a law-office at Springfield or Chicago, and practise law, and at least do enough to help give us a livelihood.”  Such were the dreams of Abraham Lincoln the last day of his life.  The whole world knows the remainder of the story,—­of that terrible night at the theatre; of that passing away in the early dawn of the morning; of that sad and mournful passage from the Capitol to the grave at Oak Ridge Cemetery.  It is painful to dwell upon it; it makes the heart faint even to recall it.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN needs no eulogy.  There is but one other name in American history which can be mentioned with his as that of a peer,—­the name of Washington.  He was as pure, and just, and as patriotic as the Father of his Country.  He was born of his time, a creature of the age of giants, a genius from the people, all the greater for his struggles, for he really did more than any man of his day to destroy caste and give courage to the lowly; and therein he wrote the brightest pages of progress.  The shaft that marks his silent resting-place, the books he read, the office he used, the strong body that covered his warm heart and wise purposes, were only the outer symbols to the higher gifts of his Creator.  All gifts and graces are not found in one person.  He is great in whom the good predominates.  All persons are not born equal.  Gifts are diversified; but if ever a man had the “genius of greatness,” it was Abraham Lincoln.  As all are eloquent in that which they know, he was eloquent in what he both knew and did.

A few words more.  The President left a heart-broken widow, a woman whose intellect was shattered by one of the most awful shocks in human history.  No mind can picture the agonies which she suffered, even till the day of her death, on July 16, 1882.  I make mention of her now, because, during her eventful life in Washington and afterwards, she was most cruelly treated by a portion of the press and people.  I can conceive of nothing so unmanly, so devoid of every chivalric impulse, as the abuse of this poor, wounded, and bereft woman.  But I am reminded of the splendid outburst of eloquence on the part of Edmund Burke, when, speaking of the heart-broken Queen of France, he said:—­

“Little did I dream that I should live to see such disasters fall upon her in a nation of gallant men,—­a nation of men of honor, cavaliers.  I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards to avenge even a look that threatened her with insult.  But the age of chivalry is gone.”

“Lincoln was incontestably the greatest man I ever knew.  What marked him was his sincerity, his kindness, his clear insight into affairs, his firm will and clear policy.  I always found him preeminently a clear-minded man.  The saddest day of my life was that of Lincoln’s assassination.”—­U.S.  GRANT.

[The death of GENERAL GRANT has occurred since this article was put into type.—­Ed.]

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