THE MERCHANTS' MAGAZINE AND COMMERCIAL REVIEW. MAY, 1865. ABRAHAM LINCOLN. BY MATTHEW HALE SMITH. THE past month will ever be most remarkable in our country's history as furnishing perhaps its brightest and darkest pages, illustrating in that short period the two extremes of intense national joy and intense national grief. The lights and shadows of the picture could not be more strongly marked. Victory after victory had filled all hearts with gladness, until, at length, this most formidable rebellion was left without a capital, without a government, without a military organization, and one earnest, united, joyful hallelujah of a country saved re-echoed throughout the length and breadth of the land. Then, as if to add one more drop to the full cup of happiness, came the welcome proclamation that no further armies were needed, for peace was at hand. With how light a heart each one went through his daily duties on that fourteenth of April! The gray-haired man looked younger, and the child's laugh sounded merrier than for many a weary month and year before, and on all sides could be heard the earnest, joyful prayerGod bless ABRAHAM LINCOLN. But, before midnight, came the announcement of the death of the very one upon whom every eye was fastened, and about whom a nation's hopes were clustered. Nor was it to him a peaceful folding of the hands to sleep, but an unnatural, violent, cruel end, at the hand of a cowardly assassin. To portray the sudden grief thus brought upon the nation is impossible. Every face showed it, every voice spoke it, and, instead of yesterday's rejoicing, a cloud of profound sorrow darkened the entire land. The head was stricken, and all the members of the national body quivered with agony. THE DAY BEFORE THE ASSASSINATION. Everything relating to Mr. LINCOLN, especially to the closing days of his eventful life, has a mournful interest at this time. It was the privilege of the writer to be at the executive mansion on Thursday, the day before the assassination. Since the inauguration, the President has been run down with calls of all descriptions. Before the morning mail was assorted, and sometimes before the President had breakfasted, office seekers and their associates would be roaming round the White House, invading the private apartments in search of Mr. LINCOLN. His good nature and kindness of heart induced him to give an audience to almost every one who sought it, till the raid on his rooms became a positive nuisance, and hindered public business, and denied to the President any moments of leisure. If the heads of department of the City of New York find it impossible to transact public business unless the public are shut out, and calls limited in business hours to those only who have business with the departments; if our leading merchants, among whom are STEWART, and men of his range of business, are compelled to put a guard at their doors, and demand of all comers, for what they call, that their business may be transacted-how much more should the President of the United States be protected against that which is more burdensome than all the duties of his office, and which, in more than one instance, has literally worn the executive into the grave. On reaching the White House, a few minutes before ten o'clock-the hour appointed for public reception-a crowd was seen on the front steps awaiting the opening of the doors. A placard hanging from the bell handle announced that "positively no person admitted till ten o'clock." On the opening of the doors a rush was made for the Chamber of Audience, resembling a rush for dinner on board an over-crowded steamboat. The ante-chamber presented a sight. Senators, members of Congress, governors, judges, lawyers, generals, corporals, office-holders, office-seekers, sick soldiers and lame, colored men and boys. There were seats for four persons, and there were fifty persons in the room. Men sat on the window sill, on the steps, on the wood-box, and on a champagne basket. Some reclined on the floor, and some walked impatiently about. Many had been in attendance for twenty-four hours, and some for twenty-four days. They had sent in their cards daily, and waited for the moving of the waters, no-wise discouraged though another stepped in before them. Every card was taken in by the gentlemanly usher, and laid before the President, and his face glowed with satisfaction whose name was announced with the assurance the President "will see you, Sir." Members of the Cabinet were coming and going all day. They had the preference over all others, and were admitted without question or announcement. While the crowd were waiting for an interview, a gentleman walked up the stairs unattended, passed through the ante-chamber, and into the room of the private Secretary of the President. He seemed about fifty years of age, tall, well built, with black hair, without whiskers or mustache. He was genteely dressed in a black frock, pants, and satin vest. His appearance would attract attention anywhere as that of a man of mark. He spoke to no one, no one spoke to him. With his head inclined, like one on whom grave cares rested, he entered and closed the door of the room adjoining that in which the President sat. It was casually remarked, "That is ANDY JOHNSON, the Vice-President." He was not then in power. No one supposed him of consequence enough to be spoken to. Had those courtiers known what a day would bring forth, they would have asked the privilege of removing the dust from Mr. JOHNSON's boots. Those who were fortunate enough to obtain access to the President's room that day could not fail to notice his robust health, his genial spirit, and unbounded humor, |