LITMIR.BIZ

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to fact and right, will live in the hearts and minds of the whole Anglo-Saxon race, as one of the noblest examples of that race's highest qualities. Add to all this that Abraham Lincoln was the humblest and pleasantest of men, that he had raised himself from nothing, and that to the last no grain of conceit or ostentation was found in him, and there stands before the world a man whose like we shall not soon look upon again."

      In the remarks of M. Rouher, the French Minister, in the Legislative Assembly, on submitting to that Assembly the official despatch of the French Foreign Minister to the Chargé at Washington, M. Rouher remarked, of Mr. Lincoln's personal character, that he had exhibited "that calm firmness and indomitable energy which belong to strong minds, and are the necessary conditions of the accomplishment of great duties. In the hour of victory he exhibited generosity, moderation and conciliation."

      And in the despatch, which was signed by M. Drouyn de L'Huys, were the following expressions: "Abraham Lincoln exhibited, in the exercise of the power placed in his hands, the most substantial qualities. In him, firmness of character was allied to elevation of principle. * * * In reviewing these last testimonies to his exalted wisdom, as well as the examples of good sense, of courage, and of patriotism, which he has given, history will not hesitate to place him in the rank of citizens who have the most honored their country."

      In the Prussian Lower House, Herr Loewes, in speaking of the news of the assassination, said that Mr. Lincoln "performed his duties without pomp or ceremony, and relied on that dignity of his inner self alone, which is far above rank, orders and titles. He was a faithful servant, not less of his own commonwealth than of civilization, freedom and humanity."

      By far the most beautiful of all these foreign tributes, was the very generous memorial of the London Punch. That paper had joined all the fashionable world in making merry at Lincoln's expense while he struggled, weary and miry, through the "valley of humiliation,"—but it is not every one who does a wrong who is capable of so full and generous a reparation. We give it entire, because, apart from its noble spirit, it is one of the most truthful summaries of Lincoln's character:

      You lay a wreath on murdered Lincoln's bier! You, who with mocking pencil wont to trace, Broad for the 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, scurril-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 learned 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 turn's the lumberer's axe,

       The rapid, that o'erbears the boatman'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 darkling 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.

      Lincoln must be looked upon in the final review of his character, as one of those men elect of God, whom he calls and chooses to effect great purposes of his own, and fashions and educates with especial reference to that purpose. As is usual in such cases, the man whom God chooses for a work is not at all the man whom the world beforehand would choose, and often for a time the world has difficulty in receiving him. There was great questioning about him in the diplomatic circles of Europe, when the war began, and there was great searching of heart concerning him at home. There have been times when there were impatient murmurs that another sort of man was wanted in his chair—a man with more dash, more brilliancy, more Napoleonic efficiency. Yet in the contest such a man might have been our ruin. A brilliant military genius might have wrecked the republic on the rock of military despotism, where so many good ships have gone down; whereas, slow, cautious, honest old Abe only took our rights of habeas corpus, and other civil privileges, as he did the specie of old, to make the legal tender, and brought it all back safe and sound.

      Lincoln was a strong man, but his strength was of a peculiar kind; it was not aggressive so much as passive, and among passive things it was like the strength not so much of a stone buttress as of a wire cable. It was strength swaying to every influence, yielding on this side and on that to popular needs, yet tenaciously and inflexibly bound to carry its great end. Probably by no other kind of strength

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