Internal Revenue Collector,
+Springfield, Illinois; Harry F., proofreader, _Illinois State
+Register_, and Marie, Assistant Instructor Physical Education, State
+Normal University, Normal, Illinois. He was a private of Company I,
+Twentieth Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, in the Civil War. Began
+newspaper work on _Burlington_ (Iowa) _Hawkeye_. Afterwards telegraph
+editor _Peoria Transcript_, 1858; telegraph editor _Burlington
+Gazette_, 1863, and editor and proprietor, _Keokuk Daily
+Constitution_, 1876-1881; since that year was editor and president of
+the _Illinois State Register_. Postmaster, Springfield 1886-90. Member
+Illinois State Historical Society, The Jefferson Association, Grand
+Army of the Republic and Sons of the American Revolution. Director of
+Lincoln Library at Springfield, Illinois, for ten years. Member of the
+First Congregational Church of that city.
+
+This sonnet was written by Mr. Clendenin, in Philadelphia, February
+22, 1861, after witnessing Lincoln hoist the flag over Independence
+Hall.
+
+
+                  LINCOLN CALLED TO THE PRESIDENCY
+
+           Hark to the sound that speedeth o'er the land!
+           Behold the sword in fratricidal hand!
+           'Tis duty calls thee, Lincoln, and thy trust
+           Demands that all thy acts be wise and just.
+           No idle task to thee has been assigned,
+           But work that's worthy of a giant mind--
+           And on the issue hangs the nation's fame
+           As a free people who deserve the name.
+           So, walk thou in the way the fathers trod;
+           Be true to freedom, country, and to God;
+           Then truth will triumph, treason be undone,
+           And thou be hailed the second Washington.
+           The first, the Father of his country--thou,
+           Its Saviour. Bind the laurel on thy brow.
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: LINCOLN IN 1858
+
+           From a photograph by S. M. Fassett of Chicago]
+
+
+
+
+An act of Congress July 9, 1790, established the District of Columbia
+as the National Capital, and provided that prior to the first Monday
+of December, 1800, the Commissioners should have finished a suitable
+building for the sessions of Congress. The site of the Capitol was
+included in L'Enfant's plan for the city. The cornerstone was laid
+September 18, 1793, with Masonic rites, George Washington officiating.
+The wings of the central building were completed in 1811, and were
+partially burned by the British, in 1814. The entire central building
+was finished in 1827. The cornerstone of the extension was laid by
+President Fillmore, July 4, 1851. The extensions were first occupied
+by Congress 1857 and 1859. Up to that time the Senate Chamber was the
+present Supreme Court Room, and the Hall of Representatives was the
+present National Statuary Hall. The dome was finished during the
+administration of President Lincoln. The total cost of the Capitol
+building and grounds was about thirty million dollars. The remains of
+President Lincoln were escorted from the White House to the Capitol at
+three o'clock P.M., on the 19th of April, 1865. The number in the
+procession was estimated at forty thousand, and that many more were
+spectators along the route. The burial service was conducted by Dr.
+Gurley. The special train bearing the remains left at 8 A.M., Friday,
+April 21, for Springfield, Illinois, stopping at Baltimore, Maryland;
+Harrisburg and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; Albany and Buffalo, New
+York; Cleveland and Columbus, Ohio; Indianapolis, Indiana; Chicago,
+Illinois, reaching Springfield, Illinois, the 3d of May, and was
+buried the following day. The body lay in state in all of the above
+cities.
+
+
+                     [Illustration: THE CAPITOL
+
+     The Second Inauguration of Abraham Lincoln as President of the
+   United States, in front of the Capitol, Washington, March 4, 1865]
+
+
+
+
+Edwin Markham, born at Oregon City, Oregon, April 23, 1852; settled in
+California in 1857, and worked there during his boyhood, principally
+as a blacksmith. Worked his way through the San Jose Normal School and
+Santa Rosa College. Became a writer of stories and verse for papers
+and magazines, and principal and superintendent of California schools.
+Was the author of _The Man With the Hoe, and Other Poems_ (1899); _The
+Man With the Hoe, with Notes by the Author_ (1900); _The End of the
+Century_ (1899); _Lincoln, the Great Commoner_ (1900); _The Mighty
+Hundred Years; Lincoln and Other Poems_ (1901); _The Shoes of
+Happiness_ (1915). His _Man With the Hoe_ was extensively republished
+and gave him wide fame.
+
+
+                   LINCOLN THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE
+
+            When the Norn-Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour,
+            Greatening and darkening as it hurried on,
+            She bent the strenuous Heavens and came down
+            To make a man to meet the mortal need.
+            She took the tried clay of the common road--
+            Clay warm yet with the genial heat of Earth,
+            Dashed through it all a strain of prophecy;
+            Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff.
+            It was a stuff to wear for centuries,
+            A man that matched the mountains, and compelled
+            The stars to look our way and honor us.
+
+            The color of the ground was in him, the red earth;
+            The tang and odor of the primal things--
+            The rectitude and patience of the rocks;
+            The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn;
+            The courage of the bird that dares the sea;
+            The justice of the rain that loves all leaves;
+            The pity of snow that hides all scars;
+            The loving-kindness of the wayside well;
+            The tolerance and equity of light
+            That gives as freely to the shrinking weed
+            As to the great oak flaring to the wind--
+            To the grave's low hill as to the Matterhorn
+            That shoulders out the sky.
+
+            And so he came.
+            From prairie cabin up to Capitol,
+            One fair ideal led our chieftain on.
+            Forevermore he burned to do his deed
+            With the fine stroke and gesture of a king.
+            He built the rail pile as he built the State,
+            Pouring his splendid strength through every blow,
+            The conscience of him testing every stroke,
+            To make his deed the measure of a man.
+
+            So came the Captain with the mighty heart;
+            And when the step of earthquake shook the house,
+            Wresting the rafters from their ancient hold,
+            He held the ridge-pole up and spiked again
+            The rafters of the Home. He held his place--
+            Held the long purpose like a growing tree--
+            Held on through blame and faltered not at praise,
+            And when he fell, in whirlwind, he went down
+            As when a kingly cedar, green with boughs,
+            Goes down with a great shout upon the hills,
+            And leaves a lonesome place against the sky.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: THE WHITE HOUSE]
+
+
+The corner-stone was laid by George Washington on the 13th of October,
+1792. The mansion was first occupied by President John Adams in the
+year 1800, also by every succeeding President. British troops burned
+it in 1814, in President Madison's term. It was the first public
+building erected in Washington. It is constructed of Virginia
+freestone, and is 170 feet in length, 80 feet in depth, and consists
+of a rustic basement, two stories and an attic.
+
+
+
+
+John Vance Cheney, born Groveland, New York, December 29, 1848.
+Graduated Temple Hill Academy, Genesee, New York, at seventeen.
+Assistant principal there two years later. Practiced law, New York,
+1875-6; librarian Free Public Library, San Francisco, 1887-94;
+Newberry Library, Chicago, 1894-1909; author, _The Old Doctor_, 1881;
+and a number of poems, 1887-1911.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+               The hour was on us; where the man?
+               The fateful sands unfaltering ran,
+                 And up the way of tears
+                 He came into the years.
+
+               Our pastoral captain. Forth he came,
+               As one that answers to his name;
+                 Nor dreamed how high his charge,
+                 His work how fair and large,
+
+               To set the stones back in the wall
+               Lest the divided house should fall,
+                 And peace from men depart,
+                 Hope and the childlike heart.
+
+               We looked on him; "'Tis he," we said,
+               "Come crownless and unheralded,
+                 The shepherd who will keep
+                 The flocks, will fold the sheep."
+
+               Unknightly, yes: yet 'twas the mien
+               Presaging the immortal scene,
+                 Some battles of His wars
+                 Who sealeth up the stars.
+
+               Not he would take the past between
+               His hands, wipe valor's tablets clean,
+                 Commanding greatness wait
+                 Till he stands at the gate;
+
+               Not he would cramp to one small head
+               The awful laurels of the dead,
+                 Time's mighty vintage cup,
+                 And drink all honor up.
+
+               No flutter of the banners bold
+               Borne by the lusty sons of old,
+                 The haughty conquerors
+                 Set forward to their wars;
+
+               Not his their blare, their pageantries,
+               Their goal, their glory, was not his;
+                 Humbly he came to keep
+                 The flocks, to fold the sheep.
+
+               The need comes not without the man;
+               The prescient hours unceasing ran,
+                 And up the way of tears
+                 He came into the years.
+
+               Our pastoral captain, skilled to crook
+               The spear into the pruning hook,
+                 The simple, kindly man,
+                 Lincoln, American.
+
+
+
+
+              [Illustration: WHERE LINCOLN WORSHIPPED
+
+      New York Avenue Presbyterian Church, Washington, D. C.]
+
+
+President Lincoln and family attended this church during his
+Administration. The pew that they occupied is still preserved in its
+black walnut trimmings, though the rest of the sanctuary has been
+refurnished.
+
+
+
+
+Lyman Whitney Allen, born at St. Louis, November 19, 1854. Bachelor of
+Arts, Washington University, St. Louis, 1878; later Master of Arts,
+Princeton Theological, 1878-80; Post-graduate studies at Princeton
+University; (D.D., University of Wooster, 1897). Ordained Presbyterian
+Minister, 1882; stated supply Kimmswick, Missouri, 1881-3; DeSoto,
+Missouri, 1883-5; Pastor-elect Carondelet Church, St. Louis, Missouri,
+1885-9; Pastor South Park Church, Newark, New Jersey, since 1889.
+Director Board of Home Missions, Presbyterian; Chaplain New Jersey
+Society D. A. R.; Member Society American Authors; New Jersey Society
+S. A. R. Club, Princeton (New York). Has written many poems and
+articles, including the New York _Herald's_ $1,000 prize poem which
+was published in 1895.
+
+Rev. Dr. Lyman Whitney Allen of Newark, New Jersey, had for his guest
+Chief Justice Wendell Phillips Stafford of the Supreme Court of the
+District of Columbia. Judge Stafford addressed the Men's Club of Dr.
+Allen's church one evening, and next day, in company with his host,
+visited the Lincoln statue on the court-house plaza. On the train that
+bore him back to Washington that day, Judge Stafford wrote the poem on
+the Statue. (See page 236).
+
+A few weeks thereafter Dr. Allen visited his friend, the judge, in
+Washington, and they made a little pilgrimage to the New York Avenue
+Presbyterian church. In the Lincoln pew Dr. Allen sat and meditated,
+and on his way back he wrote the verses.
+
+"I had seen the Lincoln statue many times," says Dr. Allen, "but,
+somehow, I could not get started on the poem I knew could be written
+around it." And Judge Stafford wrote to his friend in Newark: "I had
+seen the Lincoln pew a score of times without poetic result, yet you
+come on a one-day visit and carry away the inspiration needed."
+
+
+                   LINCOLN'S CHURCH IN WASHINGTON
+
+            Within the historic church both eye and soul
+            Perceived it. 'Twas the pew where Lincoln sat--
+            The only Lincoln God hath given to men--
+            Olden among the modern seats of prayer,
+            Dark like the 'sixties, place and past akin.
+            All else has changed, but this remains the same,
+            A sanctuary in a sanctuary.
+
+            Where Lincoln prayed! What passion had his soul--
+            Mixt faith and anguish melting into prayer
+            Upon the burning altar of God's fane,
+            A nation's altar even as his own.
+
+            Where Lincoln prayed! Such worshipers as he
+            Make thin ranks down the ages. Wouldst thou know
+            His spirit suppliant? Then must thou feel
+            War's fiery baptism, taste hate's bitter cup,
+            Spend similar sweat of blood vicarious,
+            And sound the cry, "If it be possible!"
+            From stricken heart in new Gethsemane.
+
+            Who saw him there are gone, as he is gone;
+            The pew remains, with what God gave him there,
+            And all the world through him. So let it be--
+            One of the people's shrines.
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: LINCOLN IN 1858
+
+       From a photograph in possession of Mr. Stuart Brown of
+                       Springfield, Illinois]
+
+
+
+
+John James Piatt was born in Indiana, March 1, 1835. His earliest
+schooling was received at Rising Sun, in Indiana. At the age of
+fourteen he was set to learn the printing business in the office of
+the _Ohio State Journal_ at Columbus, Ohio, for a brief period, and at
+the age of eighteen years first began to write verses. His poems were
+chiefly on themes connected with his native West.
+
+
+                           SONNET IN 1862
+
+            Stern be the Pilot in the dreadful hour
+            When a great nation, like a ship at sea
+            With the wroth breakers whitening at her lee,
+            Feels her last shudder if her helmsman cower;
+            A godlike manhood be his mighty dower!
+              Such and so gifted, Lincoln, may'st thou be
+              With thy high wisdom's low simplicity
+            And awful tenderness of voted power.
+            From our hot records then thy name shall stand
+              On Time's calm ledger out of passionate days--
+            With the pure debt of gratitude begun,
+              And only paid in never-ending praise--
+            One of the many of a mighty land,
+            Made by God's providence the Anointed One.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+     [Signed:  For Mrs. Lucy G. Speed, from whose pious hand I
+               accepted the present of an Oxford Bible twenty
+               years ago.
+
+               Washington, D. C. October 3, 1861
+
+                                                    A. Lincoln ]]
+
+
+
+
+Lincoln once said: "When any church will inscribe over its altar, as
+its sole qualification for membership, the Saviour's condensed
+statement of the substance of both law and gospel, 'Thou shalt love
+the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul and with all
+thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself', that church will I join with
+all my heart and all my soul."
+
+
+                     LINCOLN, SOLDIER OF CHRIST
+
+                _From Macmillan's Magazine, England_
+
+                Lincoln! When men would name a man
+                  Just, unperturbed, magnanimous,
+                Tried in the lowest seat of all,
+                  Tried in the chief seat of the house--
+
+                Lincoln! When men would name a man
+                  Who wrought the great work of his age,
+                Who fought, and fought the noblest fight,
+                  And marshalled it from stage to stage.
+
+                Victorious, out of dusk and dark,
+                  And into dawn and on till day,
+                Most humble when the paeans rang,
+                  Least rigid when the enemy lay
+
+                Prostrated for his feet to tread--
+                  This name of Lincoln will they name,
+                A name revered, a name of scorn,
+                  Of scorn to sundry, not to fame.
+
+                Lincoln; the man who freed the slave;
+                  Lincoln, whom never self enticed;
+                Slain Lincoln, worthy found to die
+                  A soldier of the captain Christ.
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: LINCOLN IN 1860
+
+  Photographed by Brady at the time of the "Cooper Institute Speech,"
+                          February, 1860]
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+                 Photograph by Gardner, Washington]
+
+
+
+
+Rev. Hamilton Schuyler was born in Oswego, New York, 1862, and is a
+son of the late Anthony Schuyler, who was for many years rector of
+Grace Church, Orange, New Jersey. He belongs to the well-known family
+of that name, being seventh in descent from Philip Peterse Schuyler,
+founder of the family, who came to this country from Holland and
+settled in Albany in 1650. He studied at Oxford University, England,
+and the General Theological Seminary of New York. Has held positions
+in Calvary Church, New York; Trinity Church, Newport, Rhode Island,
+and was for several years dean of the Cathedral at Davenport, Iowa,
+under the late Bishop Perry. He began his rectorship at Trenton in
+February, 1900. Has written extensively for journals and periodicals.
+Among the bound publications which bear his name as author are _A
+Fisher of Men_, a biography of the late Churchill Satterlee, priest
+and missionary, son of the first Bishop of Washington; _Studies in
+English Church History_; _The Intellectual Crisis Confronting
+Christianity_; and _A History of Trinity Church, Trenton_. In 1900 his
+poem, _The Incapable_, won a prize of two hundred dollars offered by
+the late Collis P. Huntington through the _New York Sun_, for the best
+poems antithetical to Edwin Markham's _Man With the Hoe_. A volume of
+Mr. Schuyler's verses, under the title _Within the Cloister's Shadow_,
+was published in 1914.
+
+
+                   A CHARACTERIZATION OF LINCOLN
+
+                    _From Lincoln Centenary Ode_
+
+                   Tall, ungainly, gaunt of limb,
+                   Rudely Nature molded him.
+                   Awkward form and homely face,
+                   Owing naught to outward grace;
+                   Yet, behind the rugged mien
+                   Were a mind and soul serene,
+                   And in deep-set eyes there shone
+                   Genius that was all his own.
+                   Humor quaint with pathos blent
+                   To his speech attraction lent;
+                   Telling phrase and homely quip
+                   Falling lightly from his lip.
+                   Eloquent of tongue, and clear,
+                   Logical, devoid of fear,
+                   Making plain whate'er was dense
+                   By the light of common sense.
+                   Tender as the bravest be,
+                   Pitiful in high degree,
+                   Wrathful only where offence
+                   Led to grievous consequence;
+                   Hating sham and empty show;
+                   Chivalrous to beaten foe;
+                   Ever patient in his ways;
+                   Cheerful in the darkest days;
+                   Not a demi-god or saint
+                   Such as fancy loves to paint,
+                   But a truly human man
+                   Built on the heroic plan.
+
+
+
+
+                 [Illustration: EMANCIPATION GROUP]
+
+
+Moses Kimball, a citizen of Boston, presented to the city a duplicate
+of the Freedman's Memorial Statue erected in Lincoln Park, Washington,
+D. C., after a design by Thomas Ball. The group, which stands in Park
+Square, represents the figure of a slave from whose limbs the broken
+fetters have fallen, kneeling in gratitude at the feet of Lincoln. The
+verses which follow were written for the unveiling of the statue,
+December 9, 1879.
+
+
+John Greenleaf Whittier, born December 17, 1807, in Haverhill,
+Massachusetts. He lived on a farm until he reached the age of
+eighteen, working a little at shoemaking and also writing poetry for
+the _Haverhill Gazette_. Later he became editor of a number of papers,
+and his poems in after life were full of patriotism and the love of
+human freedom, all of which attained a strong hold on the hearts of
+the people. He would have prevented war, if possible, with honor, but
+when war came he wrote in support of the Union cause, displaying no
+bitterness, and when the conflict was over he was most liberal and
+conciliatory. He was one of the most popular of poets. He died
+September 7, 1892.
+
+
+                       THE EMANCIPATION GROUP
+
+                  Amidst thy sacred effigies
+                    Of old renown give place,
+                  O city. Freedom-loved! to his
+                    Whose hand unchained a race.
+
+                  Take the worn frame, that rested not
+                    Save in a martyr's grave;
+                  The care-lined face, that none forgot,
+                    Bent to the kneeling slave.
+
+                  Let man be free! The mighty word
+                    He spoke was not his own;
+                  An impulse from the Highest stirred
+                    These chiseled lips alone.
+
+                  The cloudy sign, the fiery guide,
+                    Along his pathway ran,
+                  And Nature, through his voice, denied
+                    The ownership of man.
+
+                  We rest in peace where these sad eyes
+                    Saw peril, strife, and pain;
+                  His was the Nation's sacrifice,
+                    And ours the priceless gain.
+
+                  O symbol of God's will on earth
+                    As it is done above
+                  Bear witness to the cost and worth
+                    Of justice and of love!
+
+                  Stand in thy place and testify
+                    To coming ages long,
+                  That truth is stronger than a lie,
+                    And righteousness than wrong.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+           Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1863]
+
+
+
+
+Theron Brown, born at Willimantic, Connecticut, April 29, 1832.
+Graduated at Hartford Theological Seminary in 1858; Newton Theological
+Institution, 1859. Ordained in Baptist Ministry, 1859; Pastor South
+Framingham, Massachusetts, 1859-62; Canton, Massachusetts, 1863-70; on
+staff _Youth's Companion_ since 1870. Author various juvenile stories;
+_Life Songs_ (poems), 1894; _Nameless Women of the Bible_, 1904; _The
+Story of the Hymns and Tunes_, 1907; _Under the Mulberry Tree_ (a
+novel), 1909; _The Birds of God_, 1911. He died February 14, 1914.
+
+
+                           THE LIBERATOR
+
+                When, scornful of a nation's rest,
+                  The angry horns of Discord blew
+                There came a giant from the West,
+                  And found a giant's work to do.
+
+                He saw, in sorrow--and in wrath--
+                  A mighty empire in its strait,
+                Torn like a planet in its path
+                  To warring hemisphere of hate.
+
+                Between the thunder-clouds he stood;
+                  He harked to Ruin's battle-drum,
+                And cried in patriot hardihood,
+                  "Why do I wait? My hour has come!
+
+                "Was it my fate, my lot, my woe
+                  To be the Ruler of the land,
+                Nor own my oath that long ago
+                  I swore upon this heart and hand?
+
+                "That vow, like barb from bowman's string,
+                  Shall pierce sedition's secret plea:
+                God grant the bloodless blow shall sting
+                  Till brother's quarrels cease to be!
+
+                "Should once the sudden wound provoke
+                  New strife in anger's zone
+                The clash may be the penal stroke
+                  That makes a new Republic one."
+
+                He wrote his Message--clear as light,
+                  And bolder than a king's command--
+                And when war's whirlwinds spent their might
+                  There was no bondman in the land.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+           Photograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D. C.,
+                           January 24, 1863]
+
+
+
+
+                        TO PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+                         _January 1, 1863_
+
+
+          Lincoln, that with thy steadfast truth the sand
+          Of men and time and circumstance dost sway!
+          The slave-cloud dwindles on this golden day,
+          And over all the pestilent southern land,
+          Breathless, the dark expectant millions stand,
+            To watch the northern sun rise on its way,
+            Cleaving the stormy distance--every ray
+          Sword-bright, sword-sharp, in God's invisible hand.
+
+          Better with this great end, partial defeat,
+            And jibings of the ignorant worldly-wise,
+              Than laud and triumph won with shameful blows.
+          The dead Past lies in its dead winding-sheet;
+            The living Present droops with tearful eyes;
+              But far beyond the awaiting Future glows.
+
+                      _Edmund Ollier, in London (Eng.) Morning Star._
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+               Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C.]
+
+
+
+
+Charles G. Foltz was born at West Winfield, Herkimer County, New York,
+September 9, 1837. His parents were Benjamin Foltz, a Presbyterian
+clergyman, and Jane Harwood Foltz. In 1846 the family moved to
+Cuyahoga County, Ohio. In 1849 to Wisconsin, first to Rock County,
+then to Walworth County, and in 1854 to Burlington, Racine County,
+where he has since resided.
+
+
+                        ON FREEDOM'S SUMMIT
+
+            On freedom's summit, Oh, how grand
+            Stood Lincoln ruler of our land,
+              As he issued the sublime command
+              Let the enslaved be free.
+            Ere long he saw the Bondmen rise;
+            Ere long as Freedmen seize the prize,
+              The precious boon of liberty.
+
+            A backward glance he cast
+            Into the valley of the past,
+              Amid the shade and gloom
+              Discerning slavery's tomb.
+            Out from the depths his upturned eyes
+            Beheld the fleeing clouds the brighter skies.
+              Upon him shone a glory like the sun,
+              Reflecting "peace toward all, malice toward none."
+
+            As thus he filled his high exalted place,
+            The brave emancipator of a race,
+              He thought of the fierce struggle and the victory
+              And humbly deemed himself to be
+              Only the instrument of a Divine decree.
+            Rejoicing in the faith of brighter coming days
+            His "fervent prayers" were merged in those of praise.
+
+            Like unto psalmists of the olden time
+              His uttered thoughts inspired the nation's song,
+            Throughout the land the chorus rose sublime,
+              The exultant triumph of the right o'er wrong.
+
+            "Behold, what God the Lord hath wrought,"
+            More than we asked, or hoped, or thought.
+              Through the "Red sea" of blood and carnage
+              He brought our nation free of bondage.
+            With Moses sing, yea shout O North;
+            With Miriam answer back O South:
+              That "He hath triumphed gloriously."
+
+                  .       .       .       .       .
+
+           Oh why the sudden blotting out of light?
+           The cloud of sorrow, dark as Plutonian night,
+           That cast its lengthening shadow o'er the land;
+           Changing to funeral dirge the choral grand.
+             Swift as the typhoon's breath--
+             The harbinger of death--
+               The cruel deed of hate
+           Swept the grand chief away.
+           Unto this day, and ever aye,
+               The nation mourns her martyr's fate.
+
+
+
+
+               [Illustration: Lincoln at Gettysburg]
+
+
+                ADDRESS DELIVERED AT THE DEDICATION
+                   OF THE CEMETERY AT GETTYSBURG
+
+
+Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this
+continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the
+proposition that all men are created equal.
+
+Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation,
+or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are
+met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a
+portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave
+their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and
+proper that we should do this.
+
+But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate--we cannot consecrate--we
+cannot hallow--this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who
+struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add
+or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say
+here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the
+living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they
+who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us
+to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us,--that from
+these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which
+they gave their last full measure of devotion--that we here highly
+resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain--that this nation,
+under God, shall have a new birth of freedom--and that government of
+the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the
+earth.
+
+  November 19, 1863.                             ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
+
+
+"Undoubtedly there were many in the audience who fully appreciated the
+beauty of the President's address, and many of those who read it on
+the following day perceived its wondrous character; but it is apparent
+that its full force and grandeur were not generally recognized then,
+either by its auditors or its readers. Not until the war had ended and
+the great leader had fallen did the nation realize that this speech
+had given to Gettysburg another claim to immortality and to American
+eloquence its highest glory."--From the monograph on the Gettysburg
+Address, by Maj. William H. Lambert.
+
+
+
+
+Bayard Taylor, born in Kennett Square, Chester County, Pennsylvania,
+on the 11th of January, 1825. Died in Berlin, Germany, on the 19th of
+December, 1878. His boyhood was passed on a farm near Kennett. He
+learned to read at four, began to write at an early age, and from his
+twelfth year wrote poems, novels and historical essays, but mostly
+poems. In 1837 the family moved to Westchester, and there and at
+Unionville he had five years of high-school training. His first poem
+printed was contributed to the _Saturday Evening Post_, in 1841, and
+those to the _New York Tribune_ from abroad, written in 1844, were
+widely read and shortly after his return were collected and published
+in _Views Afoot, or Europe Seen With Knapsack and Staff_. With a
+friend he bought a printing office in 1846, and began to publish the
+_Phoenixville Pioneer_, but it was as a poet that he excelled above
+most other vocations.
+
+
+                           GETTYSBURG ODE
+
+          After the eyes that looked, the lips that spake
+          Here, from the shadows of impending death,
+          Those words of solemn breath,
+              What voice may fitly break
+          The silence, doubly hallowed, left by him?
+          We can but bow the head, with eyes grown dim,
+              And, as a Nation's litany, repeat
+          The phrase his martyrdom hath made complete,
+          Noble as then, but now more sadly sweet:
+          "Let us, the Living, rather dedicate
+          Ourselves to the unfinished work, which they
+          Thus far advanced so nobly on its way,
+              And saved the periled State!
+          Let us, upon this field where they, the brave,
+          Their last full measure of devotion gave,
+          Highly resolve they have not died in vain!--
+          That, under God, the Nation's later birth
+          Of freedom, and the people's gain
+          Of their own Sovereignty, shall never wane
+          And perish from the circle of the earth!"
+          From such a perfect text, shall Song aspire
+          To light her faded fire,
+              And into wandering music turn
+          Its virtue, simple, sorrowful, and stern?
+          His voice all elegies anticipated;
+              For, whatsoe'er the strain,
+              We hear that one refrain:
+          "We consecrate ourselves to them, the Consecrated!"
+
+
+
+
+    [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND HIS SON THOMAS ("TAD")]
+
+
+
+
+Benjamin Franklin Taylor, born at Lowville, New York, July 19, 1819.
+He was for several years connected with the _Chicago Evening Journal_.
+He wrote _Pictures of Life in Camp and Field_ (1871); _The World on
+Wheels_, etc. (1874); _Songs of Yesterday_ (1877); _Between the Gates_
+(1878); _Summer Savory_, etc. (1879); _Dulce Domum_ (1884);
+_Theophilus Trent_, a novel (1887); etc. Among his best known poems
+are: _Isle of the Long Ago_, _Rhymes of the River_, and _The Old
+Village Choir_.
+
+
+                     LINCOLN'S SECOND INAUGURAL
+
+     The following is an excerpt from a _Centennial Poem_ read by
+     B. F. Taylor on Decoration Day (May 30, 1876), on the
+     occasion of the centennial celebration by the Department of
+     the Potomac, Grand Army of the Republic, at Arlington
+     Cemetery, Washington, D. C.
+
+          They see the pilgrims to the Springfield tomb--
+            Be proud today, oh, portico of gloom!--
+            Where lies the man in solitary state
+            Who never caused a tear but when he died
+          And set the flags around the world half-mast--
+          The gentle Tribune and so grandly great
+            That e'en the utter avarice of Death
+            That claims the world, and will not be denied,
+            Could only rob him of his mortal breath.
+          How strange the splendor, though the man be past!
+          His noblest inspiration was his last.
+          The statues of the Capitol are there.
+          As when he stood upon the marble stair
+          And said those words so tender, true and just,
+          A royal psalm that took mankind on trust--
+          Those words that will endure and he in them,
+          While May wears flowers upon her broidered hem,
+          And all that marble snows and drifts to dust:
+          "Fondly do we hope, fervently we pray
+          That this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away:
+          With charity for all, with malice toward none,
+            With firmness in the right
+            As God shall give us light,
+          Let us finish the work already begun,
+          Care for the battle sons, the Nation's wounds to bind,
+          Care for the helpless ones that they will leave behind,
+          Cherish it we will, achieve it if we can,
+          A just and lasting peace, forever unto man!"
+          Amid old Europe's rude and thundering years,
+            When people strove as battle-clouds are driven,
+          One calm white angel of a day appears
+            In every year a gift direct from Heaven,
+          Wherein, from setting sun to setting sun
+          No thought of deed of bitterness was done.
+          "Day of the Truce of God!" Be this day ours,
+            Until perpetual peace flows like a river
+          And hopes as fragrant as these tribute flowers
+            Fill all the land forever and forever!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+              Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C.]
+
+
+
+
+Hermann Hagedorn, born in New York, July 18, 1882. Instructor in
+English at Harvard in 1909-1911. Wrote several one-act plays which
+were produced by the Harvard Dramatic Club, and by clubs of other
+colleges. Author of _The Silver Blade_ (a play in verse), _The Woman
+of Corinth_, _A Troop of the Guard_ and other poems.
+
+
+                         OH, PATIENT EYES!
+
+           Oh, patient eyes! oh, bleeding, mangled heart!
+           Oh, hero, whose wide soul, defying chains,
+           Swept at each army's head,
+               Swept to the charge and bled,
+           Gathering in one too sorrow-laden heart
+             All woes, all pains;
+             The anguish of the trusted hope that wanes,
+           The soldier's wound, the lonely mourner's smart.
+           He knew the noisy horror of the fight,
+           From dawn to dusk and through the hideous night
+             He heard the hiss of bullets, the shrill scream
+               Of the wide-arching shell,
+             Scattering at Gettysburg or by Potomac's stream,
+           Like summer flowers, the pattering rain of death;
+           With every breath,
+             He tasted battle and in every dream,
+               Trailing like mists from gaping walls of hell,
+               He heard the thud of heroes as they fell.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+                        Photograph by Brady]
+
+
+
+
+Margaret Elizabeth Sangster, born at New Rochelle, New York, February
+22, 1838. Educated privately, chiefly in New York. Became contributor
+to leading periodicals; also editor of _Hearth and Home_, 1871-73;
+_Christian at Work_, 1873-79; _The Christian Intelligencer_ since
+1879; postmistress _Harper's Young People_, 1882-89; editor _Harper's
+Bazar_, 1889-99; staff contributor _Christian Herald_ since 1894;
+_Ladies' Home Journal_, 1899-1905; _Woman's Home Companion_ since
+1905. Author _Poems of the Household_; _Home Fairies and Heart
+Flowers_; _On the Road Home_; _Easter Bells_; _Winsome Womanhood_;
+_Little Knights and Ladies_; _Lyrics of Love_; _When Angels Come to
+Men_; _Good Manners for All Occasions_; _The Story Bible_; _Fairest
+Girlhood_; _From My Youth Up_; _Happy School Days_. She died June 4,
+1912.
+
+
+                          ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+                     (_February 12, 1809-1909_)
+
+      Child of the boundless prairie, son of the virgin soil,
+      Heir to the bearing of burdens, brother to them that toil;
+      God and Nature together shaped him to lead in the van,
+      In the stress of her wildest weather when the Nation needed
+            a Man.
+
+      Eyes of a smoldering fire, heart of a lion at bay,
+      Patience to plan for tomorrow, valor to serve for today,
+      Mournful and mirthful and tender, quick as a flash with a jest,
+      Hiding with gibe and great laughter the ache that was dull
+            in his breast.
+
+      Met were the Man and the Hour--Man who was strong for the shock--
+      Fierce were the lightnings unleashed; in the midst, he stood
+            fast as a rock.
+      Comrade he was and commander, he who was meant for the time,
+      Iron in council and action, simple, aloof, and sublime.
+
+      Swift slip the years from their tether, centuries pass like a
+            breath,
+      Only some lives are immortal, challenging darkness and death.
+      Hewn from the stuff of the martyrs, write on the stardust
+            his name,
+      Glowing, untarnished, transcendent, high on the records of Fame.
+
+      Oh, man of many sorrows, 'twas your blood
+        That flowed at Chickamauga, at Bull Run,
+      Vicksburg, Antietam, and the gory wood
+      And Wilderness of ravenous Deaths that stood
+        Round Richmond like a ghostly garrison:
+          Your blood for those who won,
+            For those who lost, your tears!
+            For you the strife, the fears,
+          For us, the sun!
+      For you the lashing winds and the beating rain in your eyes,
+      For us the ascending stars and the wide, unbounded skies.
+
+      Oh, man of storms! Patient and kingly soul!
+        Oh, wise physician of a wasted land!
+        A nation felt upon its heart your hand,
+      And lo, your hand hath made the shattered, whole,
+      With iron clasp your hand hath held the wheel
+      Of the lurching ship, on tempest waves no keel
+        Hath ever sailed.
+        A grim smile held your lips when strong men quailed.
+        You strove alone with chaos and prevailed;
+      You felt the grinding shock and did not reel,
+      And, ah, your hand that cut the battle's path
+      Wide with the devastating plague of wrath,
+        Your bleeding hand, gentle with pity yet,
+        Did not forget
+      To bless, to succor, and to heal.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+     Photograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D. C., 1864]
+
+
+
+
+Wilbur Dick Nesbit was born at Xenia, Ohio, September 16, 1871.
+Educated in the public schools at Cedarville, Ohio. Was printer and
+reporter on various Ohio and Indiana papers until 1898; verse writer
+and paragrapher _Baltimore American_, 1899-1902; since that year
+writer of verse and humor _Chicago Evening Post_ and other newspapers,
+contributor of stories and poems to magazines and periodicals. Author
+of _Little Henry's Slate_, 1903; _The Trail to Boyland and Other
+Poems_, 1904; _An Alphabet of History_, 1905; _The Gentleman Ragman_,
+1906; _A Book of Poems_, 1906; _The Land of Make-Believe and Other
+Christmas Poems_, 1907; _A Friend or Two_, 1908; _The Loving Cup_
+(compilation), 1909; _The Old, Old Wish_, 1911; _My Company of
+Friends_, 1911; _If the Heart be Glad_, 1911; co-author with Otto
+Hauerbach of _The Girl of My Dreams_, a musical comedy, 1910.
+
+
+                          THE MAN LINCOLN
+
+               Not as the great who grow more great
+                 Until from us they are apart--
+               He walks with us in man's estate;
+                 We know his was a brother heart.
+               The marching years may render dim
+                 The humanness of other men;
+               Today we are akin to him
+                 As they who knew him best were then.
+
+               Wars have been won by mail-clad hands,
+                 Realms have been ruled by sword-hedged kings,
+               But he above these others stands
+                 As one who loved the common things;
+               The common faith of man was his,
+                 The common faith of man he had--
+               For this today his grave face is
+                 A face half joyous and half sad.
+
+               A man of earth! Of earthy stuff,
+                 As honest as the fruitful soil,
+               Gnarled as the friendly trees, and rough
+                 As hillsides that had known his toil;
+               Of earthy stuff--let it be told,
+                 For earth-born men rise and reveal
+               A courage fair as beaten gold
+                 And the enduring strength of steel.
+
+               So now he dominates our thought.
+                 This humble great man holds us thus
+               Because of all he dreamed and wrought;
+                 Because he is akin to us.
+               He held his patient trust in truth
+                 While God was working out His plan,
+               And they that were his foes, forsooth,
+                 Came to pay tribute to the Man.
+
+               Not as the great who grow more great
+                 Until they have a mystic fame--
+               No stroke of fortune nor of fate
+                 Gave Lincoln his undying name.
+               A common man, earth-bred, earth-born,
+                 One of the breed who work and wait--
+               His was a soul above all scorn.
+                 His was a heart above all hate.
+
+
+
+
+            [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN AT ANTIETAM
+
+       Photograph taken on the battlefield, September, 1862,
+            with General McClellan and Allen Pinkerton]
+
+
+
+
+Edwin Arlington Robinson, born at Head Tide, Maine, December 22, 1869.
+Educated at Gardiner, Maine, and Harvard University, 1891-3. Member
+National Institute Arts and Letters. Author: _The Torrent_ and _The
+Night Before_, 1896; _The Children of the Night_, 1897, 1905; _Captain
+Craig_ (poems), _The Town Down the River_, 1910.
+
+
+                             THE MASTER
+
+                             (LINCOLN)
+
+                 A flying word from here and there
+                   Had sown the name at which we sneered,
+                 But soon the name was everywhere,
+                   To be reviled and then revered:
+                 A presence to be loved and feared,
+                   We cannot hide it, or deny
+                 That we, the gentlemen who jeered,
+                   May be forgotten by and by.
+
+                 He came when days were perilous
+                   And hearts of men were sore beguiled;
+                 And having made his note of us,
+                   He pondered and was reconciled.
+                 Was ever master yet so mild
+                   As he, and so untamable?
+                 We doubted, even when he smiled,
+                   Not knowing what he knew so well.
+
+                 He knew that undeceiving fate
+                   Would shame us whom he served unsought;
+                 He knew that he must wince and wait--
+                   The jest of those for whom he fought;
+                 He knew devoutly what he thought
+                   Of us and of our ridicule;
+                 He knew that we must all be taught
+                   Like little children in a school.
+
+                 We gave a glamour to the task
+                   That he encountered and saw through,
+                 But little of us did he ask,
+                   And little did we ever do.
+                 And what appears if we review
+                   The season when we railed and chaffed?
+                 It is the face of one who knew
+                   That we were learning while we laughed.
+
+                 The face that in our vision feels
+                   Again the venom that we flung,
+                 Transfigured to the world reveals
+                   The vigilance to which we clung.
+                 Shrewd, hallowed, harassed, and among
+                   The mysteries that are untold,
+                 The face we see was never young
+                   Nor could it ever have been old.
+
+                 For he, to whom we had applied
+                   Our shopman's test of age and worth,
+                 Was elemental when he died,
+                   As he was ancient at his birth:
+                 The saddest among kings of earth,
+                   Bowed with a galling crown, this man
+                 Met rancor with a cryptic mirth,
+                   Laconic--and Olympian.
+
+                 The love, the grandeur, and the fame
+                   Are bounded by the world alone;
+                 The calm, the smouldering, and the flame
+                   Of awful patience were his own;
+                 With him they are forever flown
+                   Past all our fond self-shadowings,
+                 Wherewith we cumber the Unknown
+                   As with inept, Icarian wings.
+
+                 For we were not as other men:
+                   'Twas ours to soar and his to see.
+                 But we are coming down again,
+                   And we shall come down pleasantly;
+                 Nor shall we longer disagree
+                   On what it is to be sublime,
+                 But flourish in our perigee
+                   And have one Titan at a time.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+              Photograph by Gardner, Washington, D. C.
+          Taken when Lincoln appointed General U. S. Grant
+              Commander-in-chief of the Army, in 1864]
+
+
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+                        _By Harriet Monroe_
+
+
+            And, lo! leading a blessed host comes one
+            Who held a warring nation in his heart;
+            Who knew love's agony, but had no part
+            In love's delight; whose mighty task was done
+            Through blood and tears that we might walk in joy,
+            And this day's rapture own no sad alloy.
+            Around him heirs of bliss, whose bright brows wear
+            Palm leaves amid their laurels ever fair.
+            Gaily they come, as though the drum
+            Beat out the call their glad hearts knew so well;
+            Brothers once more, dear as of yore,
+            Who in a noble conflict nobly fell.
+            Their blood washed pure yon banner in the sky,
+            And quenched the brands laid 'neath these arches high--
+            The brave who, having fought, can never die.
+
+
+
+
+               [Illustration: PRESIDENT-ELECT LINCOLN
+
+           From a photograph taken with his Secretaries,
+                   John G. Nicolay and John Hay,
+                    Springfield, Illinois, 1861]
+
+
+
+
+Walt Mason, born at Columbus, Ontario, May 4, 1862. Self educated.
+Came to the United States 1880. Connected with the _Atchinson Globe_
+1885-7, later with _Lincoln_ (Nebraska) _State Journal_ and other
+papers; editorial paragrapher _Evening News_, Washington, D. C., 1893;
+associated with William Allen White on _Emporia_ (Kansas) _Gazette_
+since 1907. His rhymes and prose poems are widely copied in America.
+
+
+                        THE EYES OF LINCOLN
+
+               Sad eyes that were patient and tender,
+                 Sad eyes that were steadfast and true,
+               And warm with the unchanging splendor
+                 Of courage no ills could subdue!
+
+               Eyes dark with the dread of the morrow,
+                 And woe for the day that was gone,
+               The sleepless companions of sorrow,
+                 The watchers that witnessed the dawn.
+
+               Eyes tired from the clamor and goading
+                 And dim from the stress of the years,
+               And hallowed by pain and foreboding
+                 And strained by repression of tears.
+
+               Sad eyes that were wearied and blighted
+                 By visions of sieges and wars
+               Now watch o'er a country united
+                 From the luminous slopes of the stars!
+
+
+
+
+              [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN IN 1862
+
+          Photograph by Matthew Brady, Washington, D. C.]
+
+
+
+
+Arthur Guiterman, author, born of American parentage, at Vienna,
+Austria, November 20, 1871. Editorial work on _Woman's Home
+Companion_, _Literary Digest_ and other magazines since 1891. Author
+of _Betel Nuts_, 1907; _Guest Book_, 1908; _Rubiayat_, including the
+_Literary Omar_, 1909, and _Orestes_ (with Andre Tridon), 1909.
+Contributor chiefly of ballad, lyric verse and short stories to
+magazines and newspapers.
+
+
+                         HE LEADS US STILL
+
+          Dare we despair? Through all the nights and days
+            Of lagging war he kept his courage true.
+          Shall Doubt befog our eyes? A darker haze
+            But proved the faith of him who ever knew
+          That Right must conquer. May we cherish hate
+            For our poor griefs, when never word nor deed
+          Of rancor, malice, spite, of low or great,
+            In his large soul one poison-drop could breed?
+
+          He leads us still. O'er chasms yet unspanned
+            Our pathway lies; the work is but begun;
+          But we shall do our part and leave our land
+            The mightier for noble battles won.
+          Here Truth must triumph, Honor must prevail;
+          The nation Lincoln died for cannot fail!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+           Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1864]
+
+
+
+
+S. Weir Mitchell, born at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, February 15,
+1829. Educated in grammar school, and University of Pennsylvania, but
+was not graduated because of illness during senior year; Doctor of
+Medicine, Jefferson Medical College, 1850; LL.D., Harvard, 1886;
+Edinburgh, 1895; Princeton, 1896; Toronto, 1896; Jefferson Medical
+College, Philadelphia, 1910. Established practice in Philadelphia.
+Author of many works on treatment of diseases. _Collected Poems_,
+1896-1909; _Youth of Washington_, 1904; _A Diplomatic Adventure_,
+1905; _The Mind Reader_, 1907; _A Christmas Venture_, 1907; _John
+Sherwood, Ironmaster_, 1911.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+            Chained by stern duty to the rock of State,
+            His spirit armed in mail of rugged mirth,
+            Ever above, though ever near to earth,
+            Yet felt his heart the cruel tongues that sate
+            Base appetites and, foul with slander, wait
+            Till the keen lightnings bring the awful hour
+            When wounds and suffering shall give them power.
+            Most was he like to Luther, gay and great,
+            Solemn and mirthful, strong of heart and limb.
+            Tender and simple, too; he was so near
+            To all things human that he cast out fear,
+            And, ever simpler, like a little child,
+            Lived in unconscious nearness unto Him
+            Who always on earth's little ones hath smiled.
+
+
+
+
+              [Illustration: STATUE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+            In the Public Square, Hodgenville, Kentucky.
+                    Adolph A. Weinman, Sculptor]
+
+
+
+
+George Alfred Townsend was born in Georgetown, Delaware, January 30,
+1841. In 1860 he began writing for the press and speaking in public,
+and in 1860 adopted the profession of journalism. In 1862 he became a
+war correspondent for the _New York World_, the _Chicago Tribune_ and
+other papers, and made an enviable reputation as a descriptive writer.
+He also published a number of books both of prose and poetry.
+
+
+                          ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+               The peaceful valley reaching wide,
+                 The wild war stilled on every hand;
+               On Pisgah's top our prophet died,
+                 In sight of promised land.
+
+               Low knelt the foeman's serried fronts,
+                 His cannon closed their lips of brass,--
+               The din of arms hushed all at once
+                 To let this good man pass.
+
+               A cheerful heart he wore alway,
+                 Though tragic years clashed on the while;
+               Death sat behind him at the play--
+                 His last look was a smile.
+
+               No battle-pike his march imbrued,
+                 Unarmed he went midst martial mails,
+               The footsore felt their hopes renewed
+                 To hear his homely tales.
+
+               His single arm crushed wrong and thrall
+                 That grand good will we only dreamed,
+               Two races wept around his pall,
+                 One saved and one redeemed.
+
+               The trampled flag he raised again,
+                 And healed our eagle's broken wing;
+               The night that scattered armed men
+                 Saw scorpions rise to sting.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+           Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1864]
+
+
+
+
+Paul Lawrence Dunbar, born of negro parents at Dayton, Ohio, June 27,
+1872. Was graduated at the Dayton High School in 1891, and since then
+has devoted himself to literature and journalism. He has written _Oak
+and Ivy_ (poems); _Lyrics of Lowly Life_ (poems), and _The Uncalled_
+(a novel). Since 1898 he has been on the staff of the Librarian of
+Congress.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+         Hurt was the Nation with a mighty wound,
+         And all her ways were filled with clam'rous sound.
+         Wailed loud the South with unremitting grief,
+         And wept the North that could not find relief.
+         Then madness joined its harshest tone to strife:
+         A minor note swelled in the song of life
+         Till, stirring with the love that filled his breast,
+         But still, unflinching at the Right's behest
+         Grave Lincoln came, strong-handed, from afar,--
+         The mighty Homer of the lyre of war!
+         'Twas he who bade the raging tempest cease,
+         Wrenched from his strings the harmony of peace,
+         Muted the strings that made the discord,--Wrong,
+         And gave his spirit up in thund'rous song.
+         Oh, mighty Master of the mighty lyre!
+         Earth heard and trembled at thy strains of fire:
+         Earth learned of thee what Heaven already knew,
+         And wrote thee down among her treasured few!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+          Photograph by Gardner, Washington, D. C., 1865]
+
+
+
+
+Alice Cary was born in Mount Healthy, near Cincinnati, Ohio, April 20,
+1820. Her first book of poems, with her sister Phoebe, was published
+in 1850. Her poems and prose writings were pictures from life and
+nature, among which were _Pictures of Memory_, _Mulberry Hill_,
+_Coming Home_ and _Nobility_. She died at her home in New York City,
+February 12, 1871. This poem is inscribed to the _London Punch_.
+
+
+                          ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+        No glittering chaplet brought from other lands!
+          As in his life, this man, in death, is ours;
+        His own loved prairies o'er his "gaunt, gnarled hands,"
+          Have fitly drawn their sheet of summer flowers!
+
+        What need hath he now of a tardy crown,
+          His name from mocking jest and sneer to save
+        When every plowman turns his furrow down
+          As soft as though it fell upon his grave?
+
+        He was a man whose like the world again
+          Shall never see, to vex with blame or praise;
+        The landmarks that attest his bright, brief reign,
+          Are battles, not the pomps of gala days!
+
+        The grandest leader of the grandest war
+          That ever time in history gave a place,--
+        What were the tinsel flattery of a star
+          To such a breast! or what a ribbon's grace!
+
+        'Tis to th' man, and th' man's honest worth,
+          The Nation's loyalty in tears upsprings;
+        Through him the soil of labor shines henceforth,
+          High o'er the silken broideries of kings.
+
+        The mechanism of eternal forms--
+          The shifts that courtiers put their bodies through--
+        Were alien ways to him: his brawny arms
+          Had other work than posturing to do!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+     Photograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D. C., 1865]
+
+
+
+
+Rose Terry Cooke was born in West Hartford, Connecticut, February 17,
+1827. Graduated at Hartford Female Seminary in 1843. She has written
+many short stories and a number of books of poems.
+
+
+                          ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+        Hundreds there have been, loftier than their kind,
+        Heroes and victors in the world's great wars:
+        Hundreds, exalted as the eternal stars,
+        By the great heart, or keen and mighty mind;
+        There have been sufferers, maimed and halt and blind,
+        Who bore their woes in such triumphant calm
+        That God hath crowned them with the martyr's palm;
+        And there were those who fought through fire to find
+        Their Master's face, and were by fire refined.
+        But who like thee, oh Sire! hath ever stood
+        Steadfast for truth and right, when lies and wrong
+        Rolled their dark waters, turbulent and strong;
+        Who bore reviling, baseness, tears and blood
+        Poured out like water, till thine own was spent,
+        Then reaped Earth's sole reward--a grave and monument!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+           Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1865]
+
+
+
+
+Frederick Lucian Hosmer, born at Framingham, Massachusetts, October
+16, 1840. Graduated at Harvard in 1869. Ordained in Unitarian Ministry
+at Northboro, Massachusetts, in 1869. Author of _The Way of Life_,
+_The Thought of God, in Hymns and Poems_.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+                The prairies to the mountains call,
+                  The mountains to the sea;
+                From shore to shore a nation keeps
+                  Her martyr's memory.
+
+                Though lowly born, the seal of God
+                  Was in that rugged face;
+                Still from the humble Nazareths come
+                  The Saviours of the race.
+
+                With patient heart and vision clear
+                  He wrought through trying days--
+                "Malice toward none, with Charity for all,"
+                  Unswerved by blame or praise.
+
+                And when the morn of peace broke through
+                  The battle's cloud and din,
+                He hailed with joy the promised land,
+                  He might now enter in.
+
+                He seemed as set by God apart,
+                  The winepress trod alone;
+                He stands forth an uncrowned king,
+                  A people's heart his throne.
+
+                Land of our loyal love and hope,
+                  O Land he died to save,
+                Bow down, renew today thy vows
+                  Beside his martyr grave!
+
+
+
+
+Charles Monroe Dickinson, born at Lowville, New York, November 15,
+1842. Educated at Fairfield (New York), Seminary and Lowville Academy.
+Admitted to the bar in 1865; practiced law in the State of
+Pennsylvania, at Binghamton, New York, and in New York City 1865-77,
+when he abandoned the profession because of broken health. Editor and
+proprietor of _Binghamton Republican_, 1878-1911. In 1892, upon his
+suggestion and initiative the various news organizations were combined
+into the present Associated Press. Presidential elector, 1896; United
+States Consul-General to Turkey, 1897-1906; Diplomatic agent to
+Bulgaria, 1901-1903. While acting in this capacity the American
+missionary, Ellen M. Stone, was carried off by brigands, but released
+through his settlement and efforts. Member board to draft regulations
+for government of American consular service 1906; American
+Consul-General at-large, 1906-October 1, 1908. Author of _History of
+Dickinson Family_, 1885; _The Children and Other Verses_, 1889; part
+of political history of State of New York, 1911.
+
+
+                          ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+                If any one hath doubt or fear
+                  That this is Freedom's chosen clime--
+                That God hath sown and planted here
+                  The richest harvest field of Time--
+                Let him take heart, throw off his fears,
+                As he looks back a hundred years.
+
+                Cities and fields and wealth untold,
+                  With equal rights before the law;
+                And, better than all lands and gold--
+                  Such as the old world never saw--
+                Freedom and peace, the right to be,
+                And honor to those who made us free.
+
+                Our greatness did not happen so,
+                  We owe it not to chance or fate;
+                In furnace heat, by blow on blow,
+                  Were forged the things that make us great;
+                And men still live who bore that heat,
+                And felt those deadly hammers beat.
+
+                Not in the pampered courts of kings,
+                  Not in the homes that rich men keep,
+                God calls His Davids with their slings,
+                  Or wakes His Samuels from their sleep;
+                But from the homes of toil and need
+                Calls those who serve as well as lead.
+
+                Such was the hero of our race;
+                  Skilled in the school of common things,
+                He felt the sweat on Labor's face,
+                  He knew the pinch of want, the sting
+                The bondman felt, and all the wrong
+                The weak had suffered from the strong.
+
+                God passed the waiting centuries by,
+                  And kept him for our time of need--
+                To lead us with his courage high--
+                  To make our country free indeed;
+                Then, that he be by none surpassed,
+                God crowned him martyr at the last.
+
+                Let speech and pen and song proclaim
+                  Our grateful praise this natal morn;
+                Time hath preserved no nobler name,
+                  And generations yet unborn
+                Shall swell the pride of those who can
+                Claim Lincoln as their countryman.
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: FORD'S THEATRE]
+
+
+The building is a plain brick structure, three stories high,
+seventy-one feet front and one hundred feet deep. It was originally
+constructed and occupied as a Baptist Church, but at the beginning of
+the war was converted into a theatre, though never used for that
+purpose after the assassination of Lincoln. The government purchased
+it for one hundred thousand dollars, and it is now used as a branch of
+the Record and Pension Division of the War Department. President
+Lincoln was shot by J. Wilkes Booth at 10.20 o'clock P.M. on the
+evening of April 14, 1865, while seated in his private box in the
+theatre.
+
+
+                        SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS!
+
+                        _By Robert Leighton_
+
+            "Sic semper tyrannis!" the assassin cried,
+            As Lincoln fell. O villain! who than he
+            More lived to set both slave and tyrant free?
+            Or so enrapt with plans of freedom died,
+            That even thy treacherous deed shall glance aside
+              And do the dead man's will by land and sea;
+              Win bloodless battles, and make that to be
+            Which to his living mandate was denied!
+            Peace to that gentle heart! The peace he sought
+              For all mankind, nor for it dies in vain.
+            Rest to the uncrowned king, who, toiling, brought
+              His bleeding country through that dreadful reign;
+            Who, living, earned a world's revering thought,
+              And, dying, leaves his name without a stain.
+
+           _Liverpool, England,
+               May 5, 1865_
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+                Foully assassinated, April 14, 1865]
+
+
+Tom Taylor wrote the following poem, which appeared in the _London
+Punch_, May 6, 1865. The engraving is a facsimile of the one published
+in the paper at the head of the poem.
+
+
+                ABRAHAM LINCOLN, FOULLY ASSASSINATED
+
+          You lay a wreath on murdered LINCOLN'S bier,
+            _You_, who with mocking pencil wont to trace,
+          Broad for self-complacent British sneer,
+            His length of shambling limb, his furrowed face,
+
+          His gaunt, gnarled hands, his unkempt, bristling hair,
+            His garb uncouth, his bearing ill at ease,
+          His lack of all we prize as debonair,
+            Of power or will to shine, of art to please,
+
+          _You_, whose smart pen backed up the pencil's laugh,
+            Judging each step, as though the way were plain:
+          Reckless, so it could point its paragraph,
+            Of chief's perplexity, or people's pain.
+
+          Beside this corpse, that bears for winding sheet
+            The Stars and Stripes, he lived to rear anew,
+          Between the mourners at his head and feet,
+            Say, scurrile-jester, is there room for _you_?
+
+          Yes, he had lived to shame me from my sneer,
+            To lame my pencil, and confute my pen--
+          To make me own this hind of princes peer,
+            This rail-splitter a true-born king of men.
+
+          My shallow judgment I had learnt to rue,
+            Noting how to occasion's height he rose,
+          How his quaint wit made home-truth seem more true,
+            How, iron-like, his temper grew by blows.
+
+          How humble, yet how hopeful he could be;
+            How in good fortune and in ill the same;
+          Nor bitter in success, nor boastful he,
+            Thirsty for gold, nor feverish for fame.
+
+          He went about his work--such work as few
+            Ever had laid on head and heart and hand--
+          As one who knows, where there's a task to do,
+            Man's honest will must Heaven's good grace command.
+
+          Who trusts the strength will with the burden grow,
+            That God makes instruments to work His will,
+          If but that will we can arrive to know,
+            Nor tamper with the weights of good and ill.
+
+          So he went forth to battle, on the side
+            That he felt clear was Liberty's and Right's,
+          As in his peasant boyhood he had plied
+            His warfare with rude Nature's thwarting mights--
+
+          The uncleared forest, the unbroken soil,
+            The iron-bark that turned the lumberer's axe,
+          The rapid, that o'erbears the boatmen's toil,
+            The prairie, hiding the mazed wanderer's tracks,
+
+          The ambushed Indian, and the prowling bear--
+            Such were the needs that helped his youth to train;
+          Rough culture--but such trees large fruit may bear,
+            If but their stocks be of right girth and grain.
+
+          So he grew up, a destined work to do,
+            And lived to do it--four long-suffering years;
+          Ill-fate, ill-feeling, ill-report, lived through,
+            And then he heard the hisses change to cheers,
+
+          The taunts to tribute, the abuse to praise,
+            And took both with the same unwavering mood;
+          Till, as he came on light from darking days,
+            And seemed to touch the goal from where he stood,
+
+          A felon hand, between the goal and him,
+            Reached from behind his back, a trigger prest,--
+          And those perplexed and patient eyes were dim,
+            Those gaunt, long-laboring limbs were laid to rest!
+
+          The words of mercy were upon his lips,
+            Forgiveness in his heart and on his pen,
+          When this vile murderer brought swift eclipse
+            To thoughts of peace on earth, good will to men.
+
+          The Old World and the New, from sea to sea,
+            Utter one voice of sympathy and shame!
+          Sore heart, so stopped when it at last beat high,
+            Sad life, cut short just as its triumph came.
+
+          A deed accurst! Strokes have been struck before
+            By the assassin's hand, whereof men doubt
+          If more of horror or disgrace they bore;
+            But thy foul crime, like CAIN'S stands darkly out.
+
+          Vile hand, that brandest murder on a strife,
+            Whate'er its grounds, stoutly and nobly striven;
+          And with the martyr's crown crownest a life
+            With much to praise, little to be forgiven!
+
+
+
+
+                [Illustration: DEATHBED OF LINCOLN]
+
+
+Immediately after the President was shot in Ford's Theatre he was
+carried across the street to the house of William Petersen and placed
+on a single bed in a room at the end of the hall. All through that
+weary night the watchers stood by the bedside. He was unconscious
+every moment from the time the bullet entered his head until Dr.
+Robert King Stone, the family physician, announced at twenty-two
+minutes after seven on the following morning that he had breathed his
+last (April 15, 1865). Upon this Secretary Edwin M. Stanton, Secretary
+of War, in a low voice said: "_Now He Belongs to the Ages_."
+
+
+                            THE DEATHBED
+
+  Silence falls, unbroken save by sobs of strong men
+  In that room, where Lincoln, at the morning hour's chime
+  Passed out into the unknown from the world of human ken.
+  Gone his body and his life work from the world inclosed by time;
+  But in the silence that was falling after breath of broken prayer,
+  Words eternal broke the quiet like a bell toll on the air;
+  Never in the world's wide story, wiser spoke nor Prophet, spoke nor
+      Sages,
+  Than these words that broke the silence: "He belongs now to the Ages!"
+
+  "To the Ages!" well you spoke it, Stanton of the massive mind!
+  He belongs, the years have shown it, to the world of human kind!
+  Heard his story, where'er hearts throb o'er the world's far spreading
+      way;
+  Heard his story, children listen at the closing of the day;
+  Heard his story, lovers speak it in their hushed and saddened tones
+  As they wander in the twilight, dreaming of their coming homes;
+  Heard his story, statesmen tell it, with a thrill of pride and truth;
+  Heard his story, old men speak it to the country's growing youth.
+  And the years have shown the Prophets, and the years have shown the
+      Sages;
+  Writ in fire these words of wisdom, "He belongs now to the Ages!"
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+                             President]
+
+
+                   [Illustration: EDWIN M. STANTON
+
+                          Secretary of War]
+
+
+Marion Mills Miller was born at Eaton, Ohio, February 27, 1864. He was
+graduated from Princeton in 1886, and for several years thereafter was
+an instructor there in the English department. In 1889 he received the
+degree of Doctor of Literature from his Alma Mater. Since 1893 he has
+been engaged in literary and social reform work in New York City. He
+has published some verse and fiction, but his most notable work has
+been in the fields of translation and history. He has edited _The
+Classics--Greek and Latin_ (15 volumes), published in 1909, and _Great
+Debates in American History_ (14 volumes), published in 1913.
+
+In 1907 he edited the Centenary Edition of _The Life and Works of
+Abraham Lincoln_ in 10 volumes, logically arranged for ready
+reference. The _Life of Lincoln_ was published separately in 1908 in
+two volumes. It is based on a manuscript by Henry C. Whitney, whose
+name it bears as author, although the second volume, _Lincoln, the
+President_, was largely written by Dr. Miller. The late Major William
+H. Lambert, president of the Lincoln Fellowship, called it "the best
+of the shorter biographies of Lincoln." Dr. Miller has also edited
+_The Wisdom of Lincoln_ (1908), a small book of extracts from
+Lincoln's speeches and writings. He wrote the following poem, "Lincoln
+and Stanton," especially for THE POETS' LINCOLN.
+
+The first reference in it is to the Manny-McCormick case over the
+patent rights of the reaping machine, in which Lincoln had been at
+first selected as principal pleader, but was superseded by Edwin M.
+Stanton. Having thoroughly prepared himself, he offered his assistance
+to Stanton, but was brusquely repulsed. He was so hurt that he felt
+like leaving the court room, but decided, in loyalty to his client, to
+remain, and, leaving his place among counsel, took a seat in the
+audience. Despite his injured feelings he was filled with admiration
+for Stanton's able and successful conduct of the case. Lincoln,
+probably referring to a slur of Stanton reported to him, said that he
+would have to go back to Illinois and "study more law," since the
+"college-bred" lawyers were pushing hard the "cornfield" ones.
+
+The second reference is to Stanton's criticism of Lincoln's
+conservative course during the first months of his Presidency; "that
+imbecile at the White House," he called him. Stanton as
+Attorney-General at the close of Buchanan's administration had done
+effective work in foiling the plans of the Confederacy, and he
+believed in forceful measures to put down the rebellion in its
+incipiency.
+
+The third reference is to the virtually enforced resignation of Simon
+Cameron, Lincoln's first Secretary of War, and Lincoln's choice to
+succeed him of Stanton, whom he realized to be the best equipped man
+in the country for the place.
+
+The fourth reference is to Stanton's remark by the bedside of Lincoln
+as the stricken President ceased breathing: "There lies the greatest
+leader of men the world ever saw."
+
+
+                        LINCOLN AND STANTON
+
+            Lincoln had cause one man alone to hate:
+              A fellow-lawyer, lacking in all grace,
+              Who cast uncalled-for insult in his face
+            When Lincoln as his colleague, with innate
+            Courtesy, proffered aid. With pride inflate
+              The scornful Stanton waved him to his place,
+              Snapping, "I need no help to try this case";
+            And "cornfield lawyer" muttered of his mate.
+
+            And when, as captain of the Union ship,
+              Lincoln drew sail before the gathering storm
+                Till favoring winds the shrouds unfurled should fill,
+            Stanton again curled his contemptuous lip
+              And, with the impatience of a patriot warm,
+                Sneered at the helmsman, "craven imbecile."
+
+            Laid was the course at length; the sails untried
+              Were spread; the raw crew set at spar and coil.
+              Now round the prow Charybdean waters boil
+            And ever higher surges war's red tide.
+            The mate who should the captain's care divide
+              Has strengthless proved. Where shall, the foe to foil,
+              A man be found able to bear the toil
+            And stand, to steer the ship, by Lincoln's side?
+
+            Stanton he called! The bitter choice he made
+              For country, not himself. The ship was driven
+                By the great twain through war's abyss, again
+            Into calm seas. Then Lincoln low was laid,
+              And Stanton paid him highest tribute given
+                To mortal: "Mightiest leader among men!"
+
+
+
+
+                [Illustration: THE DEATH OF LINCOLN
+
+   1 President Lincoln. 2 Hon. Gideon Welles, Secretary of the
+   Navy. 3 John Hay, Esq., President's Private Secretary. 4 Hon.
+   E. M. Stanton, Secretary of War. 5 Rev. Dr. Gurley. 6 Gen.
+   Farnsworth, M. C. from Illinois. 7 Governor Ogilsby of Illinois.
+   8 General Todd. 9 Rufus Andrews, Esq. 10 Hon. W. T. Otto,
+   Assistant Secretary of the Interior. 11 Hon. W. Denison,
+   Postmaster-General. 12 Judge D. K. Carter. 13 Major-General
+   Halleck. 14 Captain Robert Lincoln. 15 Dr. Leale. 16 Hon. Charles
+   Sumner. 17 Dr. Crane, Assistant Surgeon-General. 18 Governor
+   Farwell, of Wisconsin. 19 Hon. J. P. Usher, Secretary of the
+   Interior. 20 Major-General Augur. 21 Major-General Meigs. 22
+   Maunsel B. Field, Esq. 23 Hon. Schuyler Colfax. 24 Hon. James
+   Speed, Attorney-General. 25 Hon. H. McCullough, Secretary of the
+   Treasury 26 Dr. R. K. Stone. 27 Surgeon-General Barnes.]
+
+
+
+
+             [Illustration: HOUSE IN WHICH LINCOLN DIED
+
+                         Washington, D. C.]
+
+
+           [Illustration: JOSEPHINE OLDROYD TIEFENTHALER
+
+            Born July 17, 1896. Died February 20, 1908]
+
+
+Robert Mackay and his wife visited this historic house in 1902. They
+were met at the door and escorted through the various rooms containing
+the Collection by Little Josephine, and were deeply impressed at the
+knowledge she exhibited of Lincoln and the Collection, although she
+was but six years of age. Mr. Mackay was born at Virginia City,
+Nevada, April 22, 1871. Reporter _San Francisco Chronicle_, 1886.
+Worked on newspapers as printer, reporter and editor until 1895, when
+he traveled extensively over the world for the International News
+Syndicate; joined staff of the _New York World_ in 1899; managing
+editor of _Success Magazine_, 1900-1908. Editor the _Delineator_,
+1908. Joined editorial department of the Frank A. Munsey Company in
+1909, contributor of short stories, also other prose and verse.
+
+
+                    THE HOUSE WHERE LINCOLN DIED
+
+             Above Judea's purple-mantled plain,
+               There hovers still, among the ruins lone,
+               The spirit of the Christ whose dying moan
+             Was heard in heaven, and paid our debt in pain.
+
+             As subtle perfume lingers with the rose,
+               Even when its petals flutter to the earth,
+               So clings the potent mystery of the birth
+             Of that deep love from which all mercy flows.
+
+                    .       .       .       .       .
+
+             Within this house,--this room,--a martyr died,
+               A prophet of a larger liberty,--
+               A liberator setting bondmen free,
+             A full-orbed MAN, above mere mortal pride.
+
+             The cloud-rifts opening to celestial glades,
+               Oft glimpse him, and his spirit lingers still,
+               As Christ's sweet influence broods upon the hill
+             Where the red lily with the sunset fades.
+
+                    .       .       .       .       .
+
+             A little girl with eyes of heavenly blue,
+               Sings through the old place, ignorant of all;
+               Her angel face, her cheerful, birdlike call
+             Thrilling the heart to life more full, more true.
+
+
+
+
+                        IN TOKEN OF RESPECT
+
+                  _Translation from Latin verses_
+
+
+               From humble parentage and low degree
+                 Lincoln ascended to the highest rank;
+               None ever had a harder task than he,
+                 It was perfected--him alone we thank.
+
+               Did the assassin think to kill a name,
+                 Or hand his own down to posterity?
+               One will wear the laurel wreath of fame,
+                 The other be condemned to infamy.
+
+               Caesar was killed by Brutus,
+                 Yet Rome did not cease to be;
+               Lincoln by Booth, and yet the slaves
+                 In all America are free!
+
+            Rieti, France, May, 1865
+
+
+
+
+                          ENGLAND'S SORROW
+
+                         _From London Fun_
+
+
+            The hand of an Assassin, glowing red,
+              Shot like a firebrand through the western sky;
+            And stalwart Abraham Lincoln now is dead!
+              O! felon heart that thus could basely dye
+            The name of southerner with murderous gore!
+              Could such a spirit come from mortal womb?
+            And what possessed it that not heretofore
+              It linked its coward mission with the tomb?
+            Lincoln! thy fame shall sound through many an age,
+              To prove that genius lives in humble birth;
+            Thy name shall sound upon historic page,
+              For 'midst thy faults we all esteemed thy worth.
+
+            Gone art thou now! no more 'midst angry heat
+              Shall thy calm spirit rule the surging tide,
+            Which rolls where two contending nations meet,
+              To still the passion and to curb the pride.
+            Nations have looked and seen the fate of kings,
+              Protectors, emperors, and such like men;
+            Behold the man whose dirge all Europe sings,
+              Now past the eulogy of mortal pen!
+            He, like a lighthouse, fell athwart the strand;
+              Let curses rest upon the assassin's hand.
+
+
+
+
+               [Illustration: THE FUNERAL OF LINCOLN
+
+   Ceremonies in the East Room of the White House, April 19, 1865]
+
+
+At ten minutes after twelve o'clock Rev. Charles H. Hall, of the
+Church of the Epiphany, opened the service by reading from the
+Episcopal Burial Service for the Dead. Bishop Matthew Simpson of the
+Methodist Church then offered prayer, and the Rev. Dr. Phineas D.
+Gurley, pastor of the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church, at which
+Mr. Lincoln and his family attended, delivered a sermon. The Rev. E.
+H. Gray, D.D., of the E Street Baptist Church, closed the solemn
+service with prayer.
+
+
+Phineas Densmore Gurley, born at Hamilton, New York, 1816. Educated at
+Union College, Schenectady, New York. Taught during vacation,
+graduated 1837. Studied theology at the Theological Seminary,
+Princeton, New Jersey. Was licensed to preach in 1840. In 1840 he went
+to Indianapolis, Indiana, and took charge of a church. In 1849 he
+removed to Dayton, Ohio, taking charge of a church, and in 1853 moved
+to Washington, D. C., and took charge of a Presbyterian Church on F
+Street, afterwards Willard Hall. In 1858 was elected Chaplain of the
+United States Senate. In July, 1859, the Second Presbyterian Church
+and the F Street Church united, and were known as the New York Avenue
+Presbyterian Church, Dr. Gurley becoming its pastor from March, 1861,
+until his death. President Lincoln was a pew holder and a regular
+attendant, but was not a member. On one occasion the President
+remarked, "I like Dr. Gurley, he doesn't preach politics. I get enough
+of that during the week, and when I go to church I like to hear
+gospel."
+
+When the President was assassinated Dr. Gurley was sent for and
+remained with the President until he breathed his last.
+
+As soon as the spirit took its flight, Secretary Stanton turned to Dr.
+Gurley and said, "Doctor, will you say something?" After a brief
+pause, Dr. Gurley said, "Let us talk with God," and offered a touching
+prayer. Dr. Gurley died September 30, 1868.
+
+
+                    THE FUNERAL HYMN OF LINCOLN
+
+                 Rest, noble martyr! rest in peace;
+                   Rest with the true and brave,
+                 Who, like thee, fell in freedom's cause,
+                   The nation's life to save.
+
+                 Thy name shall live while time endures,
+                   And men shall say of thee,
+                 "He saved his country from its foes,
+                   And bade the slave be free."
+
+                 These deeds shall be thy monument,
+                   Better than brass or stone;
+                 They leave thy fame in glory's light,
+                   Unrival'd and alone.
+
+                 This consecrated spot shall be
+                   To freedom ever dear;
+                 And freedom's sons of every race
+                   Shall weep and worship here.
+
+                 O God! before whom we, in tears,
+                   Our fallen chief deplore,
+                 Grant that the cause for which he died
+                   May live forevermore.
+
+
+
+
+Harriet McEwen Kimball, born at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, November,
+1834. Educated there; specially known as a religious poet, although
+she has written much secular verse; chief founder of the Portsmouth
+Cottage Hospital. Author hymns, _Swallow Flights_; _Blessed Company of
+All Faithful People_; _Poems_ (complete edition), 1889.
+
+
+                         REST, REST FOR HIM
+
+             Rest, rest for him whose noble work is done;
+               For him who led us gently, unaware,
+               Till we were readier to do and dare
+             For Freedom, and her hundred fields were won.
+
+             His march is ended where his march began;
+               More sweet his sleep for toil and sacrifice,
+               And that rare wisdom whose beginning lies
+             In fear of God, and charity for man;
+
+             And sweetest for the tender faith that grew
+               More strong in trial, and through doubt more clear,
+               Seeing in clouds and darkness One appear
+             In whose dread name the Nation's sword he drew.
+
+             Rest, rest for him; and rest for us today
+               Whose sorrow shook the land from east to west
+               When slain by treason on the Nation's breast
+             Her martyr breathed his steadfast soul away.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: THE FUNERAL CAR]
+
+
+This car bore the remains of the Martyr President to his home in
+Springfield, Illinois, where they were laid to rest. The funeral train
+left Washington, D. C., on the 21st of April, 1865, proceeded from
+that city to Baltimore, Maryland; Harrisburg and Philadelphia,
+Pennsylvania; New York City, Albany and Buffalo, New York; Cleveland
+and Columbus, Ohio; Indianapolis, Indiana; Chicago, Illinois; and
+finally to Springfield, reaching the latter place May 3, where the
+last sad rites were performed on the succeeding day. The body lay in
+state in all the above cities, brief stops being also made in many
+smaller places.
+
+
+Richard Henry Stoddard in the following Horatian Ode made a beautiful
+analysis of the Martyr President's character, with a magnificent
+picture of the nation's tribute of mourning for its dead chief:
+
+
+                     THE FUNERAL CAR OF LINCOLN
+
+                Peace! Let the long procession come,
+                For, hark!--the mournful, muffled drum--
+                The trumpet's wail afar--
+                And, see! the awful car!
+
+                Peace! let the sad procession go,
+                While cannon boom, and bells toll slow:
+                And go, thou sacred car,
+                Bearing our Woe afar!
+
+                Go, darkly borne, from State to State,
+                Whose loyal, sorrowing cities wait
+                To honor all they can
+                The dust of that good man!
+
+                Go, grandly borne, with such a train
+                As greatest kings might die to gain;
+                The Just, the Wise, the Brave
+                Attend thee to the grave!
+
+                And you the soldiers of our wars,
+                Bronzed veterans, grim with noble scars,
+                Salute him once again,
+                Your late Commander--slain!
+
+                Yes, let your tears, indignant, fall,
+                And leave your muskets on the wall;
+                Your country needs you now
+                Beside the forge, the plow!
+
+                (When Justice shall unsheathe her brand--
+                If Mercy may not stay her hand,
+                Nor would we have it so--
+                She must direct the blow!)
+
+                So, sweetly, sadly, sternly goes
+                The Fallen to his last repose;
+                Beneath no mighty dome,
+                But in his modest Home!
+
+                The churchyard where his children rest,
+                The quiet spot that suits him best;
+                There shall his grave be made,
+                And there his bones be laid!
+
+                And there his countrymen shall come,
+                With memory proud, with pity dumb,
+                And strangers far and near,
+                For many and many a year!
+
+                For many a year, and many an age,
+                With History on her ample page
+                The virtues shall enroll
+                Of that Paternal Soul.
+
+
+
+
+William Cullen Bryant, born in Cummington, Massachusetts, November 3,
+1794. Died in New York, June 12, 1878. He wrote verses in his twelfth
+year to be recited at school. Spent two years at Williams College and
+at the age of eighteen began the study of law. He depended upon his
+profession for a number of years, although it was not to his liking.
+His contributions to the _North American Review_ and his poems
+published therein gained him an enviable reputation, and reflected
+great credit upon him.
+
+
+                        THE DEATH OF LINCOLN
+
+                Oh, slow to smite and swift to spare,
+                  Gentle and merciful and just!
+                Who, in the fear of God didst bear
+                  The sword of power, a nation's trust.
+
+                In sorrow by thy bier we stand,
+                  Amid the awe that hushes all,
+                And speak the anguish of a land
+                  That shook with horror at thy fall.
+
+                Thy task is done; the bond is free--
+                  We bear thee to an honored grave,
+                Whose noblest monument shall be
+                  The broken fetters of the slave.
+
+                Pure was thy life; its bloody close
+                  Hath placed thee with the sons of light
+                Among the noble host of those
+                  Who perished in the cause of right.
+
+
+
+
+             [Illustration: CITY HALL, NEW YORK, N. Y.]
+
+
+At the time of the appearance of the procession at the City Hall at
+least twenty thousand persons were assembled in the immediate
+neighborhood. While awaiting the arrival of the procession a number of
+German singing bands were marched into the open space before the Hall,
+and arranged on either side of the entrance, preparatory to the
+singing of a requiem to the dead. The procession entered the Park at
+about half-past eleven o'clock, and the hearse stopped before the
+entrance to the Hall. Here the coffin was immediately taken from the
+hearse and carried up the stairs to the catafalque which had been
+prepared for its reception, while the singing societies rendered two
+very appropriate dirges.
+
+The interior of the City Hall had been decorated with much taste.
+Across the dome a black curtain was drawn, and the rays of light thus
+conducted fell subdued upon the sad but imposing spectacle.
+
+
+
+
+Henry T. Tuckerman, a member of the Committee on Resolutions, wrote
+the following ode for the funeral obsequies, on the 25th day of April,
+1865, at New York City. The Athenaeum Club participated, bearing an
+appropriate banner, the members wearing distinctive badges of mourning
+and under the leadership of their Vice-President, Henry E. Pierpont;
+the President, William T. Blodgett, being at that time absent acting
+as Chairman of the Citizens Committee:
+
+
+                                ODE
+
+                Shroud the banner! rear the cross!
+                Consecrate a nation's loss;
+                Gaze on that majestic sleep;
+                Stand beside the bier to weep;
+                Lay the gentle son of toil
+                Proudly in his native soil;
+                Crowned with honor, to his rest
+                Bear the prophet of the West.
+
+                How cold the brow that yet doth wear
+                The impress of a nation's care;
+                How still the heart, whose every beat
+                Glowed with compassion's sacred heat;
+                Rigid the lips, whose patient smile
+                Duty's stern task would oft beguile;
+                Blood-quenched the pensive eye's soft light;
+                Nerveless the hand so loth to smite;
+                So meek in rule, it leads, though dead,
+                The people as in life it led.
+
+                O let his wise and guileless sway
+                Win every recreant today,
+                And sorrow's vast and holy wave
+                Blend all our hearts around his grave!
+                Let the faithful bondmen's tears,
+                Let the traitor's craven fears,
+                And the people's grief and pride,
+                Plead against the parricide!
+                Let us throng to pledge and pray
+                O'er the patriot martyr's clay;
+                Then, with solemn faith in right,
+                That made him victor in the fight,
+                Cling to the path he fearless trod,
+                Still radiant with the smile of God.
+
+                Shroud the banner! rear the cross!
+                Consecrate a nation's loss;
+                Gaze on that majestic sleep;
+                Stand beside the bier to weep;
+                Lay the gentle son of toil
+                Proudly in his native soil;
+                Crowned with honor, to his rest
+                Bear the prophet of the West.
+
+
+
+
+Lucy Larcom was born in Beverly, Mass., in 1826. At the age of seven
+years she wrote stories and poems. She spent three years in school,
+then worked in the cotton mills. Some of her writings attracted the
+attention of Whittier, from whom she received encouragement. At the
+age of twenty she went to Illinois and there taught school for some
+time, and for three years studied in Monticello Female Seminary. She
+returned to Massachusetts and during the war wrote many patriotic
+poems.
+
+
+                              TOLLING
+
+                    Tolling, tolling, tolling!
+                      All the bells of the land!
+                    Lo, the patriot martyr
+                      Taketh his journey grand!
+                    Travels into the ages,
+                      Bearing a hope how dear!
+                    Into life's unknown vistas,
+                      Liberty's great pioneer.
+
+                    Tolling, tolling, tolling!
+                      See, they come as a cloud,
+                    Hearts of a mighty people,
+                      Bearing his pall and shroud;
+                    Lifting up, like a banner,
+                      Signals of loss and woe;
+                    Wonder of breathless nations,
+                      Moveth the solemn show.
+
+                    Tolling, tolling, tolling!
+                      Was it, O man beloved,
+                    Was it thy funeral only
+                      Over the land that moved?
+
+
+
+
+        [Illustration: ROTUNDA, CITY HALL, NEW YORK, N. Y.]
+
+
+The remains of President Lincoln lay in state in the City Hall, New
+York, from noon April 24 to noon April 25, 1865. Visitors were
+admitted to view the remains, passing through the Hall two abreast.
+Singing societies sang dirges in the rotunda the night through.
+
+
+
+
+Richard Storrs Willis was born in Boston, Massachusetts, February 10,
+1819, was graduated at Yale in 1841, and adopted literature as his
+profession. He has published musical and other poems; has edited the
+_New York Musical World_ and _Once a Week_, and contributed also to
+current literature. He wrote the following:
+
+
+                         REQUIEM OF LINCOLN
+
+                Now wake the requiem's solemn moan,
+                For him whose patriot task is done!
+                A nation's heart stands still today
+                With horror, o'er his martyred clay!
+
+                O, God of Peace, repress the ire,
+                Which fills our souls with vengeful fire!
+                Vengeance is Thine--and sovereign might,
+                Alone, can such a crime requite!
+
+                Farewell, thou good and guileless heart!
+                The manliest tears for thee must start!
+                E'en those at times who blamed thee here,
+                Now deeply sorrow o'er thy bier.
+
+                O, Jesus, grant him sweet repose,
+                Who, like Thee, seemed to love his foes!
+                Those foes, like Thine, their wrath to spend,
+                Have slain their best, their firmest friend.
+
+
+
+
+           [Illustration: ST. JAMES HALL, BUFFALO, N. Y.]
+
+
+The funeral train bearing the remains of President Lincoln reached
+Buffalo, New York, on Thursday morning, the 27th of April. The body
+was taken from the funeral car and borne by soldiers up to St. James'
+Hall, where it was placed under a crape canopy, extending from the
+ceiling to the floor. The Buffalo St. Cecilia Society sang with deep
+pathos the dirge "Rest, Spirit, Rest," the society then placed an
+elegantly formed harp, made of choice white flowers, at the head of
+the coffin, as a tribute from them to the honored dead. The public
+were admitted to view the remains, and the following day the remains
+reached Cleveland, Ohio.
+
+
+
+
+James Nicoll Johnston was born in Ardee, County Donegal, Ireland. When
+two years of age the family moved to Cashelmore, Sheephaven Bay,
+County Donegal. In 1847 they moved to America. He was then between
+fifteen and sixteen years of age. In 1848 they settled at Buffalo,
+New York, which has been his home until the present time.
+
+He has published two editions of _Donegal Memories_, also two editions
+of _Donegal Memories and Other Poems_, and a volume of Buffalo verse
+collected by him under the title of _Poets and Poetry of Buffalo_. He
+assisted in collections of Buffalo local literature, also devoted much
+time to the production of publications of a philanthropic nature.
+
+
+                              REQUIEM
+
+                  Bear him to his Western home,
+                    Whence he came four years ago;
+                  Not beneath some Eastern dome,
+                  But where Freedom's airs may come,
+                    Where the prairie grasses grow,
+                    To the friends who loved him so,
+
+                  Take him to his quiet rest;
+                    Toll the bell and fire the gun;
+                  He who served his Country best,
+                  He whom millions loved and bless'd,
+                    Now has fame immortal won;
+                    Rack of brain and heart is done.
+
+                  Shed thy tears, O April rain,
+                    O'er the tomb wherein he sleeps!
+                  Wash away the bloody stain!
+                  Drape the skies in grief, O rain!
+                    Lo! a nation with thee weeps,
+                  Grieving o'er her martyred slain.
+
+                  To the people whence he came,
+                    Bear him gently back again,
+                  Greater his than victor's fame:
+                  His is now a sainted name;
+                    Never ruler had such gain--
+                    Never people had such pain.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN
+
+                 Photograph taken in 1863 by Brady]
+
+
+
+
+Oliver Wendell Holmes, born in Cambridge, Mass., August 29, 1809. To
+him belongs the credit of saving the frigate Constitution from
+destruction, by a poem--_Aye, Tear the Battered Ensign Down_. He died
+August 7, 1894.
+
+
+               SERVICES IN MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+                  (_City of Boston, June 1, 1865_)
+
+
+                O Thou of soul and sense and breath,
+                  The ever-present Giver,
+                Unto Thy mighty angel, death,
+                  All flesh Thou didst deliver;
+                What most we cherish, we resign,
+                For life and death alike are Thine,
+                  Who reignest Lord forever!
+
+                Our hearts lie buried in the dust
+                  With him, so true and tender,
+                The patriot's stay, the people's trust,
+                  The shield of the offender;
+                Yet every murmuring voice is still,
+                As, bowing to Thy sovereign will,
+                  Our best loved we surrender.
+
+                Dear Lord, with pitying eye behold
+                  This martyr generation,
+                Which Thou, through trials manifold,
+                  Art showing Thy salvation!
+                O let the blood by murder spilt
+                Wash out Thy stricken children's guilt,
+                  And sanctify our Nation!
+
+                Be Thou Thy orphaned Israel's friend,
+                  Forsake Thy people never,
+                In one our broken many blend,
+                  That none again may sever!
+                Hear us, O Father, while we raise
+                With trembling lips our song of praise,
+                  And bless Thy name forever!
+
+
+
+
+           [Illustration: LINCOLN HOMESTEAD, MAY 4, 1865
+
+   Photographed by F. W. Ingmire on the day of the funeral, with the
+   members of the National Committee appointed to accompany the
+   remains to Springfield, Illinois.
+
+   Members on the pavement: Left (1) Hon. Schuyler Colfax, Speaker
+   of the House; (2) Hon. R. C. Schenck, Ohio; (3) Hon. Lyman
+   Trumbull, Illinois; (4) Hon. Charles E. Phelps, Maryland; (5)
+   Hon. W. H. Wallace, Idaho; (6) Hon. Joseph Baily, Pennsylvania;
+   (7) Hon. James K. Morehead, Pennsylvania; (8) Hon. Sidney Clarke,
+   Kansas; (9) Hon. Samuel Hooper, Massachusetts; (10) Hon. E. B.
+   Washburn, Illinois; (11) Hon. Thomas W. Ferry, Michigan; (12)
+   Hon. Thomas B. Shannon, California; (13) S. G. Ordway,
+   Sergeant-at-Arms of the House.
+
+   Members in the yard: Left (1) Hon. Isaac N. Arnold, Illinois; (2)
+   Hon. John B. Henderson, Missouri; (3) Hen. Richard Yates,
+   Illinois; (4) Hon. James W. Nye, Nevada; (5) Hon. Henry S. Lane,
+   Indiana; (6) Hon. George H. Williams, Oregon; (7) Hon. George T.
+   Brown, Sergeant-at-Arms of the Senate; (8) Hon. William A.
+   Newell, New Jersey.]
+
+
+
+
+William Allen, D.D., born 1784, died 1868. Graduated at Harvard, 1802.
+President Dartmouth College, 1816-1819, Bowdoin College, 1820-1839. He
+was the father of American Biography, published various volumes of
+poems; as a philologist, he contributed many thousands of words and
+definitions to Webster and Worcester's dictionaries. He was leader of
+the American delegation to the National Peace Congress at Versailles
+in 1849.
+
+
+                  SPRINGFIELD'S WELCOME TO LINCOLN
+
+                Lincoln! thy country's father, hail!
+                We bid thee welcome, but bewail;
+                Welcome unto thy chosen home--
+                Triumphant, glorious, dost thou come.
+
+                Before the enemy struck the blow
+                That laid thee in a moment low,
+                God gave thy wish: It was to see
+                Our Union safe, our country free.
+
+                A country where the gospel truth
+                Shall reach the hearts of age and youth,
+                And move unchained, in majesty,
+                A model land of liberty!
+
+                When Jacob's bones, from Egypt borne,
+                Regained their home, the people mourn;
+                Great mourning then at Ephron's cave,
+                Both Abraham's and Isaac's grave.
+
+                Far greater is the mourning now;
+                For our land one emblem wide of woe;
+                And where thy coffin car appears
+                Do not the people throng in tears?
+
+                Thy triumph of a thousand miles,
+                Like eastern conqueror with his spoils--
+                A million hearts thy captives led,
+                All weeping for their chieftain dead.
+
+                Thy chariot, moved with eagle speed
+                Without the aid of prancing steed,
+                Has brought thee to that destined tomb;
+                Springfield, thy home, will give thee room.
+
+                Lincoln, the martyr, welcome home!
+                What lessons blossom on thy tomb!
+                In God's pure truth and law delight;
+                With firm, unwavering soul do right.
+
+                Be condescending, kind and just;
+                In God's wise counsels put thy trust;
+                Let no proud soul e'er dare rebel,
+                Moved by vile passions sprung from hell.
+
+                Come, sleep with us in sweet repose,
+                Till we, as Christ from death arose,
+                Still in His glorious image rise
+                To dwell with him beyond the skies.
+
+
+
+
+           [Illustration: STATE CAPITOL, ILLINOIS, 1865]
+
+
+The body of the President lay in state in the Capitol, Springfield,
+Illinois--which was very richly draped--from May 3 to May 4, when it
+was removed to Oak Ridge Cemetery.
+
+
+
+
+Lucy Hamilton Hooper, born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, January 20,
+1835. In conjunction with Charles G. Leland she edited _Our Daily
+Fare_, the daily chronicle of the Philadelphia Sanitary Fair in 1864.
+She was assistant editor of _Lippincott's Magazine_ from its
+foundation until she went to Europe in 1870. In 1874 she settled in
+Paris and since has been correspondent for various journals in this
+country. She has published _Poems, with Translations from the German_
+(Philadelphia, 1864), another volume of _Poems_ (1871); a translation
+of _Le Nabob_, by Alphonse Daudet (Boston, 1879); and _Under the
+Tricolor_, a novel (Philadelphia, 1880). She died August 31, 1893.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+             There is a shadow on the sunny air,
+               There is a darkness o'er the April day,
+             We bow our heads beneath this awful cloud
+               So sudden come, and not to pass away.
+
+             O the wild grief that sweeps across our land
+               From frozen Maine to Californian shore!
+             A people's tears, an orphaned nation's wail,
+               For him the good, the great, who is no more.
+
+             The noblest brain that ever toiled for man,
+               The kindest heart that ever thrilled a breast,
+             The lofty soul unstained by soil of earth,
+               Sent by a traitor to a martyr's rest.
+
+             And his last act (O gentle, kindly heart!)
+               The noble prompting of unselfish grace.
+             He would not disappoint the waiting crowd
+               Who came to gaze upon his honored face.
+
+             O God, thy ways are just, and yet we find
+               This dispensation hard to understand.
+             Why must our Prophet's weary feet be stay'd
+               Upon the borders of the Promised Land?
+
+             He bore the heat, the burden of the day,
+               The golden eventide he shall not see;
+             He shall not see the old flag wave again
+               Over a land united, saved, and free.
+
+             He loved his people, and he ever lent
+               To all our griefs a sympathizing ear;
+             Now for the first time in these four sad years
+               The stricken nation wails--he does not hear.
+
+             O never wept a land a nobler Chief!
+               Kind heart, strong hand, true soul--yet, while we weep
+             Let us remember, e'en amid our tears,
+               'Tis God who gives to his beloved sleep.
+
+             So sleeps he now, the chosen man of God,
+               No more shall care or sorrow wring his breast;
+             The weary one and heavy laden, lies
+               Hushed by the voice of God to endless rest.
+
+             We need no solemn knell, no tolling bells,
+               No chanted dirge, no vain words sadly said.
+             The saddest knell that ever stirred the air
+               Rang in those words, "Our President is dead!"
+
+
+
+
+  [Illustration: PUBLIC VAULT, OAK RIDGE CEMETERY, SPRINGFIELD, ILL.,
+
+                  On the day of Lincoln's funeral]
+
+
+The remains of President Lincoln were deposited in this receiving
+vault of Oak Ridge Cemetery, Springfield, Illinois, on the 4th of May,
+1865, where they remained until December 21, 1865, when they were
+removed to a temporary vault near the site of the public one. On
+September 19, 1871, the remains were removed to the monument which had
+been erected and which stands on the top of the hill in that cemetery
+back of the public vault. The remains of Mrs. Lincoln, Willie and
+Thomas (Tad), are also resting there.
+
+
+
+
+                      LET THE PRESIDENT SLEEP
+
+                       _By James M. Stewart_
+
+
+      Let the President sleep! all his duty is done,
+      He has lived for our glory, the triumph is won;
+      At the close of the fight, like a warrior brave,
+      He retires from the field to the rest of the grave.
+      Hush the roll of the drum, hush the cannon's loud roar,
+      He will guide us to peace through the battle no more;
+      But new freedom shall dawn from the place of his rest,
+      Where the star has gone down in the beautiful West.
+      Tread lightly, breathe softly, and gratefully bring
+      To the sod that enfolds him the first flowers of spring;
+      They will tenderly treasure the tears that we weep
+      O'er the grave of our chief--let the President sleep.
+
+      Let the President sleep--tears will hallow the ground,
+      Where we raise o'er his ashes the sheltering mound,
+      And his spirit will sometimes return from above,
+      There to mingle with ours in ineffable love.
+      Peace to thee, noble dead, thou hast battled for right,
+      And hast won high reward from the Father of Light;
+      Peace to thee, martyr-hero, and sweet be thy rest,
+      Where the sunlight fades out in the beautiful West.
+      Tread lightly, breathe softly, and gratefully bring
+      To the sod that enfolds him the first flowers of spring;
+      They will tenderly treasure the tears that we weep
+      O'er the grave of our chief--let the President sleep!
+
+
+
+
+               [Illustration: FACADE OF PUBLIC VAULT
+
+    Oak Ridge Cemetery, Springfield, Illinois, in which the body
+                of Lincoln was placed, May 4, 1865]
+
+
+
+
+James Mackay, born in New York, April 8, 1872. Author of _The Economy
+of Happiness_, _The Politics of Utility_, and of various lectures on
+Scientific Ethics, etc.
+
+
+                      THE CENOTAPH OF LINCOLN
+
+          And so they buried Lincoln? Strange and vain
+          Has any creature thought of Lincoln hid
+          In any vault 'neath any coffin lid,
+          In all the years since that wild spring of pain?
+          'Tis false--he never in the grave hath lain.
+          You could not bury him although you slid
+          Upon his clay the Cheops Pyramid,
+          Or heaped it with the Rocky Mountain chain.
+          They slew themselves;--they but set Lincoln free.
+          In all the earth his great heart beats as strong,
+          Shall beat while pulses throb to chivalry,
+          And burn with hate of tyranny and wrong.
+          Whoever will may find him, anywhere
+          Save in the tomb. Not there--he is not there.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: LINCOLN MONUMENT
+
+         Springfield, Illinois, Larken G. Mead, Architect]
+
+
+A movement was started shortly after the burial of Lincoln to raise
+funds sufficient to build a monument over his grave. Contributions
+were made by various States and societies, and about sixty thousand
+Sunday-school scholars contributed the sum of eighteen thousand
+dollars. Ground was broken on the 9th of September, 1869, and the
+monument was dedicated on the 15th of October, 1874, at a total cost
+of two hundred and thirty thousand dollars.
+
+
+
+
+James Judson Lord, born at Berwick, Maine, in 1821. He had the
+advantage of an excellent early education followed by years of
+research. During his preparatory studies at Cambridge he met
+Longfellow, who loaned him books from his own library. For a time he
+studied art under prominent masters, but his health failing, after a
+time of forced leisure he went into the mercantile business in Boston,
+which vocation he afterward followed. In 1851 he went to Illinois;
+finally, after his marriage, settling in Springfield. There he knew
+Mr. Lincoln, with whom he was on terms of closest friendship.
+
+The poem submitted by Mr. Lord was selected for reading at the
+dedication of the National Lincoln Monument in a competition which
+brought contributions from many leading poets.
+
+He was the author of several dramas, and from time to time contributed
+poems to leading magazines and newspapers of the country. He died
+January 3, 1905.
+
+
+                          DEDICATION POEM
+
+        _Read by Richard Edwards, LL.D., President Illinois
+         State Normal University at Bloomington, Illinois_
+
+             We build not here a temple or a shrine,
+             Nor hero-fane to demigods divine;
+             Nor to the clouds a superstructure rear
+             For man's ambition or for servile fear.
+             Not to the Dust, but to the Deeds alone
+             A grateful people raise th' historic stone;
+             For where a patriot lived, or hero fell,
+             The daisied turf would mark the spot as well.
+
+             What though the Pyramids, with apex high,
+             Like Alpine peaks cleave Egypt's rainless sky,
+             And cast grim shadows o'er a desert land
+             Forever blighted by oppression's hand?
+             No patriot zeal their deep foundations laid--
+             No freeman's hand their darken'd chambers made--
+             No public weal inspired the heart with love,
+             To see their summits towering high above.
+             The ruling Pharaoh, proud and gory-stained,
+             With vain ambitions never yet attained;--
+             With brow enclouded as his marble throne,
+             And heart unyielding as the building stone;--
+             Sought with the scourge to make mankind his slaves,
+             And heaven's free sunlight darker than their graves.
+             His but to will, and theirs to yield and feel,
+             Like vermin'd dust beneath his iron heel;--
+             Denies all mercy, and all right offends,
+             Till on his head th' avenging Plague descends.
+
+             Historic justice bids the nations know
+             That through each land of slaves a Nile of blood
+                 shall flow:
+             And Vendome Columns, on a people thrust,
+             Are, by the people, level'd with the dust.
+
+             Nor stone, nor bronze, can fit memorials yield
+             For deeds of valor on the bloody field,
+             'Neath war's dark clouds the sturdy volunteer,
+             By freedom taught his country to revere,
+             Bids home and friends a hasty, sad adieu,
+             And treads where dangers all his steps pursue;
+             Finds cold and famine on his dauntless way,
+             And with mute patience brooks the long delay,
+             Or hears the trumpet, or the thrilling drum
+             Peal the long roll that calls: "They come! they come!"
+             Then to the front with battling hosts he flies,
+             And lives to triumph, or for freedom dies.
+             Thund'ring amain along the rocky strand,
+             The Ocean claims her honors with the Land.
+             Loud on the gale she chimes the wild refrain,
+             Or with low murmur wails her heroes slain!
+             In gory hulks, with splinter'd mast and spar,
+             Rocks on her stormy breast the valiant Tar:--
+             Lash'd to the mast he gives the high command,
+             Or midst the fight, sinks with the _Cumberland_.
+
+             Beloved banner of the azure sky,
+             Thy rightful home where'er thy eagles fly;
+             On thy blue field the stars of heav'n descend,
+             And to our day a purer luster lend.
+             O, Righteous God! who guard'st the right alway,
+             And bade Thy peace to come, "and come to stay":
+             And while war's deluge fill'd the land with blood,
+             With bow of promise arch'd the crimson flood,--
+             From fratricidal strife our banner screen,
+             And let it float henceforth in skies serene.
+
+             Yet cunning art shall here her triumphs bring,
+             And laurel'd bards their choicest anthems sing.
+             Here, honor'd age shall bare its wintery brow,
+             And youth to freedom make a Spartan vow.
+             Here, ripened manhood from its walks profound,
+             Shall come and halt, as if on hallow'd ground.
+
+             Here shall the urn with fragrant wreaths be drest,
+             By tender hands the flow'ry tributes prest;
+             And wending westward, from oppressions far,
+             Shall pilgrims come, led by our freedom-star;
+             While bending lowly, as o'er friendly pall,
+             The silent tear from ebon cheeks shall fall.
+
+             Sterile and vain the tributes which we pay--
+             It is the Past that consecrates today
+             The spot where rests one of the noble few
+             Who saw the right, and dared the right to do.
+             True to himself and to his fellow men,
+             With patient hand he moved the potent pen,
+             Whose inky stream did, like the Red Sea's flow,
+             Such bondage break and such a host o'erthrow!
+             The simple parchment on its fleeting page
+             Bespeaks the import of the better age,--
+             When man, for man, no more shall forge the chain,
+             Nor armies tread the shore, nor navies plow the main.
+             Then shall this boon to human freedom given
+             Be fitly deem'd a sacred gift of heaven;--
+             Though of the earth, it is no less divine,--
+             Founded on truth it will forever shine,
+             Reflecting rays from heaven's unchanging plan--
+             The law of right and brotherhood of man.
+
+
+
+
+Edna Dean Proctor, born in Henniker, New Hampshire, October 10, 1838.
+She received her early education in Concord and subsequently removed
+to Brooklyn, New York. She contributed largely to magazine literature
+and has traveled extensively abroad. Of all her poems _By the
+Shenandoah_ is probably the most popular.
+
+
+                     THE GRAVE OF LINCOLN
+
+                 Now must the storied Potomac
+                   Laurels forever divide;
+                 Now to the Sangamon fameless
+                   Give of its century's pride.
+                 Sangamon, stream of the prairies,
+                   Placidly westward that flows,
+                 Far in whose city of silence
+                   Calm he has sought his repose.
+                 Over our Washington's river
+                   Sunrise beams rosy and fair;
+                 Sunset on Sangamon fairer,--
+                   Father and martyr lies there.
+
+                 Break into blossom, O prairie!
+                   Snowy and golden and red;
+                 Peers of the Palestine lilies
+                   Heap for your Glorious Dead!
+                 Roses as fair as of Sharon,
+                   Branches as stately as palm,
+                 Odors as rich as the spices--
+                   Cassia and aloes and balm--
+                 Mary the loved and Salome,
+                   All with a gracious accord,
+                 Ere the first glow of the morning
+                   Brought to the tomb of the Lord.
+
+                 Not for thy sheaves nor savannas
+                   Crown we thee, proud Illinois!
+                 Here in his grave is thy grandeur;
+                   Born of his sorrow thy joy.
+                 Only the tomb by Mount Zion,
+                   Hewn for the Lord, do we hold
+                 Dearer than his in thy prairies,
+                   Girdled with harvests of gold!
+                 Still for the world through the ages
+                   Wreathing with glory his brow,
+                 He shall be Liberty's Saviour;
+                   Freedom's Jerusalem thou!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+     In Lincoln Park, Washington, D. C. Thomas Ball, sculptor.]
+
+
+The first contribution of five dollars for the statue in Lincoln Park,
+Washington, D. C., was made by a colored woman named Charlotte Scott,
+of Marietta, Ohio, the morning after the assassination of President
+Lincoln, and the entire cost of said monument, amounting to $17,000,
+was paid by subscriptions of colored people. It was unveiled April 14,
+1876.
+
+
+
+
+James Russell Lowell, born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, February 22,
+1819. He received his degree in 1838, at Harvard, and his first
+production was a class poem which was delivered on that date. He was
+successor of Professor Longfellow in the chair of Modern Languages at
+Harvard College. In 1877 he was appointed by President Hayes to the
+Spanish Mission, from which he was transferred in 1880 to the Court of
+St. James. A long list of poetical works have been published to his
+credit. He died August 12, 1891.
+
+
+                         COMMEMORATION ODE
+
+             Life may be given in many ways,
+             And loyalty to Truth be sealed
+               As bravely in the closet as the field,
+             So bountiful is Fate;
+               But then to stand beside her,
+               When craven churls deride her,
+             To front a lie in arms and not to yield,
+               This shows, methinks, God's plan
+               And measures of a stalwart man,
+             Limbed like the old heroic breeds,
+               Who stand self-poised on manhood's solid earth;
+               Not forced to frame excuses for his birth,
+             Fed from within with all the strength he needs.
+
+             Such was he, our Martyr-Chief,
+               Whom late the Nation he had led,
+               With ashes on her head,
+             Wept with the passion of an angry grief;
+             Forgive me, if from present things I turn
+             To speak what in my heart will beat and burn,
+             And hang my wreath on his world-honored urn.
+               Nature, they say, doth dote,
+               And cannot make a man
+               Save on some worn-out plan,
+               Repeating us by rote:
+             For him her Old World molds aside she threw,
+               And, choosing sweet clay from the breast
+               Of the unexhausted West,
+
+             With stuff untainted shaped a hero new,
+             Wise, steadfast in the strength of God, and true.
+                 How beautiful to see
+             Once more a shepherd of mankind indeed,
+             Who loved his charge, but never loved to lead;
+             One whose meek flock the people joyed to be,
+               Not lured by any cheat of birth,
+               But by his clear-grained human worth,
+             And brave old wisdom of sincerity!
+               They knew that outward grace is dust;
+               They could not choose but trust
+             In that sure-footed mind's unfaltering skill,
+                 And supple-tempered will
+             That bent like perfect steel to spring again and thrust!
+
+             His was no lonely mountain-peak of mind,
+               Thrusting to thin air o'er our cloudy bars,
+             A sea-mark now, now lost in vapors blind;
+             Broad prairie rather, genial, level-lined,
+             Fruitful and friendly for all human kind,
+               Yet also nigh to heaven and loved of loftiest stars.
+                 Nothing of Europe here,
+             Or, then, of Europe fronting mornward still,
+                 Ere any names of Serf or Peer
+               Could Nature's equal scheme deface;
+               Here was a type of the true elder race,
+             And one of Plutarch's men talked with us face to face.
+
+             I praise him not; it were too late;
+               And some innative weakness there must be
+               In him who condescends to victory
+             Such as the present gives, and cannot wait,
+             Safe in himself as in a fate.
+                 So always firmly he;
+             He knew to bide his time,
+                 And can his fame abide,
+             Still patient in his simple faith sublime,
+                 Till the wise years decide.
+             Great captains, with their guns and drums,
+                 Disturb our judgment for the hour,
+             But at last silence comes;
+                 These are all gone, and, standing like a tower,
+             Our children shall behold his fame,
+                 The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing man,
+             Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame,
+                 New birth of our new soil, the first American.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+                        By Leonard W. Volk]
+
+
+
+
+Richard Henry Stoddard, born in Hingham, Massachusetts, July 2, 1825.
+His first book, entitled _Foot Prints_, was published in 1849, and
+some three years after a more mature collection of poems was
+published. In later years a number of his books were published, all of
+which have been received with approbation by the public. Died May 12,
+1903.
+
+
+                          AN HORATIAN ODE
+
+                           (_To Lincoln_)
+
+                Not as when some great captain falls
+                In battle, where his country calls,
+                    Beyond the struggling lines
+                    That push his dread designs
+
+                To doom, by some stray ball struck dead:
+                Or in the last charge, at the head
+                    Of his determined men,
+                    Who must be victors then!
+
+                Nor as when sink the civic great,
+                The safer pillars of the State,
+                    Whose calm, mature, wise words
+                    Suppress the need of swords!
+
+                With no such tears as e'er were shed
+                Above the noblest of our dead
+                    Do we today deplore
+                    The man that is no more.
+
+                Our sorrow hath a wider scope,
+                Too strange for fear, too vast for hope,--
+                    A wonder, blind and dumb,
+                    That waits--what is to come!
+
+                Not more astonished had we been
+                If madness, that dark night, unseen,
+                    Had in our chambers crept,
+                    And murdered while we slept!
+
+                We woke to find a mourning earth--
+                Our Lares shivered on the hearth,--
+                    To roof-tree fallen--all
+                    That could affright, appall!
+
+                Such thunderbolts, in other lands,
+                Have smitten the rod from royal hands,
+                    But spared, with us, till now,
+                    Each laureled Caesar's brow.
+
+                No Caesar he, whom we lament,
+                A man without a precedent,
+                    Sent it would seem, to do
+                    His work--and perish too!
+
+                Not by the weary cares of state,
+                The endless tasks, which will not wait,
+                    Which, often done in vain,
+                    Must yet be done again;
+
+                Not in the dark, wild tide of war,
+                Which rose so high, and rolled so far,
+                    Sweeping from sea to sea
+                    In awful anarchy;--
+
+                Four fateful years of mortal strife,
+                Which slowly drained the Nation's life,
+                    (Yet, for each drop that ran
+                    There sprang an armed man!)
+
+                Not then;--but when by measures meet--
+                By victory, and by defeat,
+                    By courage, patience, skill,
+                    The people's fixed "We will!"
+
+                Had pierced, had crushed rebellion dead--
+                Without a hand, without a head:--
+                    At last, when all was well,
+                    He fell--O, how he fell!
+
+                Tyrants have fallen by such as thou,
+                And good hath followed,--may it now!
+                    (God lets bad instruments
+                    Produce the best events.)
+
+                But he, the man we mourn today,
+                No tyrant was; so mild a sway
+                    In one such weight who bore
+                    Was never known before!
+
+             _From "Poems of Richard Henry Stoddard"_
+           Copyright, 1880, by Charles Scribner's Sons.
+
+
+
+
+        [Illustration: "THE GOOD GRAY POET" (Walt Whitman)]
+
+
+Walt Whitman, born in West Hills, Long Island, New York, May 31, 1819.
+He was educated in the public schools of Brooklyn and New York City.
+Learned the printing trade at which he worked during the summer and
+taught school in winter. He made long pedestrian tours through the
+United States and even extended his tramps through Canada. His chief
+work, _Leaves of Grass_, is a series of poems through which he earned
+the praise of some and the abuse of others. He visited the army when a
+brother was wounded and remained afterward as a volunteer nurse. Died
+1892.
+
+
+                       O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!
+
+  O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
+  The ship has weather'd every wrack, the prize we sought is won;
+  The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
+  While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel firm and daring;
+
+                   But O heart! heart! heart!
+                     O the bleeding drops of red,
+                   Where on the deck my Captain lies,
+                     Fallen, cold and dead.
+
+  O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
+  Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills;
+  For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths--for you the shores
+       a-crowding;
+  For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
+
+                   Here, Captain! dear Father!
+                     This arm beneath your head;
+                   It is some dream that on the deck
+                     You've fallen cold and dead.
+
+  My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
+  My Father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
+  The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
+  From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
+
+                   Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
+                     But I, with mournful tread,
+                   Walk the deck where my Captain lies,
+                     Fallen, cold and dead.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+  By Lott Flannery, in front of the Court House, Washington Unveiled
+                          April 16, 1868]
+
+
+
+
+Henry de Garrs, of Sheffield, England, wrote these lines on the
+assassination of Abraham Lincoln in 1865. They were published in
+England in 1889, and later in America, in the _Century_.
+
+
+                  ON THE ASSASSINATION OF LINCOLN
+
+            What dreadful rumor, hurtling o'er the sea,
+            Too monstrous for belief, assails our shore?
+            Men pause and question, Can such foul crime be?
+            Till lingering doubt may cling to hope no more.
+            Not when great Caesar weltered in his gore,
+            Nor since, in time, or circumstance, or place,
+            Hath crime so shook the World's great heart before.
+            O World! O World! of all thy records base,
+            Time wears no fouler scar on his time-smitten face.
+
+            A king of men, inured to hardy toil,
+            Rose truly royal up the steeps of life,
+            Till Europe's monarchs seemed to dwarf the while
+            Beneath his greatness--great when traitors rife
+            Pierced deep his country's heart with treason-knife;
+            But greatest when victorious he stood,
+            Crowning with mercy freedom's greatest strife.
+            The world saw the new light of godlike good
+            Ere the assassin's hand shed his most precious blood.
+
+            Lament thy loss, sad sister of the West:
+            Not one, but many nations with thee weep;
+            Cherish thy martyr on thy wounded breast,
+            And lay him with thy Washington to sleep.
+            Earth holds no fitter sepulcher to keep
+            His royal heart--one of thy kings to be
+            Who reign even from the grave; whose scepters sweep
+            More potent over human destiny
+            Than all ambition's pride and power and majesty.
+
+            Yet, yet rejoice that thou hadst such a son;
+            The mother of such a man should never sigh;
+            Could longer life a nobler cause have won?
+            Could longest age more gloriously die?
+            Oh! lift thy heart, thy mind, thy soul on high
+            With deep maternal pride, that from thy womb
+            Came such a son to scourge hell's foulest lie
+            Out of life's temple. Watchers by his tomb!
+            He is not there, but risen: that grave is
+                 slavery's doom.
+
+
+
+
+         POETICAL TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+                        _By Emily J. Bugbee_
+
+
+        There's a burden of grief on the breezes of Spring,
+        And a song of regret from the bird on its wing;
+        There's a pall on the sunshine and over the flowers,
+        And a shadow of graves on these spirits of ours;
+        For a star hath gone out from the night of our sky,
+        On whose brightness we gazed as the war-cloud roll'd by;
+        So tranquil, and steady, and clear were its beams,
+        That they fell like a vision of peace on our dreams.
+
+        A heart that we knew had been true to our weal,
+        And a hand that was steadily guiding the wheel;
+        A name never tarnished by falsehood or wrong,
+        That had dwelt in our hearts like a soul-stirring song.
+        Ah! that pure, noble spirit has gone to its rest,
+        And the true hand lies nerveless and cold on his breast;
+        But the name and the memory--_these_ never will die,
+        But grow brighter and dearer as ages go by.
+
+        Yet the tears of a Nation fall over the dead,
+        Such tears as a Nation before never shed;
+        For our cherished one fell by a dastardly hand,
+        A martyr to truth and the cause of the land;
+        And a sorrow has surged, like the waves to the shore,
+        When the breath of the tempest is sweeping them o'er,
+        And the heads of the lofty and lowly have bowed,
+        As the shaft of the lightning sped out from the cloud.
+
+        Not gathered, like Washington, home to his rest,
+        When the sun of his life was far down in the West;
+        But stricken from earth in the midst of his years,
+        With the Canaan in view, of his prayers and his tears.
+        And the people, whose hearts in the wilderness failed,
+        Sometimes, when the star of their promise had paled,
+        Now, stand by his side on the mount of his fame,
+        And yield him their hearts in a grateful acclaim.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+           Muskegon, Michigan, Charles Niehaus, sculptor]
+
+
+
+
+John Nichol, born at Montrose, Forfarshire, Scotland, September 8,
+1833. He was a professor of English Literature at the University of
+Glasgow (1861-1889), and did much to make American books popular in
+England. His numerous publications include: _Leaves_ (1854), verse;
+_Tables of European History, 200-1876 A.D._ (1876); fourth edition
+(1888); _Byron in English Men of Letters series_; _American
+Literature, 1520-1880_ (1882). He was an ardent advocate of the
+Northern cause during the Civil War, and visited the United States at
+the close of the conflict. He died at London, England, October 11,
+1894.
+
+
+                           LINCOLN, 1865
+
+            An end at last! The echoes of the war--
+              The weary war beyond the Western waves--
+            Die in the distance. Freedom's rising star
+              Beacons above a hundred thousand graves;
+
+            The graves of heroes who have won the fight,
+              Who in the storming of the stubborn town
+            Have rung the marriage peal of might and right,
+              And scaled the cliffs and cast the dragon down.
+
+            Paeans of armies thrill across the sea,
+              Till Europe answers--"Let the struggle cease.
+            The bloody page is turned; the next may be
+              For ways of pleasantness and paths of peace!"
+
+            A golden morn--a dawn of better things--
+              The olive-branch--clasping of hands again--
+            A noble lesson read to conquered kings--
+              A sky that tempests had not scoured in vain.
+
+            This from America we hoped and him
+              Who ruled her "in the spirit of his creed."
+            Does the hope last when all our eyes are dim,
+              As history records her darkest deed?
+
+            The pilot of his people through the strife,
+              With his strong purpose turning scorn to praise,
+            E'en at the close of battle reft of life
+              And fair inheritance of quiet days.
+
+            Defeat and triumph found him calm and just,
+              He showed how clemency should temper power,
+            And, dying, left to future times in trust
+              The memory of his brief victorious hour.
+
+            O'ermastered by the irony of fate,
+              The last and greatest martyr of his cause;
+            Slain like Achilles at the Scaean gate,
+              He saw the end, and fixed "the purer laws."
+
+            May these endure and, as his work, attest
+              The glory of his honest heart and hand--
+            The simplest, and the bravest, and the best--
+              The Moses and the Cromwell of his land.
+
+            Too late the pioneers of modern spite,
+              Awe-stricken by the universal gloom,
+            See his name lustrous in Death's sable night,
+              And offer tardy tribute at his tomb.
+
+            But we who have been with him all the while,
+              Who knew his worth, and loved him long ago,
+            Rejoice that in the circuit of our isle
+              There is at last no room for Lincoln's foe.
+
+
+
+
+                 [Illustration: LINCOLN AND CABINET
+
+       "The First Reading of the Emancipation Proclamation."
+                   Painted by Frank B. Carpenter.
+
+    From left to right--Edwin M. Stanton, Secretary of War; Salmon
+    P. Chase, Secretary of the Treasury; President Lincoln; Gideon
+    Welles, Secretary of the Navy; William H. Seward, Secretary of
+    State; J. P. Usher, Secretary of the Interior; Montgomery Blair,
+    Postmaster-General; Edward Bates, Attorney-General]
+
+
+
+
+Christopher Pearse Cranch, born in Alexandria, Virginia, March 8,
+1813. Graduated at the school of Divinity, Cambridge, Massachusetts,
+in 1835, but retired from the ministry in 1842 to devote himself to
+art. He studied in Italy in 1846-8, and lived and painted in 1853-63,
+and, returning to New York, was elected a member of the National
+Academy in 1864. He was a graceful writer of both prose and verse.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+       But yesterday--the exulting nation's shout
+         Swelled on the breeze of victory through our streets,
+       But yesterday--our banners flaunted out
+         Like flowers the south wind woos from their retreats;
+       Flowers of the nation, blue, and white, and red,
+         Waving from balcony, and spire, and mast;
+       Which told us that war's wintry storm had fled,
+         And spring was more than spring to us at last.
+
+       Today the nation's heart lies crushed and weak;
+         Drooping and draped in black our banners stand.
+       Too stunned to cry revenge, we scarce may speak
+         The grief that chokes all utterance through the land.
+       God is in all. With tears our eyes are dim,
+         Yet strive through darkness to look to Him!
+
+       No, not in vain he died--not all in vain,
+         Our good, great President! This people's hands
+       Are linked together in one mighty chain
+         Drawn tighter still in triple-woven bands
+       To crush the fiends in human masks, whose might
+         We suffer, oh, too long! No league, nor truce
+       Save men with men! The devils we must fight
+         With fire! God wills it in this deed. This use
+       We draw from the most impious murder done
+         Since Calvary. Rise then, O Countrymen!
+       Scatter these marsh-lights hopes of Union won
+         Through pardoning clemency. Strike, strike again!
+       Draw closer round the foe a girdling flame.
+         We are stabbed whene'er we spare--strike in God's name!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+    Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Randolph Rogers,
+               sculptor. Unveiled November 26, 1869]
+
+
+
+
+George Henry Boker, born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, on the 6th day
+of October, 1823. Graduated at Princeton in 1842, and afterward
+studied law. In the year 1847, after his return from an extended tour
+in Europe, he published _The Lessons of Life and Other Poems_. He also
+produced a number of plays which were successfully produced upon the
+stage, both in England and America. During the War of the Rebellion he
+wrote a number of patriotic lyrics, collected and published in a
+volume under the title of _Poems of the War_. He has also written
+other poems and articles in prose which have received high praise.
+
+In the year 1871 he was appointed by President Grant as our United
+States Minister to Turkey, but in 1875 was transferred to the more
+important Mission of Russia.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+             Crown we our heroes with a holier wreath
+             Than man e'er wore upon this side of death;
+             Mix with their laurels deathless asphodels,
+             And chime their paeans from the sacred bells!
+             Nor in your praises forget the martyred Chief,
+             Fallen for the gospel of your own belief,
+             Who, ere he mounted to the people's throne,
+             Asked for your prayers, and joined in them his own.
+             I knew the man. I see him, as he stands
+             With gifts of mercy in his outstretched hands;
+             A kindly light within his gentle eyes,
+             Sad as the toil in which his heart grew wise;
+             His lips half parted with the constant smile
+             That kindled truth, but foiled the deepest guile;
+             His head bent forward, and his willing ear
+             Divinely patient right and wrong to hear:
+             Great in his goodness, humble in his state,
+             Firm in his purpose, yet not passionate,
+             He led his people with a tender hand,
+             And won by love a sway beyond command.
+             Summoned by lot to mitigate a time
+             Frenzied with rage, unscrupulous with crime,
+             He bore his mission with so meek a heart
+             That Heaven itself took up his people's part;
+             And when he faltered, helped him ere he fell,
+             Eking his efforts out by miracle.
+             No king this man, by grace of God's intent;
+             No, something better, freeman,--President!
+             A nature modeled on a higher plan,
+             Lord of himself, an inborn gentleman!
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+                       Photo by Brady, 1864]
+
+
+
+
+Phoebe Cary was born near Cincinnati, Ohio, September 24, 1824. Her
+advantages for education were somewhat better than those of her sister
+Alice, whose almost inseparable companion she became at an early age.
+They were quite different, however, in temperament, in person and in
+mental constitution. Phoebe began to write verse at the age of
+seventeen years, and one of her earliest poems, _Nearer Home_,
+beginning with "One sweetly solemn thought," won her a world-wide
+reputation. In the joint housekeeping in New York she took from choice
+(Alice being for many years an invalid) the larger share of duties
+upon herself, and hence found little opportunity for literary work.
+In society, however, she was brilliant, but at all times kindly. She
+wrote a touching tribute to her sister's memory, published in the
+_Ladies' Repository_ a few days before her own death, which occurred
+at Newport, R. I., July 31, 1871. In the volume of _Poems of Alice and
+Phoebe Cary_ (Philadelphia, 1850) but about one-third were written by
+Phoebe. Her independently published books are _Poems and Parodies_
+(1854), and _Poems of Faith, Hope and Love_ (1868).
+
+
+                          ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+              Our sun hath gone down at the noonday,
+                The heavens are black;
+              And over the morning the shadows
+                Of night-time are back.
+
+              Stop the proud boasting mouth of the cannon,
+                Hush the mirth and the shout;
+              God is God! and the ways of Jehovah
+                Are past finding out.
+
+              Lo! the beautiful feet on the mountains,
+                That yesterday stood;
+              The white feet that came with glad tidings
+                Are dabbled in blood.
+
+              The Nation that firmly was settling
+                The crown on her head,
+              Sits, like Rizpah, in sackcloth and ashes,
+                And watches her dead.
+
+              Who is dead? who, unmoved by our wailing
+                Is lying so low?
+              O, my Land, stricken dumb in your anguish,
+                Do you feel, do you know?
+
+              Once this good man we mourn, overwearied,
+                Worn, anxious, oppressed,
+              Was going out from his audience chamber
+                For a season to rest;
+
+              Unheeding the thousands who waited
+                To honor and greet,
+              When the cry of a child smote upon him
+                And turned back his feet.
+
+              "Three days hath a woman been waiting,"
+                Said they, "patient and meek."
+              And he answered, "Whatever her errand,
+                Let me hear; let her speak!"
+
+              So she came, and stood trembling before him
+                And pleaded her cause;
+              Told him all; how her child's erring father
+                Had broken the laws.
+
+              Humbly spake she: "I mourn for his folly,
+                His weakness, his fall";
+              Proudly spake she: "he is not a TRAITOR,
+                And I love him through all!"
+
+              Then the great man, whose heart had been shaken
+                By a little babe's cry;
+              Answered soft, taking counsel of mercy,
+                "This man shall not die!"
+
+              Why, he heard from the dungeons, the rice-fields,
+                The dark holds of ships;
+              Every faint, feeble cry which oppression
+                Smothered down on men's lips.
+
+              In her furnace, the centuries had welded
+                Their fetter and chain;
+              And like withes, in the hands of his purpose,
+                He snapped them in twain.
+
+              Who can be what he was to the people;
+                What he was to the State?
+              Shall the ages bring to us another
+                As good and as great?
+
+              Our hearts with their anguish are broken,
+                Our wet eyes are dim;
+              For us is the loss and the sorrow,
+                The triumph for him!
+
+              For, ere this, face to face with his Father
+                Our Martyr hath stood;
+              Giving into his hand the white record
+                With its great seal of blood!
+
+              That the hand which reached out of the darkness
+                Hath taken the whole?
+              Yea, the arm and the head of the people--
+                The heart and the soul!
+
+              And that heart, o'er whose dread awful silence
+                A nation has wept;
+              Was the truest, and gentlest, and sweetest
+                A man ever kept!
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+   By Augustus Saint Gaudens, in Lincoln Park, Chicago, Illinois]
+
+
+On the 22nd of October, 1887, this statue by Saint Gaudens was
+unveiled, Mr. Eli Bates donating $40,000 for that purpose. There is a
+vast oval of cut stone, thirty by sixty feet, the interior fashioned
+to form a classic bench, and the statue stands on a stone pedestal.
+The sculptor represents him as an orator, just risen from his chair,
+which is shown behind him, and waiting for the audience to become
+quiet before beginning his speech. The attitude is that always assumed
+by Lincoln at the beginning--one hand behind him, and the other
+grasping the lapel of his coat. He appears the very incarnation of
+rugged grandeur which held the master mind of this age.
+
+
+
+
+Charles Graham Halpin (Miles O'Reilly) was born near Oldcastle, County
+of Meath, Ireland, November 20, 1829. Graduated from Trinity College,
+Dublin, in 1846. He entered the field of journalism as a profession
+and soon gained a reputation in England. Came to New York in 1852 and
+secured employment with the _Herald_, was later connected with other
+papers. Enlisted in April, 1861, and became lieutenant of Colonel
+Corcoran's 69th Regiment, rising to the rank of brigadier-general. He
+died in New York City, August 3, 1868.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+               He filled the Nation's eyes and heart,
+                 An honored, loved, familiar name;
+                 So much a brother that his fame
+               Seemed of our lives a common part.
+
+               His towering figure, sharp and spare,
+                 Was with such nervous tension strung,
+                 As if on each strained sinew swung
+               The burden of a people's care.
+
+               His changing face, what pen can draw--
+                 Pathetic, kindly, droll or stern;
+                 And with a glance so quick to learn
+               The inmost truth of all he saw.
+
+               Pride found no place to spawn
+                 Her fancies in his busy mind.
+                 His worth, like health or air, could find
+               No just appraisal till withdrawn.
+
+               He was his country's--not his own;
+                 He had no wish but for the weak,
+                 Nor for himself could think or feel,
+               But as a laborer for her throne.
+
+               Her flag upon the heights of power--
+                 Stainless and unassayed to place,
+                 To this one end his earnest face
+               Was bent through every burdened hour.
+
+                 .       .       .       .       .
+
+               But done the battle--won the strife;
+                 When torches light his vaulted tomb,
+                 Broad gems flash out and crowns illume
+               The clay-cold brow undecked in life.
+
+                 .       .       .       .       .
+
+               O, loved and lost! Thy patient toil
+                 Had robed our cause in victory's light;
+                 Our country stood redeemed and bright,
+               With not a slave on all her soil.
+
+               'Mid peals of bells and cannon's bark,
+                 And shouting streets with flags abloom,
+                 Sped the shrill arrow of thy doom,
+               And, in an instant, all was dark!
+
+                 .       .       .       .       .
+
+               A martyr to the cause of man,
+                 His blood is Freedom's Eucharist,
+                 And in the world's great hero list
+               His name shall lead the van.
+
+               Yes! ranked on Faith's white wings unfurled
+                 In Heaven's pure light, of him we say,
+                 "He fell on the self-same day
+               A Greater died to save the world."
+
+
+
+
+               [Illustration: TABLET AT PHILADELPHIA
+
+                    Unveiled February 21, 1903]
+
+
+
+
+He who seeks the embodiment of the genius of the Union finds it in the
+apotheosis of the Great Emancipator. There, under the arching skies he
+stands, erect, serene, resplendent; beneath his feet the broken
+shackles of a race redeemed; upon his brow the diadem of liberty with
+law, while around and behind him rise up, as an eternal guard of
+honor, the great army of the Republic.
+
+In the belief that from the martyr's bier as from the battlefield of
+right it is but one step to paradise, may we not, on days like this,
+draw back the veil that separates from our mortal gaze the phantom
+squadrons as they pass again in grand review before their "Martyr
+President."--_From an address by Hiram F. Stevens, read before the
+Minnesota Commandery of the Loyal Legion._
+
+
+                        THE MARTYR PRESIDENT
+
+                  In solid platoons of steel,
+                    Under heaven's triumphant arch,
+                  The long lines break and wheel,
+                    And the order is "Forward, March!"
+                  The colors ripple o'erhead,
+                    The drums roll up to the sky,
+                  And with martial time and tread
+                    The regiments all pass by--
+                  The ranks of the faithful dead
+                    Meeting their president's eye.
+                  March on, your last brave mile!
+                    Salute him, star and lace!
+                  Form 'round him, rank and file,
+                    And look on the kind, rough face.
+                  But the quaint and homely smile
+                    Has a glory and a grace
+                  It has never known erstwhile,
+                    Never in time or space.
+                  Close 'round him, hearts of pride!
+                  Press near him, side by side!
+                    For he stands there not alone.
+                  For the holy right he died,
+                  And Christ, the crucified,
+                    Waits to welcome his own.
+
+
+
+
+                          ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+            _Written for the Lincoln Memorial Album, by
+                       Eugene J. Hall, 1882._
+
+
+        O honored name, revered and undecaying,
+          Engraven on each heart, O soul sublime!
+        That, like a planet through the heavens straying,
+          Outlives the wreck of time!
+
+        O rough, strong soul, your noble self-possession
+          Is unforgotten. Still your work remains.
+        You freed from bondage and from vile oppression
+          A race in clanking chains.
+
+        O furrowed face, beloved by all the nation!
+          O tall gaunt form, to memory fondly dear!
+        O firm, bold hand, our strength and our salvation!
+          O heart that knew no fear!
+
+        Lincoln, your manhood shall survive forever,
+          Shedding a fadeless halo round your name;
+        Urging men on, with wise and strong endeavor,
+          To bright and honest fame!
+
+        Through years of care, to rest and joy a stranger,
+          You saw complete the work you had begun,
+        Thoughtless of threats, nor heeding death or danger,
+          You toiled till all was done.
+
+        You freed the bondman from his iron master,
+          You broke the strong and cruel chains he wore,
+        You saved the Ship of State from foul disaster
+          And brought her safe to shore.
+
+        You fell! An anxious nation's hopes seemed blighted,
+          While millions shuddered at your dreadful fall;
+        But _God is good_! His wondrous hand has righted
+          And reunited all.
+
+        You fell, but in your death you were victorious;
+          To moulder in the tomb your form has gone,
+        While through the world your great soul grows more glorious
+          As years go gliding on!
+
+        All hail, great Chieftain! Long will sweetly cluster
+          A thousand memories round your sacred name,
+        Nor time, nor death shall dim the spotless luster
+          That shines upon your fame.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+     By Vinnie Ream, rotunda of the Capitol, Washington, D. C.]
+
+
+
+
+Samuel Francis Smith, clergyman, born in Boston, Massachusetts,
+October 21, 1808. Attended the Boston Latin School in 1820-5, and was
+graduated at Harvard in 1829 and at Andover Theological Seminary in
+1832. Was ordained to the ministry of the Baptist Church at
+Waterville, Maine, in 1834, where he occupied pastorates from 1834
+until 1842, and at Newton, Massachusetts, 1842 to 1854. Was professor
+of languages in Waterville College while residing in that city, and
+there he also received the degree of D.D. in 1854.
+
+He has done a large amount of literary work, mainly in the line of
+hymnology, his most popular composition being our national hymn, _My
+Country, 'Tis of Thee_, which was written while he was a theological
+student, and first sung at a children's celebration in the Park Street
+Church, Boston, July 4, 1832. _The Morning Light is Breaking_, was
+also written at the same place and time. His classmate, Oliver Wendell
+Holmes, in his reunion poem entitled _The Boys_, thus refers to him:
+
+         "And there's a nice youngster of excellent pith;
+         Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith!
+         But he chanted a song for the brave and the free--
+         Just read on his medal, 'My Country, of Thee!'"
+
+     The following poem was written expressly for the exercises
+     held on the Nineteenth Anniversary of President Lincoln's
+     death, at his tomb, Springfield, Illinois, April 15, 1884.
+
+
+                        THE TOMB OF LINCOLN
+
+       Grandeur and glory await around the bed
+       Where sleeps in lowly peace the illustrious dead;
+       He rose a meteor, upon wondering men,
+       But rose in strength, never to set again.
+       A king of men, though born in lowly state,
+       A man sincerely good and nobly great;
+       Tender, but firm; faithful and kind, and true,
+       The Nation's choice, the Nation's Saviour, too;
+       When Liberty and Truth shall reign for evermore,
+       From Oregon to Florida's perpetual May,
+       From Shasta's awful peak to Massachusetts Bay,--
+       Then our children's children, by the cottage door,
+       In the schoolroom, from the pulpit, at the bar,
+       Shall look up to thee as to a beacon star,
+       And deduce the lesson from thy life and death,
+       That the patriot's lofty courage and the Christian's faith
+       Conquer honors that outweigh ambition's gaudiest prize,
+       Triumph o'er the grave, and open the gates of Paradise.
+
+       Schooled through life's early hardships to endure,
+       To raise the oppressed, to save and shield the poor;
+       Prudent in counsel, honest in debate,
+       Patient to hear and judge, patient to wait;
+       The calm, the wise, the witty and the proved,
+       Whom millions honored, and whom millions loved;
+       Swayed by no baleful lust of pride or power,
+       The shining pageants of the passing hour,
+
+       Led by no scheming arts, no selfish aim,
+       Ambitious for no pomp, nor wealth, nor fame,
+       No planning hypocrite, no pliant tool,
+       A high-born patriot, of Heaven's noblest school;
+       Cool and unshaken in the maddest storm,
+       For in the clouds he traced the Almighty's form;
+       Worn with the weary heart and aching head,
+       Worse than the picket, with his ceaseless tread,
+
+       He kept--as bound by some resistless fate--
+       His broad, strong hand upon the helm of State;
+       Nor turned, in fear, his heart or hope away,
+       Till on the field his tent a ruin lay.
+       His tent, a ruin; but the owner's name
+       Stands on the pinnacle of human fame,
+       Inscribed in lines of light, and nations see,
+       Through him, the people's life and liberty.
+
+       What high ideas, what noble acts he taught!
+       To make men free in life, and limb, and thought,
+       To rise, to soar, to scorn the oppressor's rod,
+       To live in grander life, to live for God;
+       To stand for justice, freedom and the right,
+       To dare the conflict, strong in God's own might;
+       The methods taught by Him, by him were tried,
+       And he, to conscience true, a martyr died.
+
+       As the great sun pursues his heavenly way
+       And fills with life and joy the livelong day,
+       Till, the full journey, in glory dressed,
+       He seeks his crimson couch beneath the west;
+       So, with his labor done, our hero sleeps;
+       Above his tomb a ransomed Nation weeps;
+       And grateful paeans o'er his ashes rise--
+       Dear is his fame--his glory never dies.
+
+       Bring flowers, fresh flowers, bring plumes with nodding crests,
+       To wreath the tomb where our great hero rests;
+       Bring pipe and tabret, eloquence and song,
+       And sound the loving tribute, loud and long;
+       A Nation bows, and mourns his honored name,
+       A Nation proudly keeps his deathless fame;
+       Let vale and rock, and hill, and land, and sea
+       His memory swell--the anthem of the free.
+
+
+
+
+              [Illustration: STATUE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
+
+         On the State Capitol Grounds at Lincoln, Nebraska.
+    Unveiled September 2, 1912. Daniel Chester French, sculptor]
+
+
+
+
+John Townsend Trowbridge, born September 18, 1827, in Ogden, New York.
+He lived the ordinary life of a country boy, going to school six
+months in the year till he was fourteen, after which he had to work on
+the farm in summer. His books had more interest to him than his work,
+and he managed to learn more out of school than in it. At sixteen he
+wrote articles in verse and prose for magazines and journals. He was a
+contributor to the _Atlantic Monthly_.
+
+During the great rebellion, he wrote several stories of the war: _The
+Drummer Boy_, 1863, and _The Three Scouts_, 1865. On the return of
+peace he spent some four months in the principal southern States, for
+the purpose of gaining accurate views of the condition of society
+there after the war. He published the result of these observations
+June, 1866, in a volume entitled, _The South_. A collected edition of
+his poems was published in 1869, entitled _The Vagabonds, and Other
+Poems_.
+
+
+                              LINCOLN
+
+           Heroic soul, in homely garb half hid,
+             Sincere, sagacious, melancholy, quaint;
+           What he endured, no less than what he did,
+             Has reared his monument, and crowned him saint.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+         Burlington, Wisconsin. George E. Ganiere, sculptor
+                     Unveiled October 13, 1913]
+
+
+
+
+Kinahan Cornwallis was born in London, England, December 24, 1839.
+Entered British Colonial Civil Service; two years at Melbourne,
+Australia. Located in New York in 1860, one of the editors and
+correspondent of the _Herald_. Accompanied the Prince of Wales on his
+American tour. Admitted to the New York bar in 1863; financial editor
+and general editorial writer of _New York Herald_, 1860-69. Editor and
+proprietor of _The Knickerbocker Magazine_, afterward of _The Albion_.
+Since 1886 editor and proprietor _Wall Street Daily Investigator_, now
+_Wall Street Daily Investor_. Author of _Howard Plunkett_ (a novel);
+an Australian poem, 1857. The _New Eldorado, or British Columbia_
+(Travels); _Two Journeys to Japan_; _A Panorama of the New World_;
+_Wreck and Ruin, or Modern Society_ (novel); _My Life and Adventures_
+(story), 1859, also of many other histories and novels. Among his poet
+productions are _The Song of America and Columbus_, 1892; _The
+Conquest of Mexico and Peru_, 1893; _The War for the Union, or the
+Duel Between North and South_, 1899.
+
+
+                       HOMAGE DUE TO LINCOLN
+
+             Well may we all to Lincoln homage pay,
+             For patriotic duty points the way,
+             And tells the story of the debt we owe--
+             A debt of gratitude that all should know;
+             And ne'er will perish that historic tale.
+             To him, the Union's great defender, hail!
+             Through battling years he steered the ship of state,
+             And ever proved a captain just and great.
+             Through storm and tempest, and unnumbered woes,
+             While oft assailed in fury by his foes,
+             He held his course, and triumphed over all,
+             Responding ever to his country's call;
+             And more divine than human seemed the deed
+             When he the slave from hellish bondage freed,
+             And from the South its human chattels tore.
+             'Twas his to Man his manhood to restore.
+             That righteous action sealed rebellion's doom,
+             And paved secession's pathway to the tomb.
+             But, lo! when Peace with Union glory, came,
+             And all the country rang with his acclaim--
+             A reunited country, great and strong--
+             A foul assassin marked him for his prey;
+             A bullet sped, and Lincoln dying lay.
+             Alas! Alas! that he should thus have died--
+             His country's leader, and his country's pride!
+             No deed more infamous than this--
+             No fate more cruel and unjust than his--
+             Can in the annals of the world be found.
+             The Nation shuddered in its grief profound,
+             And mourning emblems draped the country o'er
+             Alas! Alas! its leader was no more!
+             But still he lives in his immortal fame,
+             And evermore will Glory gild his name,
+             And keep his memory in eternal view,
+             And o'er his grave unfading garlands strew.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+        At Edinburgh, Scotland, George E. Bissell, sculptor]
+
+
+It is within an inclosed cemetery, known as the Calton burying ground,
+which is separated from the Calton Hill by a wide thoroughfare. The
+statue is the work of an American sculptor, George E. Bissell. It is a
+fine bronze figure, and rests on a massive granite pedestal. The
+figure at the base is that of a freed negro holding up a wreath. On
+one face of the pedestal are Lincoln's words, "To preserve the jewel
+of liberty in the framework of freedom." The statue is a memorial not
+alone to Lincoln; the legend on the pedestal tells that this plot of
+ground was given by the lord provost and town council of Edinburgh to
+Wallace Bruce, United States Consul, and dedicated as a burial place
+for Scottish soldiers of the American Civil War, 1861-65. Cut in the
+granite are the names and records of Scots who fought to preserve the
+Union, and who have found their last resting place in this old burying
+ground at the Scottish capital.
+
+
+David K. Watson was born near London, Madison County, Ohio, June 18,
+1849. Moved to Columbus, Ohio, in 1875, where he now resides. Was
+Assistant United States District Attorney for the Southern District of
+Ohio from 1881 to 1885. Elected Attorney-General of Ohio in 1887 and
+re-elected in 1889. Member of the fifty-fourth Congress. Was member of
+the Commission to revise the Federal Statutes. Author of _History of
+American Coinage_ and _Watson on the Constitution of the United
+States_.
+
+
+                        THE SCOTLAND STATUE
+
+             O Scotland! It was a gracious act in thee
+             To build a monument beside the sea
+             To Lincoln, who wrote the word,
+             And slavery's shackles fell
+             From off a race
+             Which ne'er before could tell
+             What freedom was.
+             To Lincoln, whose soul was great enough to know
+             That beings born in likeness of their God
+             Were meant to live as freemen,
+             Not as slaves, and ruled by slavery's rod.
+             To Lincoln, who more than any of his race
+             Uplifted men and women to the place
+             God made for them.
+             To Lincoln, who never saw your land,
+             And in whose veins no Scottish blood had run;
+             But yet, because of deeds which he had done,
+             His mighty name
+             Had filled the world with fame
+             And taught the people of each land
+             That in God's hand
+             Is held the destiny of races and of man.
+
+             Immortal patriot! through the mist of years
+             That in the future are to come,--
+             When we who saw thee here are gone,--
+             We view thy heaven-aspiring tomb
+             Illumined by the roseate dawn
+             Of the millennial day,
+             When Peace shall hold her sway,
+             And bring Saturnian eras; when the roar
+             O' the battle's thunder shall be heard no more.
+
+
+
+
+                  [Illustration: STATUE OF LINCOLN
+
+             At Newark, N. J. Gutzon Borglum, sculptor]
+
+
+The statue was unveiled May 30, 1911. It is the gift of Amos H. Van
+Horn, who died December 26, 1908. In his will he set aside $25,000 for
+a memorial to Abraham Lincoln, to be dedicated in memory of Lincoln
+Post, No. 11, Department of New Jersey, G. A. R., of which he was a
+charter member.
+
+
+
+
+Joseph Fulford Folsom, Presbyterian clergyman, miscellaneous writer
+and local historian, is a native of Bloomfield, New Jersey. He is a
+direct descendant of John Folsom who arrived at Boston in the Diligent
+on August 10, 1638, and settled at Hingham, Massachusetts.
+
+Mr. Folsom is the pastor of the Third Presbyterian Church, South, of
+Newark, New Jersey. He has served two terms as Chaplain General of the
+Order of the Founders and Patriots of America. Is Librarian and
+Recording Secretary of the New Jersey Historical Society. Edited and
+wrote three chapters of _Bloomfield, Old and New_, a history of that
+town published in 1912. Wrote the history of the churches of Newark,
+including the _History of Newark, New Jersey_, published in 1913. His
+poem, _The Ballad of Daniel Bray_, is found in the _Patriotic Poems of
+New Jersey_. He is an occasional writer of poems, and contributes
+regularly a column of historical matters, signed "The Lorist."
+
+
+                        THE UNFINISHED WORK
+
+               The crowd was gone, and to the side
+                 Of Borglum's Lincoln, deep in awe,
+               I crept. It seem'd a mighty tide
+                 Within those aching eyes I saw.
+
+               "Great heart," I said, "why grieve alway?
+                 The battle's ended and the shout
+               Shall ring forever and a day,--
+                 Why sorrow yet, or darkly doubt?"
+
+               "Freedom," I plead, "so nobly won
+                 For all mankind, and equal right,
+               Shall with the ages travel on
+                 Till time shall cease, and day be night."
+
+               No answer--then; but up the slope,
+                 With broken gait, and hands in clench,
+               A toiler came, bereft of hope,
+                 And sank beside him on the bench.
+
+
+           [Illustration: CHILDREN ON THE BORGLUM STATUE]
+
+
+
+
+Wendell Phillips Stafford, son of Frank and Sarah (Noyes) Stafford,
+born at Barre, Vermont, May 1, 1861. Educated at Barre Academy and St.
+Johnsbury Academy. Studied law and attended Boston University Law
+School, graduating therefrom in 1883. Admitted to the bar in 1883.
+Practiced law in St. Johnsbury until 1900. Was then appointed to the
+Supreme Court of Vermont. Appointed to the Supreme Court of the
+District of Columbia in 1904, which position he still holds.
+
+Married February 24, 1886, to Miss Florence Sinclair Goss of St.
+Johnsbury. Has contributed to the _Atlantic Monthly_ and other
+magazines. Publications: _North Flowers_ (poems), 1902; _Dorian Days_
+(poems), 1909; _Speeches_, 1913.
+
+
+                       ONE OF OUR PRESIDENTS
+
+                          (_See page 80_)
+
+           He sits there on the low, rude, backless bench,
+           With his tall hat beside him, and one arm
+           Flung, thus, across his knee. The other hand
+           Rests, flat, palm downward, by him on the seat.
+           So AEsop may have sat; so Lincoln did.
+           For all the sadness in the sunken eyes,
+           For all the kingship in the uncrowned brow,
+           The great form leans so friendly, father-like,
+           It is a call to children. I have watched
+           Eight at a time swarming upon him there,
+           All clinging to him--riding upon his knees,
+           Cuddling between his arms, clasping his neck,
+           Perched on his shoulders, even on his head;
+           And one small, play-stained hand I saw reached up
+           And laid most softly on the kind bronze lips
+           As if it claimed them. These were the children
+           Of foreigners we call them, but not so
+           They call themselves; for when we asked of one,
+           A restless dark-eyed girl, who this man was,
+           She answered straight, "One of our Presidents."
+
+           "Let all the winds of hell blow in our sails,"
+           I thought, "thank God, thank God the ship rides true!"
+
+
+
+
+                   [Illustration: HEAD OF LINCOLN
+
+    This medal was struck for the Grand Army of the Republic in
+       commemoration of the 100th anniversary of the birth of
+                          Abraham Lincoln]
+
+
+Frank Dempster Sherman, son of John Dempster and Lucy (McFarland)
+Sherman, was born May 6, 1860, at Peekskill, New York; educated at
+home and at Columbia and Howard Universities, and since 1886 connected
+with Columbia University where he is Professor of Graphics. Author of
+several volumes of poems which are published by Houghton-Mifflin
+Company, Boston.
+
+Professor Sherman married, November 16, 1887, Juliet Durand, daughter
+of Rev. Cyrus Bervic and Sarah Elizabeth (Merserveau) Durand.
+
+He is a member of the National Institute of Arts and Letters.
+
+
+                    ON A BRONZE MEDAL OF LINCOLN
+
+          This bronze our Lincoln's noble head doth bear,
+            Behold the strength and splendor of that face,
+            So homely-beautiful, with just a trace
+          Of humor lightening its look of care,
+          With bronze indeed his memory doth share,
+            This martyr who found freedom for a Race;
+            Both shall endure beyond the time and place
+          That knew them first, and brighter grow with wear.
+          Happy must be the genius here that wrought
+            These features of the great American
+              Whose fame lends so much glory to our past--
+          Happy to know the inspiration caught
+            From this most human and heroic man
+              Lives here to honor him while Art shall last.
+
+
+
+
+               [Illustration: MARBLE HEAD OF LINCOLN
+
+  In Statuary Hall, Capitol in Washington, Gutzon Borglum, sculptor]
+
+
+
+
+Ella Wheeler [Wilcox] was born in Johnstown Centre, Wisconsin, in
+1845. Was educated at the public schools at Windsor and at the
+University of Wisconsin. In 1884 she married Robert M. Wilcox.
+Contributed articles for newspapers at an early age and also wrote and
+published a number of books of poems.
+
+
+            THE GLORY THAT SLUMBERED IN THE GRANITE ROCK
+
+            A granite rock on the mountain side
+            Gazed on the world and was satisfied;
+            It watched the centuries come and go--
+            It welcomed the sunlight, and loved the snow,
+            It grieved when the forest was forced to fall,
+            But smiled when the steeples rose, white and tall,
+            In the valley below it, and thrilled to hear
+            The voice of the great town roaring near.
+
+            When the mountain stream from its idle play
+            Was caught by the mill-wheel, and borne away
+            And trained to labor, the gray rock mused:
+            "Tree and verdure and stream are used
+            By man, the master, but I remain
+            Friend of the Mountain, and Star, and Plain;
+            Unchanged forever, by God's decree,
+            While passing centuries bow to me!"
+
+            Then, all unwarned, with a heavy shock
+            Down from the mountain was wrenched the rock.
+            Bruised and battered and broken in heart,
+            He was carried away to a common mart.
+            Wrecked and ruined in peace and pride,
+            "Oh, God is cruel!" the granite cried;
+            "Comrade of Mountain, of Star the friend--
+            By all deserted--how sad my end!"
+
+            A dreaming sculptor, in passing by,
+            Gazed on the granite with thoughtful eye;
+            Then, stirred with a purpose supreme and grand,
+            He bade his dream in the rock expand--
+            And lo! from the broken and shapeless mass,
+            That grieved and doubted, it came to pass
+            That a glorious statue, of infinite worth--
+            A statue of LINCOLN--adorned the earth.
+
+
+
+
+                 [Illustration: THE LINCOLN BOULDER
+
+                          At Nyack, N. Y.]
+
+
+This boulder had been for two hundred and fifty years a landmark near
+the Western shore of the Hudson River, opposite Upper Nyack. The
+school children of Nyack contributed the funds to remove it from its
+ancient bed and place it in front of the Nyack Carnegie Library, where
+it now stands and probably will stand for thousands of years to come,
+a monument to the memory of Abraham Lincoln.
+
+The boulder contains the Gettysburg address and was dedicated June 13,
+1908.
+
+
+Louis Bradford Couch, born at East Lee, Massachusetts, October 1,
+1851. Son of Bradford Milton and Lucy L. Couch. Educated in the public
+schools of Northampton, Massachusetts. Began the study of medicine in
+1871, graduating with honors from the New York Homeopathic Medical
+College, March 4, 1874, being awarded the Allen gold medal for the
+best original investigations in medicine; he was graduated from the
+New York Ophthalmic Hospital, the same year, as an eye and ear
+surgeon. Practiced medicine for thirty-nine years at Nyack, New York.
+Served three years as one of the medical experts on the New York State
+Board of Health.
+
+
+                        THE LINCOLN BOULDER
+
+           O Mighty Boulder, wrought by God's own hand,
+           Throughout all future ages thou shalt stand
+           A monument of honor to the brave
+           Who yielded up their lives, their all, to save
+           Our glorious country, and to make it free
+           From bondsmen's tears and lash of slavery.
+
+           Securely welded to thy rugged breast,
+           Through all the coming ages there shall rest
+           Our Lincoln's tribute to a patriot band,
+           The noblest ever penned by human hand.
+
+           The storms of centuries may lash and beat
+           The granite face and bronze with hail and sleet;
+           But futile all their fury. In a day
+           The loyal sun will melt them all away.
+
+           Equal in death our gallant heroes sleep
+           In Southern trench, home grave, or ocean deep;
+           Equal in glory, fadeless as the light
+           The stars send down upon them through the night.
+           O priceless heritage for us to keep
+           Our heroes' fame immortal while they sleep!
+
+                  .       .       .       .       .
+
+           O God still guide us with thy loving hand,
+           Keep and protect our glorious Fatherland.
+
+
+
+
+             [Illustration: BAS-RELIEF HEAD OF LINCOLN
+
+                       James W. Tuft, Boston]
+
+
+
+
+James Arthur Edgerton, born at Plantsville, Ohio, January 30, 1869.
+Graduated at the Normal University, Lebanon, Ohio, in 1887. One year's
+post-graduate work, Marietta, Ohio, College. Editor county and state
+papers several years; on editorial staff of _Denver News_, 1899-1903;
+American Press Association, New York, 1904; _Watson's Magazine_, 1905.
+Editorial writer _New York American_, 1907; Secretary State Labor
+Bureau of Nebraska, 1895-9; received party vote for clerk United
+States House of Representatives. Author, _Poems_, 1889; _A Better
+Day_, 1890; _Populist Hand-book for 1894_; _Populist Hand-book for
+Nebraska_, 1895; _Voices of the Morning_, 1898; _Songs of the People_,
+1902; _Glimpses of the Real_, 1903; _In the Gardens of God_, 1904.
+
+
+                         WHEN LINCOLN DIED
+
+            When Lincoln died a universal grief
+            Went round the earth. Men loved him in that hour.
+            The North her leader lost, the South her friend;
+            The nation lost its savior, and the slave
+            Lost his deliverer, the most of all.
+            Oh, there was sorrow mid the humble poor
+                      When Lincoln died!
+
+            When Lincoln died a great soul passed from earth,
+            A great white soul, as tender as a child
+            And yet as iron willed as Hercules.
+            In him were strength and gentleness so mixed
+            That each upheld the other. He possessed
+            The patient firmness of a loving heart.
+            In power he out-kinged emperors, and yet
+            His mercy was as boundless as his power.
+            And he was jovial, laughter loving; still
+            His heart was ever torn with suffering.
+            There was divine compassion in the man,
+            A godlike love and pity for his race.
+            The world saw the full measure of that love
+                      When Lincoln died.
+
+            When Lincoln died a type was lost to men.
+            The earth has had her conquerors and kings
+            And many of the common great. Through all
+            She only had one Lincoln. There is none
+            Like him in all the annals of the past.
+            He was a growth of our new soil, a child
+            Of our new time, a symbol of the race
+            That freedom breeds; was of the lowest rank,
+            And yet he scaled the highest height.
+            Mankind one of its few immortals lost
+                      When Lincoln died.
+
+            When Lincoln died it seemed a providence,
+            For he appeared as one sent for a work
+            Whom, when that work was done, God summoned home.
+            He led a splendid fight for liberty,
+            And when the shackles fell the land was saved;
+            He laid his armor by and sought his rest.
+            A glory sent from heaven covered him
+                      When Lincoln died.
+
+
+
+
+                 [Illustration: A STUDY OF LINCOLN
+
+                 From painting by Blendon Campbell]
+
+
+
+
+Amos Russell Wells was born at Glens Falls, New York, December 23,
+1862. His mother removed to Yellow Springs, Ohio, when he was four
+years old, and he received his education at the public school there,
+afterward studying at Antioch College of that town, a college made
+illustrious by its first President, Horace Mann, who died there.
+Graduated in 1883, all by himself, later receiving as Master of Arts,
+also LL.D. He taught for a year in a country district school, then
+entered the faculty of his Alma Mater, where he was a tutor for nine
+years. Was professor of Greek, Geology and Astronomy. He joined the
+Christian Endeavor Society in 1888, and by it was led to become a
+member of the Presbyterian Church at Yellow Springs. When but a boy he
+began to write, and edited numerous journals. Later edited an amateur
+paper, also a town paper. His first paid contribution was a poem
+accepted in 1881 by _The Christian Union_, now _The Outlook_. Wrote
+articles often for _The Golden Rule_, now _The Christian Endeavor
+World_, and for the _Sunday School Times_.
+
+In December, 1891, he went to Boston and became managing editor of
+_The Golden Rule_, a position which he still holds. Since then the
+paper has changed its name and three other papers added--_The Junior
+Christian Endeavor World_, _Junior Work_ and _Union Work_, all edited
+by Mr. Wells. He is also Editorial Secretary of the United Society of
+Christian Endeavor and in editorial charge of all its publications.
+
+Mr. Wells' first book, then entitled _Golden Rule Meditations_, but
+now _The Upward Look_, was published in 1893. Since then every year
+has seen from one to ten additions to his list of productions until
+they now number fifty-eight volumes in all. He is a director of the
+Union Rescue Mission and of the Chinese Mission of Boston. Is a member
+of the American Sunday-School Lesson Committee, an important part of
+his work being his association with Dr. F. N. Peloubet in writing the
+well-known _Select Notes_ on the International Sunday-School Lessons.
+
+
+                         HAD LINCOLN LIVED
+
+                     Had Lincoln lived,
+             How would his hand, so gentle yet so strong,
+             Have closed the gaping wounds of ancient wrong;
+             How would his merry jests, the way he smiled,
+             Our sundered hearts to union have beguiled;
+             How would the South from his just rule have learned
+             That enemies to neighbors may be turned,
+             And how the North, with his sagacious art,
+             Have learned the power of a trusting heart;
+             What follies had been spared us, and what stain,
+             What seeds of bitterness that still remain,
+                     Had Lincoln lived!
+
+                     With Lincoln dead,
+             Ten million men in substitute for one
+             Must do the noble deeds he would have done:
+             Must lift the freedman with discerning care,
+             Nor house him in a castle of the air;
+             Must join the North and South in every good,
+             Fused in co-operating brotherhood;
+             Must banish enmity with his good cheer,
+             And slay with sunshine every rising fear;
+             Like him to dare, and trust, and sacrifice,
+             Ten million lesser Lincolns must arise,
+                     With Lincoln dead.
+
+
+
+
+                [Illustration: THE LINCOLN MEMORIAL
+
+                      Henry Bacon, Architect]
+
+
+The Lincoln Memorial will be the costliest monument to the memory of
+one man ever reared by a republic. The Capitol, at one end of the
+great parkway stretching from Capitol Hill to the Potomac, is a
+monument to the Government; the Lincoln Memorial, at the other end of
+that parkway, is a monument to the savior of that Government; and the
+Washington Monument, standing between, is a monument to its founder.
+The memorial will stand on a broad terrace 45 feet above grade. The
+colonnade will be 188 feet long and 118 feet wide, and will contain 36
+columns, 44 feet high and 7 feet 5 inches in diameter at the base.
+Within the interior of the structure will be three halls. In the
+central hall, which will be 60 feet wide, 70 long, and 60 high, there
+will be a noble statue of Lincoln, while in the two side halls will be
+bronze tablets containing the Great Emancipator's second inaugural
+address and his Gettysburg speech. The George A. Fuller Company of
+Washington are the builders of the Memorial, which will be completed
+in 1917.
+
+
+Samuel Green Wheeler Benjamin, born at Argos, Greece, February 13,
+1837. Was United States Minister to Persia (1883-1885). Assistant
+Librarian in the New York State Library. In 1861-1864 sent two
+companies of cavalry to the war. Served in war hospitals, studied art.
+Art editor of American Department _Magazine of Art_, also of the _New
+York Mail_. Marine painter and illustrator. Among his numerous works
+in prose and verse are _Art in America_, _Contemporary Art in Europe_
+(1877); _Constantinople_ (1860); _Persia and the Persians_ (1866);
+_The Choice of Paris_ (1870), a romance; _Sea Spray_ (1887), a book
+for yachtsmen, etc.
+
+
+                       LET HIS MONUMENT ARISE
+
+                  Let his monument arise,
+                  Pointing upward to the skies,
+                  Founded by a nation's heart,
+                  Grandly shaped in every part
+                  By the master-minds of art,
+                  And consecrated by a nation's tears,
+                  To teach throughout the after-time,
+                  To every tribe, in every clime,
+                  That toil for others is sublime.
+
+
+
+
+INDEX
+
+
+  ALLEN, LYMAN WHITNEY: sketch of, 80;
+    poem, "Lincoln's Church in Washington," by, 81.
+
+  ALLEN, WILLIAM: sketch of, 173;
+    poem, "Springfield's Welcome to Lincoln," by, 173.
+
+  ANTIETAM, LINCOLN AT: photograph, 115.
+
+  "ASSASSINATION OF LINCOLN, ON THE": poem by Henry De Garrs, 200.
+
+
+  B
+
+  BACHE, ANNA: poem, "Lincoln at Springfield, 1861," by, 65, 66.
+
+  BACON, HENRY, architect: Lincoln Memorial at Washington, by, 252.
+
+  BALL, THOMAS, sculptor: "Emancipation Group" in Boston by, 90;
+    in Washington by, 188.
+
+  BATES, EDWARD, Attorney-General: portrait of, in "Lincoln and
+        Cabinet," 206.
+
+  BAXTER, JAMES PHINNEY: sketch of 22;
+    poem, "The Natal Day of Lincoln," by, 22.
+
+  BECKER, CHARLOTTE: sketch of, 61;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 61.
+
+  BENJAMIN, SAMUEL GREEN WHEELER: sketch of, 253;
+    poem, "Let His Monument Arise," by, 253.
+
+  BIBLE, THE: Lincoln's fondness for xvi, xxiii.
+
+  "BIRTH OF LINCOLN, THE": poem by George W. Crofts, 19.
+
+  BISSELL, GEORGE E., sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 231.
+
+  BLAIR, MONTGOMERY, Postmaster-General: portrait of, in "Lincoln
+        and Cabinet," 206.
+
+  BOKER, GEORGE HENRY: sketch of 208;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 209.
+
+  BOOTH, EDWIN: Lincoln discusses his _Hamlet_, xvii-xix.
+
+  BOOTH, J. WILKES: assassin of Lincoln, 138.
+
+  BORGLUM, GUTZON, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 234, 236;
+    marble head of Lincoln by, 240.
+
+  BOSTON: statue of Lincoln in, by Thomas Ball, 90.
+
+  "BOY LINCOLN, THE": picture by Eastman Johnson, 30.
+
+  BRADY, Washington photographer: portraits of Lincoln by,
+        _frontispiece_, 20, 86, 93, 97, 103, 106, 108, 122, 124,
+         128, 134, 170, 210.
+
+
+  "BRONZE MEDAL OF LINCOLN, ON A": poem by Frank Dempster Sherman,
+        239.
+
+  BROWN, STUART: owner of Lincoln portrait, 82.
+
+  BROWN, THERON; sketch of, 94;
+    poem, "The Liberator," by, 94.
+
+  BROWNE, CHARLES F., see WARD, ARTEMUS.
+
+  BRYANT, WILLIAM CULLEN: sketch of, 161;
+    poem, "The Death of Lincoln," by, 161.
+
+  BUFFALO, N. Y.: Lincoln's obsequies at, 168.
+
+  BUGBEE, EMILY J.: "Poetical Tribute to the Memory of Abraham
+        Lincoln," by, 201.
+
+  BURLEIGH, WILLIAM HENRY: sketch of, 53;
+    poem, "Presidential Campaign, 1860," by, 53.
+
+  BURLINGTON, WIS.: statue of Lincoln in, by Ganiere, 228.
+
+  "BUT HERE'S AN OBJECT MORE OF DREAD": poem by Lincoln, viii.
+
+
+  C
+
+  CABIN, LOG, Lincoln's birthplace: picture, 13.
+
+  CABIN OF LINCOLN'S PARENTS: picture, 62;
+    description, 63.
+
+  CAMPBELL, BLENDON, artist: "A Study of Lincoln" by, 249.
+
+  CAPITOL AT WASHINGTON, THE: description of, 72;
+    picture of, 73.
+
+  CARPENTER, FRANK B., painter of "First Reading of the
+        Emancipation Proclamation," xvii, 206;
+    his account of Lincoln as a dramatic critic, xvii.
+
+  CARR, CLARENCE E.: sketch of, 20;
+    poem, "Mendelssohn, Darwin, Lincoln," by, 21.
+
+  CARY, ALICE: sketch of, 130;
+    poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, 131.
+
+  CARY, PHOEBE, sketch of, 210;
+    poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, 211.
+
+  CASSIDY, THOMAS F.: tribute of, to the mother of Lincoln, 25.
+
+  CAWEIN, MADISON: sketch of, 56;
+    poem, "Lincoln, 1809--February 12, 1909," by, 56.
+
+  "CENOTAPH OF LINCOLN, THE": poem by James Mackay, 181.
+
+  CHAPPLE, BENNETT: poem, "The Great Oak," by, 15.
+
+  "CHARACTERIZATION OF LINCOLN, A": poem by Hamilton Schuyler, 87.
+
+  CHASE, SALMON P., Secretary of the Treasury: portrait of, in
+        "Lincoln and Cabinet," 206.
+
+  CHENEY, JOHN VANCE: sketch of, 76;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 77.
+
+  CHICAGO: statue of Lincoln in, by Saint Gaudens, 214.
+
+  "CHILDREN ON THE BORGLUM STATUE": picture, 236.
+
+  CHOATE, ISAAC BASSETT: sketch of, 59;
+    poem, "The Matchless Lincoln," by, 59.
+
+  CITY HALL, NEW YORK, N. Y.: picture and description of, at time
+        of Lincoln obsequies, 162, 166.
+
+  CLAY, HENRY: Lincoln's regard for, vi;
+    his eulogy of, xv.
+
+  CLENDENIN, HENRY WILSON: sketch of, 70;
+    poem, "Lincoln Called to the Presidency," by, 70.
+
+  COOKE, ROSE TERRY: sketch of, 132;
+    poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, 133.
+
+  COOPER UNION SPEECH, by Lincoln; reference to, xii.
+
+  CORNWALLIS, KINAHAN: sketch of, 229;
+    poem, "Homage Due to Lincoln," by, 229.
+
+  COUCH, LOUIS BRADFORD: sketch of, 244;
+    poem, "The Lincoln Boulder," by, 244.
+
+  CRANCH, CHRISTOPHER PEARSE: sketch of, 206;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 207.
+
+  CROFTS, GEORGE W.: sketch of, 19;
+    poem, "The Birth of Lincoln," by, 19.
+
+
+  D
+
+  "DARWIN, MENDELSSOHN, LINCOLN": poem by Clarence E. Carr, 21;
+    portraits of, 20.
+
+  DAVIS, NOAH: sketch of, 17;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 17.
+
+  DEATH OF LINCOLN, 149.
+
+  "DEATH OF LINCOLN": poem by William Cullen Bryant, 161.
+
+  DEATHBED OF LINCOLN: picture of, 144;
+    poem on, 145.
+
+  DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE: Lincoln on, 68.
+
+  "DEDICATION POEM" of Lincoln Monument at Springfield, Ill., by
+        James Judson Lord, 183.
+
+  DICKINSON, CHARLES MONROE: sketch of, 136;
+    poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, 136.
+
+  "DIOGENES AND HIS LANTERN": campaign cartoon of 1860, 55.
+
+  DOUGLAS, STEPHEN A., Senator: Lincoln's opposition to, xvi;
+    attitude of, on the Dred Scott Decision, opposed by Lincoln,
+        42.
+
+  DRED SCOTT DECISION: reference to, 42.
+
+  DUNBAR, PAUL LAWRENCE: sketch of, 128;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 129.
+
+
+  E
+
+  EDGERTON, JAMES ARTHUR: sketch of, 247;
+   poem, "When Lincoln Died," by, 247.
+
+  EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND: Statue of Lincoln in, by Bissell, 231.
+
+  "EMANCIPATION GROUP," statuary designed by Thomas Ball: in
+        Boston, 90;
+    in Washington, 188;
+    poem on, by John Greenleaf Whittier, 91.
+
+  "EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION, FIRST READING OF THE": painting by
+        Frank B. Carpenter, 206.
+
+  "ENGLAND'S SORROW": poem in London _Fun_, 153.
+
+  EUCLID: see GEOMETRY.
+
+  "EYES OF LINCOLN, THE": poem by Walt Mason, 121.
+
+
+  F
+
+  FASSETT, S. M., Chicago photographer: portrait of Lincoln in
+        1858, by, 71.
+
+  "FIRST READING OF THE EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION": painting by
+        Frank B. Carpenter, 206.
+
+  FLANNERY, LOTT, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 199.
+
+  FOLSOM, JOSEPH FULFORD: sketch of, 234;
+    poem, "The Unfinished Work," by, 235.
+
+  FOLTZ, CHARLES G.: sketch of, 98;
+    poem, "On Freedom's Summit," by, 98.
+
+  FORD'S THEATRE: picture of, 138.
+
+  FRENCH, DANIEL CHESTER, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 226.
+
+  FUN, LONDON: poem, "England's Sorrow" in, 153.
+
+  FUNERAL OF LINCOLN, THE, in White House: picture, 154.
+
+  "FUNERAL CAR OF LINCOLN": picture of, 158;
+    poem by Richard Henry Stoddard on, 159.
+
+  "FUNERAL HYMN OF LINCOLN": poem by Phineas Densmore Gurley, 155.
+
+
+  G
+
+  GANIERE, GEORGE E., sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 228.
+
+  GARDNER, Washington photographer: portraits of Lincoln by, 88,
+        95, 112, 118, 130, 132.
+
+  GARRS, HENRY DE: sketch of, 200;
+    poem, "On the Assassination of Lincoln," by, 200.
+
+  GELERT, JOHANNES, sculptor: bust of Lincoln by, iv, v.
+
+  GENTRY, MATTHEW, insane friend of Lincoln: poem by Lincoln on,
+        vii-ix.
+
+  GEOMETRY: favorite study of Lincoln, xii, 63.
+
+  GETTYSBURG, LINCOLN'S SPEECH AT: in prose form, 100;
+    comment by William H. Lambert on, 101;
+    in verse form, xii.
+
+  "GETTYSBURG ODE"; poem by Bayard Taylor, 102.
+
+  GILDER, RICHARD WATSON: sketch of, 45;
+    poem, "On the Life-Mask of Abraham Lincoln," by, 45.
+
+  GILMER, photographer: ambrotype of Lincoln, 1858, by, 40.
+
+  "GLORY, THE, THAT SLUMBERED IN THE GRANITE ROCKS": poem by Ella
+        Wheeler Wilcox, 241.
+
+  GOULD, ELIZABETH PORTER: sketch of, 41;
+    poem, "The Voice of Lincoln," by, 41.
+
+  "GRAVE OF LINCOLN, THE": views of, 178, 180, 182;
+    poem on, by Edna Dean Proctor, 186.
+
+  "GREAT OAK, THE," poem by Bennett Chapple, 14.
+
+  GUITERMAN, ARTHUR: sketch of, 123;
+    poem, "He Leads Us Still," by, 123.
+
+  GURLEY, PHINEAS DENSMORE: sketch of, 155;
+    poem, "The Funeral Hymn of Lincoln," by, 155.
+
+
+  H
+
+  "HAD LINCOLN LIVED": Poem by Amos Russell Wells, 251.
+
+  HAGEDORN, HERMANN: sketch of, 107;
+    poem, "Oh, Patient Eyes!" by, 107.
+
+  HALL, EUGENE J.: poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, 220.
+
+  HALPIN, CHARLES GRAHAM ("Miles O'Reilly"): sketch of, 215;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 216.
+
+  "HAND OF LINCOLN, THE": cast by Leonard W. Volk, 46;
+    poem on, by Edmund Clarence Stedman, 47.
+
+  HANKS, NANCY: see LINCOLN, NANCY HANKS.
+
+  HAY, JOHN, secretary of Lincoln: portrait of, 67.
+
+  "HE LEADS US STILL": poem by Arthur Guiterman, 123.
+
+  HERNDON, WILLIAM H., law partner of Lincoln: presents Lincoln's
+        office chair to O. H. Oldroyd, 36.
+
+  HESLER, Chicago photographer: portrait of Lincoln in 1860, by,
+        58.
+
+  HICKS, painter of Lincoln portrait lithographed for campaign of
+        1860, 49.
+
+  HODGENVILLE, KY.: statue of Lincoln in, by Weinman, 126.
+
+  HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL: sketch of, 170;
+    poem, "Services in Memory of Abraham Lincoln," by, 171;
+    his "Last Leaf," a favorite poem of Lincoln, xi, xxi.
+
+  "HOMAGE DUE TO LINCOLN": poem by Kinahan Cornwallis, 229.
+
+  "HONEST ABE": campaign cartoon of 1860, 55.
+
+  "HONEST ABE OF THE WEST": poem by Edmund Clarence Stedman, 51.
+
+  HOOPER, LUCY HAMILTON: sketch of, 175;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 176.
+
+  "HORATIAN ODE, AN": poem by Richard Henry Stoddard, 29, 159, 193.
+
+  HOSMER, FREDERICK LUCIAN: sketch of, 134;
+     poem, "Lincoln," by, 135.
+
+  "HOUSE WHERE LINCOLN DIED, THE": picture of, 150;
+   poem by Robert Mackay on, 151;
+   Oldroyd collection of Lincoln Memorials at, _Foreword_.
+
+  HOWE, JULIA WARD: sketch of, 14;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 14.
+
+
+  I
+
+  INDEPENDENCE HALL, PHILADELPHIA: speech of Lincoln at, 68;
+    picture of, 69.
+
+  INGMIRE, F. W., photographer: picture of Lincoln Homestead at
+        time of Lincoln's funeral, 172.
+
+  "IN TOKEN OF RESPECT": poem, 152.
+
+
+  J
+
+  JOHNSON, EASTMAN: picture, "The Boy Lincoln," by, 30.
+
+  JOHNSON, WILLIAM, literary friend of Lincoln: Lincoln's letters
+        to, v-ix.
+
+  JOHNSTON, JAMES NICOLL: sketch of, 168;
+    poem, "Requiem," by, 169.
+
+
+  K
+
+  KIMBALL, HARRIET MCEWEN: sketch of, 157;
+    poem, "Rest, Rest, for Him," by, 157.
+
+  KNOX, WILLIAM, Scotch poet: favorite of Lincoln, vi;
+    his poem, "Oh Why Should the Spirit of Mortal Be Proud," ix.
+
+
+  L
+
+  LAMBERT, WILLIAM H.: on Lincoln's Speech at Gettysburg, 101.
+
+  LARCOM, LUCY, sketch of, 164;
+    poem, "Tolling," by, 165.
+
+  "LAST LEAF, THE," by O. W. Holmes: favorite poem of Lincoln, xi,
+        xxi.
+
+  "LEADER OF HIS PEOPLE": poem by William Wilberforce Newton, 32.
+
+  LEIGHTON, ROBERT: poem, "Sic Semper Tyrannis!" by, 139.
+
+  "LET THE PRESIDENT SLEEP": poem by James M. Stewart, 179.
+
+  "LET HIS MONUMENT ARISE": poem by Samuel Green Wheeler Benjamin,
+        253.
+
+  "LIBERATOR, THE": poem by Theron Brown, 94.
+
+  "LIFE-MASK OF LINCOLN, THE": cast by Leonard W. Volk, 44;
+    poem on, by Richard Watson Gilder, 45.
+
+  LINCOLN, ABRAHAM: poems by, v-ix;
+    speeches by, xii-xiv, xv-xvii, xix, xxi-xxiii;
+    lectures by, xix, xx;
+    his favorite poems, vi, ix-xi, xxi;
+    his moral character, xiv-xvii;
+    his literary inspirations, xii, xvi-xix, xxiii, 17;
+    as a dramatic critic, xvii-xix;
+    as a literary artist, xix-xxiii;
+    his taste for humor, xx;
+    birth 13, 14, 15, 17, 19, 21, 22, 74, 109;
+    youth, 14, 17, 29, 31, 32, 46, 47, 142;
+    education, 17, 22, 23, 31, 32, 35;
+    profession, 34, 36, 37, 147, 148;
+    religion, 17, 18, 41, 65, 66, 79, 81, 84, 85, 99, 105, 114,
+        125, 135, 223;
+    statecraft, 14, 18, 23, 29, 33, 37, 38, 42, 47, 48, 57, 59, 70,
+        75, 77, 78, 83, 91, 94, 95, 96, 98, 110, 116, 119, 127,
+        129, 131, 136, 141, 148, 161, 163, 183, 189, 193, 209, 220,
+        223, 229, 232, 241;
+    character, 43, 45, 48, 51, 54, 56, 61, 74, 87, 89, 107, 109,
+        113, 116, 121, 123, 125, 127, 131, 133, 135, 136, 139, 141,
+        148, 174, 176, 189, 200, 201, 209, 211, 216, 220, 223, 227,
+        239, 241;
+    death, 15, 18, 24, 29, 31, 61, 75, 92, 99, 137, 138-207, 211,
+        219, 230, 247, 251.
+
+  "LINCOLN": title of poems by Becker, Charlotte, 61;
+    Boker, George Henry, 209;
+    Cheney, John Vance, 77;
+    Cranch, Christopher Pearse, 207;
+    Dunbar, Paul Lawrence, 129;
+    Davis, Noah, 17;
+    Halpin, Charles Graham, 216;
+    Hooper, Lucy Hamilton, 176;
+    Hosmer, Frederick Lucian, 135;
+    Howe, Julia Ward, 14;
+    Mitchell, S. Weir, 125;
+    Monroe, Harriet, 119;
+    Smith, Wilbur Hazelton, 35;
+    Trowbridge, John Townsend, 227.
+
+  "LINCOLN, ABRAHAM": title of poems by, Cary, Alice, 131;
+    Cary, Phoebe, 211;
+    Cooke, Rose Terry, 133;
+    Dickinson, Charles Monroe, 136;
+    Hall, Eugene J., 200;
+    Sangster, Margaret Elizabeth, 109;
+    Townsend, George Alfred, 127.
+
+  "LINCOLN, ABRAHAM, FOULLY ASSASSINATED": cartoon in London
+        _Punch_, 140;
+    poem by Tom Taylor on, 141.
+
+  LINCOLN, AMBROTYPES OF: 34, 40, 42, 52.
+
+  "LINCOLN AND CABINET": painting by Frank B. Carpenter, 206.
+
+  "LINCOLN AND STANTON": poem by Marion Mills Miller, 148.
+
+  "LINCOLN AS CANDIDATE FOR SENATOR": ambrotype by Gilmer, 1858,
+        40.
+
+  "LINCOLN AT SPRINGFIELD, 1861": poem by Anna Bache, 66.
+
+  "LINCOLN AT THE TIME OF DEBATE WITH DOUGLAS": ambrotype in 1858,
+        42.
+
+  LINCOLN, BAS-RELIEF HEAD OF: by James W. Tuft, 246.
+
+  LINCOLN, BUST OF: by Johannes Gelert, iv.
+
+  "LINCOLN BY THE CABIN FIRE": picture, 16.
+
+  "LINCOLN CALLED TO THE PRESIDENCY": poem by Henry Wilson
+        Clendenin, 70.
+
+  LINCOLN, CARTOONS OF: "Abraham Lincoln Foully Assassinated," 140;
+    "Honest Abe," 55.
+
+  "LINCOLN, 1809--FEBRUARY 12, 1909" poem by Madison Cawein, 56.
+
+  "LINCOLN, 1865": poem by John Nichol, 204.
+
+  LINCOLN, DEATH OF, 149.
+
+  LINCOLN, HAND OF: cast by Leonard W. Volk, 46.
+
+  LINCOLN, HEAD OF: in marble, by Borglum, at Washington, 240.
+
+  "LINCOLN IN HIS OFFICE CHAIR": poem by James Riley, 37.
+
+  LINCOLN, LIFE-MASK OF: by Leonard W. Volk, 44.
+
+  LINCOLN, MEDALLION OF: Bronze Head in Commemoration of Lincoln
+        Centenary, 238.
+
+  "LINCOLN, MENDELSSOHN, DARWIN": poem by Clarence E. Carr, 21;
+    portraits of, 20.
+
+  LINCOLN, MONUMENTS OF: Lincoln Memorial at Washington, by Bacon,
+        Henry, 252;
+    Lincoln Monument in Springfield, Ill., by Mead, Larken G., 182.
+
+  LINCOLN, OFFICE CHAIR OF: picture, 36.
+
+  LINCOLN, PHOTOGRAPHS OF: Brady's, _frontispiece_, 20, 86, 93, 97,
+        103, 106, 108, 122, 124, 128, 134, 170, 210;
+    Fassett's, 71;
+    Gardner's, 88, 95, 112, 118, 130, 132;
+    Gilmer's, 40;
+    Hesler's, 58;
+    by unidentified photographers, 34, 42, 52, 60, 67, 82, 84, 120.
+
+  LINCOLN, PICTURES OF: "Boy Lincoln, The," by Eastman Johnson, 30;
+    "Lincoln, by the Cabin Fire," 16;
+    "Rail Splitter, The," 28.
+
+  "LINCOLN, POETIC SPIRIT OF": introduction by Marion Mills Miller,
+        v.
+
+  LINCOLN, PORTRAIT PAINTINGS OF: "A Study of Lincoln," by
+        Campbell, Blendon, 249;
+    in "Lincoln and Cabinet," by Carpenter, Frank B., 206;
+    by Hicks, 49.
+
+  "LINCOLN, PRESIDENT, TO," poem by Edmund Ollier, 96.
+
+  "LINCOLN'S CHURCH IN WASHINGTON": picture of, 79;
+    poem by Lyman Whitney Allen, 81.
+
+  "LINCOLN, SOLDIER OF CHRIST": poem in _Macmillan's Magazine_, 85.
+
+  LINCOLN, SPEECHES OF: in Independence Hall, Philadelphia, 68;
+    on leaving Springfield, 65.
+
+  LINCOLN, STUDIES OF: by Ball, in Boston, 90, and in Washington,
+        188;
+    by Bissell, in Edinburgh, Scotland, 231;
+    by Borglum in Newark, N. J., 234, 236;
+    by Flannery, in Washington, 199;
+    by French, in Lincoln, Neb., 226;
+    by Ganiere, in Burlington, Wis., 228;
+    by Niehaus, in Muskegon, Mich., 203;
+    by Ream, in Washington, 222;
+    by Rogers, in Philadelphia, 208;
+    by Saint Gaudens, in Chicago, 214;
+    by Weinman, in Hodgenville, Ky., 126;
+    by Volk, 192.
+
+  "LINCOLN THE LABORER": poem by Richard Henry Stoddard, 29.
+
+  "LINCOLN THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE": poem by Edwin Markham, 74.
+
+  "LINCOLN BOULDER, THE": picture of, 243;
+    poem on, by Louis Bradford Couch, 244.
+
+  LINCOLN HOMESTEAD, Springfield, Ill.: picture of, in 1861, 64;
+    in 1865, 172.
+
+  LINCOLN, NANCY HANKS, mother of Lincoln: tomb of, 25;
+    poem on, by Harriet Monroe, 26.
+
+  LINCOLN, NEB.: statue of Lincoln in, by French. 226.
+
+  LINCOLN, SARAH BUSH, stepmother of Lincoln: cabin of, 62;
+    her parting from Lincoln, 63.
+
+  LINCOLN, THOMAS, father of Lincoln: cabin of, 62, 63.
+
+  LINCOLN, THOMAS ("Tad"), son of Lincoln: portrait of, 103.
+
+  LOCKE, DAVID R., see NASBY, PETROLEUM V.
+
+  "LOG CABIN, THE," birthplace of Lincoln: picture of, 13.
+
+  LORD, JAMES JUDSON: sketch of, 183;
+    poem at dedication of Lincoln Monument at Springfield, Ill.,
+        by, 183.
+
+  LOWELL, JAMES RUSSELL: sketch of, 189;
+    poem, "Commemoration Ode," by, 189.
+
+
+  M
+
+  MACKAY, JAMES: sketch of, 181;
+    poem, "The Cenotaph of Lincoln," by, 181.
+
+  MACKAY, ROBERT: sketch of, 151;
+    poem, "The House where Lincoln Died," by, 151.
+
+  MACMILLAN'S MAGAZINE: poem, "Lincoln, Soldier of Christ," in, 85.
+
+  "MAN LINCOLN, THE": poem by Wilbur Dick Nesbit, 113.
+
+  MARKHAM, EDWIN: sketch of, 74;
+    poem, "Lincoln the Man of the People," by, 74.
+
+  "MARTYR PRESIDENT, THE": poem, 219.
+
+  MASON, WALT: sketch of, 121;
+    poem, "The Eyes of Lincoln," by, 121.
+
+  "MASTER, THE": poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson, 116.
+
+  "MATCHLESS LINCOLN, THE": poem by Isaac Bassett Choate, 59.
+
+  MEAD, LARKEN G., architect: Lincoln Monument at Springfield,
+        Ill., by, 182.
+
+  "MENDELSSOHN, DARWIN, LINCOLN": poem by Clarence E. Carr, 21;
+    portraits of, 20.
+
+  MILLER, MARION MILLS: editorial assistance by, in "The Poets'
+        Lincoln," _Acknowledgment_;
+    introduction by, v;
+    sketch of, 146;
+    poem, "Lincoln and Stanton," by, 148.
+
+  MITCHELL, S. WEIR: sketch of, 125;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 125.
+
+  MONROE, HARRIET: sketch of, 26;
+    poems, "Nancy Hanks," 26, and "Lincoln," 119.
+
+  MUSKEGON, MICH.: statue of Lincoln in, by Niehaus, 203.
+
+  "MY CHILDHOOD'S HOME I SEE AGAIN": poem by Lincoln, vi.
+
+
+  N
+
+  "NASBY, PETROLEUM V." (David R. Locke), humorist: Lincoln's
+        fondness for, xx.
+
+  "NATAL DAY OF LINCOLN, THE": poem by James Phinney Baxter, 22.
+
+  NESBIT, WILBUR DICK: sketch of, 113;
+    poem, "The Man Lincoln," by, 113.
+
+  NEWARK, N. J., Statue of Lincoln in, by Borglum, 234, 236.
+
+  NEWTON, WILLIAM WILBERFORCE: sketch of, 32;
+    poem, "Leader of His People," by, 32.
+
+  NEW YORK AVENUE PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, WASHINGTON: picture of, 79.
+
+  NEW YORK CITY: obsequies of Lincoln at, 162, 166.
+
+  NICHOL, JOHN: sketch of, 204;
+    poem, "Lincoln, 1865," by, 204.
+
+  NICOLAY, JOHN G., secretary of Lincoln: his account of Lincoln's
+        lectures, xix;
+    portrait of, 67.
+
+  NIEHAUS, CHARLES, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 202.
+
+  NYACK, N. Y.: Lincoln Boulder at, 243.
+
+
+  O
+
+  OAK RIDGE CEMETERY, SPRINGFIELD, ILL.: views in, 178, 180.
+
+  "O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!" poem by Walt Whitman, 197.
+
+  "ODE" on Lincoln's obsequies: by Henry T. Tuckerman, 163.
+
+  "OH, PATIENT EYES!" poem by Hermann Hagedorn, 107.
+
+  "OH, WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL BE PROUD?" by William Knox,
+        favorite poem of Lincoln, vi, ix.
+
+  OLDROYD, OSBORN H.: editor of "The Poets' Lincoln"; his purpose,
+        _Foreword_;
+    his collection of Lincoln memorials, _Foreword_;
+    owner of Lincoln's office chair, 36.
+
+  OLLIER, EDMUND: poem, "To President Lincoln," by, 96.
+
+  "ONE OF OUR PRESIDENTS": poem by Wendell Phillips Stafford, 237.
+
+  "ON FREEDOM'S SUMMIT": poem by Charles G. Foltz, 98.
+
+  "O'REILLY, MILES," see HALPIN, CHARLES GRAHAM.
+
+
+  P
+
+  "PEACEFUL LIFE, A": poem by James Whitcomb Riley, 31.
+
+  PHELPS, ELIZABETH STUART: sketch of, 43;
+    poem, "The Thoughts of Lincoln," by, 43.
+
+  PHILADELPHIA: speech of Lincoln at, 68;
+    statue of Lincoln in, by Rogers, 208;
+    tablet to Lincoln in, 218.
+
+  PIATT, JOHN JAMES: sketch of, 83;
+    poem, "Sonnet in 1862," by, 83.
+
+  "POETICAL TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN": by Emily J.
+        Bugbee, 201.
+
+  "POETIC SPIRIT OF LINCOLN": introduction by Marion Mills Miller,
+        v.
+
+  POLK, JAMES K., President: Lincoln's arraignment of, xvi.
+
+  "PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN, 1860": poem by William Henry Burleigh, 53.
+
+  PROCTOR, EDNA DEAN: sketch of, 186;
+    poem, "The Grave of Lincoln," by, 186.
+
+  PUNCH, LONDON: poem on "Abraham Lincoln Foully Assassinated," in,
+        140.
+
+
+  R
+
+  "RAIL SPLITTER, THE": picture, 28.
+
+  REAM VINNIE, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 222.
+
+  REPEAL OF MISSOURI COMPROMISE: Lincoln's speech on, xv-xvii.
+
+  REPUBLICAN CONVENTION OF 1860: reference to, 50.
+
+  "REQUIEM": poem by James Nicoll Johnston, 169.
+
+  "REQUIEM OF LINCOLN": poem by Richard Storrs Willis, 167.
+
+  "REST, REST FOR HIM": poem by Harriet McEwen Kimball, 157.
+
+  RILEY, JAMES: sketch of, 37;
+    poem, "Lincoln in His Office Chair," by, 37.
+
+  RILEY, JAMES WHITCOMB: sketch of, 31;
+    poem, "A Peaceful Life," by, 31.
+
+  ROBINSON, EDWIN ARLINGTON: sketch of, 116;
+    poem, "The Master," by, 116.
+
+  ROGERS, RANDOLPH, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 208.
+
+  ROTUNDA, CITY HALL, NEW YORK: picture of, at time of Lincoln's
+        obsequies, 166.
+
+
+  S
+
+  SAINT GAUDENS, AUGUSTUS, sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 214,
+        215.
+
+  ST. JAMES HALL, BUFFALO, N. Y.: picture of, at time of Lincoln
+        obsequies, 168.
+
+  SANGSTER, MARGARET ELIZABETH: sketch of, 109;
+    poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, 109.
+
+  SCHUYLER, HAMILTON: sketch of, 87;
+    poem, "A Characterization of Lincoln," by, 87.
+
+  "SCOTLAND STATUE, THE": poem by David K. Watson, 232.
+
+  "SECOND INAUGURAL, LINCOLN'S": poem by Benjamin Franklin Taylor,
+        104.
+
+  "SERVICES IN MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN": poem by Oliver Wendell
+        Holmes, 171.
+
+  SEWARD, WILLIAM H., Secretary of State: suggests closing passage
+        of Lincoln's First Inaugural, xxii-xxiii;
+    portrait in "Lincoln and Cabinet," 206.
+
+  SHAKESPEARE: Lincoln's fondness for, xvi-xix.
+
+  SHERMAN, FRANK DEMPSTER: sketch of, 239;
+    poem, "On a Bronze Medal of Lincoln," by, 239.
+
+  "SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS!", poem by Robert Leighton, 139.
+
+  SLAVERY: Lincoln on, xii, xv-xvii;
+    the Dred Scott Decision, 42;
+    Lincoln the emancipator, 90, 91, 94, 96, 98, 152, 161, 184,
+        187, 221, 229, 232, 241.
+
+  SMITH, SAMUEL FRANCIS: sketch of, 222;
+    poem, "The Tomb of Lincoln," by, 223.
+
+  SMITH, WILBUR HAZELTON: sketch of, 35;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 35.
+
+  "SONNET in 1862": poem by John James Piatt, 83.
+
+  SPEED, LUCY G.: autographed portrait of himself given by Lincoln to, 84.
+
+  SPRINGFIELD, ILL.: homestead of Lincoln at, 64, 172;
+    Lincoln's funeral at, 172-181;
+    state capitol at, 175;
+    public vault in Oak Ridge cemetery at, 178, 180;
+    monument to Lincoln at, 182.
+
+  "SPRINGFIELD'S WELCOME TO LINCOLN": poem by William Allen, 173.
+
+  STAFFORD, WENDELL PHILLIPS: sketch of, 236;
+    poem, "One of Our Presidents," by, 237;
+    reference to, 80.
+
+  STANTON, EDWIN M.: tribute to Lincoln dead, 144, 147;
+    portrait, 146;
+    poem on, 148;
+    portrait of, in "Lincoln and Cabinet," 206.
+
+  STEDMAN, EDMUND CLARENCE: sketch of, 47;
+    poem, "The Hand of Lincoln," by, 47;
+    poem, "Honest Abe of the West," by, 51.
+
+  STEVENS, HIRAM F.: tribute to Lincoln by, 219.
+
+  STEWART, JAMES M.: poem, "Let the President Sleep," by, 179.
+
+  STICKLE, THOMPSON: designer of monument of Nancy Hanks Lincoln,
+        25.
+
+  STODDARD, RICHARD HENRY: sketch of, 193;
+    passages from his "Horatian Ode," 29, 159, 193.
+
+  "STUDY OF LINCOLN, A": painting by Blendon Campbell, 249.
+
+
+  T
+
+  TAYLOR, BAYARD: sketch of 102;
+    poem, "Geyttsburg Ode," by, 102.
+
+  TAYLOR, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN: sketch of, 104;
+    poem, "Lincoln's Second Inaugural," by, 104.
+
+  TAYLOR, TOM: poem, "Abraham Lincoln, Foully Assassinated," by,
+        141.
+
+  "THOUGHTS OF LINCOLN, THE": poem by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, 43.
+
+  TIEFENTHALER, JOSEPHINE OLDROYD, child guide in the "House where
+        Lincoln Died": portrait, 150;
+    reference to, 151, 152.
+
+  "TOMB OF LINCOLN, THE": poem by Samuel Francis Smith, 223.
+
+  TOWNSEND, GEORGE ALFRED: sketch of, 126;
+    poem, "Abraham Lincoln," by, 127.
+
+  TROWBRIDGE, JOHN TOWNSEND: sketch of, 227;
+    poem, "Lincoln," by, 227.
+
+  TUCKERMAN, HENRY T.: sketch of, 163;
+    "Ode" on Lincoln's obsequies, by, 163.
+
+  TUFT, JAMES W., sculptor: bas-relief Head of Lincoln by, 246.
+
+
+  U
+
+  "UNFINISHED WORK, THE": Poem by Joseph Fulford Folsom, 235.
+
+  UNION, THE: Lincoln on, 100, 102.
+
+  USHER, J. P., Secretary of the Interior: portrait of, in "Lincoln
+        and Cabinet," 206.
+
+
+  V
+
+  "VOICE OF LINCOLN, THE," Poem by Elizabeth Porter Gould, 41.
+
+  VOLK, LEONARD W., sculptor: Life-Mask of Lincoln by, 44;
+    cast of Hand of Lincoln by, 46;
+    statue of Lincoln by, 192.
+
+
+  W
+
+  WARD, ARTEMUS (Charles F. Browne) humorist: Lincoln's fondness
+        for, xx.
+
+  WASHINGTON, D. C.: statues of Lincoln in, by Ball, 188;
+    Flannery, 199;
+    Ream, 222;
+    marble head of Lincoln by Borglum, in, 240;
+    Lincoln Memorial by Bacon in, 252;
+    picture of Capitol, 73;
+    of White House, 76;
+    funeral of Lincoln in, 154.
+
+  WASHINGTON, GEORGE: Lincoln's poetic tribute to, xix.
+
+  WATSON, DAVID K.: sketch of, 232;
+    poem, "The Scotland Statue," by, 232.
+
+  WEBSTER, DANIEL: originator of closing sentence of Lincoln's
+        Gettysburg speech, xxi, xxii.
+
+  WEINMANN, ADOLPH A., sculptor: statue of Lincoln by, 126.
+
+  WELLES, GIDEON, Secretary of the Navy: portrait of, in "Lincoln
+        and Cabinet," 206.
+
+  WELLS, AMOS RUSSELL: sketch of, 250;
+    poem, "Had Lincoln Lived," by, 251.
+
+  "WHEN LINCOLN DIED": poem by James Arthur Edgerton, 247.
+
+  "WHERE LINCOLN WORSHIPPED": picture of N. Y. Ave. Presbyterian
+        Church, Washington, 79.
+
+  WHITE HOUSE AT WASHINGTON: picture and description of, 76;
+    funeral of Lincoln in, 154.
+
+  WHITMAN, WALT: autographed portrait of, 196;
+    sketch of, 197;
+    poem, "O Captain! My Captain!" by, 197.
+
+  WHITNEY, HENRY C.: author of "Life of Lincoln," v;
+    on Lincoln's poetic sensibility, xi, xxi;
+    on his habit of reading, 16;
+    on Lincoln as a lawyer, 34.
+
+  WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAF: sketch of, 91;
+    poem, "The Emancipation Group," by, 91;
+    reference to, v.
+
+  "WIGWAM, THE," Republican convention hall, Chicago, 1860:
+        picture of, 50.
+
+  WILCOX, ELLA WHEELER: sketch of, 241;
+    poem, "The Glory that Slumbered in the Granite Rock," by, 241.
+
+  WILLIS, RICHARD STORRS: sketch of, 167;
+    poem, "Requiem of Lincoln," by, 167.
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
+
+
+Every effort has been made to faithfully reproduce the original book
+in this etext. The inconsistent, alternate and archaic spelling and
+usage that one would expect in a collection of poets and authors from
+1915 and earlier have been preserved. Errors in the Index, obvious
+and simple enough to be assumed typesetter's errors, have been
+corrected. Other problems and corrections are listed below.
+
+    Page:     1
+    Text:     extends his grateful acknowledgment
+    Change:   acknowledgement changed to acknowledgment (to match
+              spelling of section title)
+
+    Page:     6
+    Text:     Abraham Lincoln Foully Assassinated, by Tom Taylor
+    Change:   removed comma after Taylor
+
+    Page:     11
+    Text:     The Funeral of Lincoln, in East Room of White House
+    Change:   removed comma after White House
+
+    Page:     xvi
+    Text:     Yours truly,
+    Change:   Comma added
+
+    Page:     xvii
+    Text:     It matters not to me whether Shakspeare be well or
+                      ill acted
+    Change:   Shakespeare changed to Shakspeare (alternate spelling
+                      used by Carpenter)
+
+    Page:     xx
+    Text:     performed this function in a still more
+    Change:   added the word "in"
+
+    Page:     22
+    Text:     Like all great souls with vision unobscured
+    Change:   version changed to vision
+
+    Page:     116
+    Text:     May be forgotten by and by
+    Change:   fogotten changed to forgotten
+
+    Page:     117
+    Text:     Shrewd, hallowed, harassed
+    Change:   harrassed changed to harassed
+
+    Page:     172
+    Text:     (5) Hon. W. H. Wallace, Idaho
+    Change:   Walace change to Wallace
+
+    Page:     172
+    Text:     (3) Hon. Lyman Trumbull, Illinois
+    Change:   Hon changed to Hon.
+
+    Page:     189
+    Text:     And hang my wreath on his world-honored urn
+    Change:   wealth changed to wreath
+
+    Page:     216
+    Text:     He filled the Nation's eyes and heart
+    Change:   We changed to He
+
+    Page:     216
+    Text:     Pathetic, kindly, droll or stern
+    Change:   added comma after Pathetic
+
+    Page:     223
+    Text:     Here, Captain! dear Father!
+    Change:   Hear changed to Here
+
+    Page:     243
+    Text:     funds to remove it from
+    Change:   extra "to" removed
+
+    Page:     252
+    Text:     The George A. Fuller Company of Washington
+    Change:   removed comma after Company
+
+    Harper's Bazar (page 109) did not change the spelling to Bazaar
+    until about 1929.
+
+    No poet is mentioned for "The Deathbed" on page 145. However,
+    this poem seems to be "Now He Belongs to the Ages" by William L.
+    Stidger, from The Lincoln Book of Poems, published by R. G.
+    Badger, copyright 1911, page 30. (available on archive.org)
+
+    Pages v, vi and vii refer to Lincoln's correspondent as both
+    Johnson and Johnston. Left as printed.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poets' Lincoln, by Various
+
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author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-14 19:53:45 -0700
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