cannot be challenged or disallowed; like the hirsute and half-naked Brennus striding into the grave and reverend decorum of a Roman senate; like Hans Luther's plebeian and beetle-browed son confronting the stoled, mitred, and ermined Diet of Charles the Fifth; like a red-nosed, cropped, and mail-clad Cromwell, shuffling through the silken splendors, the Vandyke dresses, the perfumed lovelocks, and the fastidious etiquette, of outraged Whitehall; like St. Artegans' iron soldier, marching with his invincible flail into the startled and shrinking ranks of vulnerable and pain-suffering warriors."

One aim of this volume is to give a true picture of Abraham Lincoln as a man, and the concurrent testimony of various contemporaries is exceedingly valuable. The "New-York World," which, while he lived, was ever opposed to his cause and policy, thus spoke of the people's choice when death had set its seal upon his virtues:

"If we look for the elements of character which have contributed to the extraordinary and constantly growing popularity of Mr. Lincoln, we have not far to seek. The kindly, companionable, jovial turn of his disposition, free from every taint of affectation, puerile vanity, or parvenu insolence, conveyed a strong impression of worth, sense, and solidity, as well as goodness of heart. He never disclosed the slightest symptom that he was dazzled or elated by his great position, or that it was incumbent upon him to be anybody but plain Abraham Lincoln. This was in infinitely better taste than would have been any attempt to put on manners that did not sit easily upon his training and habits, under the false notion that he would be supporting the dignity of his office. No offence in manners is so intolerable as affectation, nor any thing so vulgar as a soul haunted by an uneasy consciousness of vulgarity. Mr. Lincoln's freedom from any such

upstart affectations was one of the good points of his character: it betokened his genuineness and sincerity."

On the 11th of February, 1861, the President elect left his home in Springfield for Washington. A vast crowd attended him at the depot; and before the cars started he thus addressed a few farewell words to his neighbors and friends:

"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 perhaps greater 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 in the same Almighty Being I place my reliance for support; and I hope you, my friends, will all pray that I may receive that divine assistance, without which I cannot succeed, but with which success is certain. Again I bid you all an affectionate farewell."

All along the route to the Capitol, multitudes assembled at the railway stations to greet him, and on several occasions he addressed them in few but happily chosen words.

At Toledo, in response to continual calls, he appeared on the platform, and said, "I am leaving you on an errand of national importance, attended, as you are aware, with considerable difficulties. Let us believe, as some poet has expressed it,

Behind the cloud the sun is shining still.'

I bid you an affectionate farewell."

At Indianapolis, Mr. Lincoln was welcomed by the Governor of the State, and escorted by a procession composed of the Legislature, municipal authorities, military, and firemen. On reaching the hotel, he addressed the people in his own homely and humorous but sensible manner, giving some intimation of the policy he would

pursue:

"FELLOW-CITIZENS OF THE STATE OF INDIANA,- I am here to thank you for this magnificent welcome, and still more for the very generous support given by your State to that political cause, which, I think, is the true and just cause of the whole country and the whole world. Solomon says, 'There is a time to keep silence;' and when men wrangle by the mouth, with no certainty that they mean the same thing while using the same words, it perhaps were as well if they would keep silence.

6

"The words 'coercion' and 'invasion' are much used in these days, and often with some temper and hot blood. Let us make sure, if we can, that we do not misunderstand the meaning of those who use them. Let us get the exact definition of these words, not from dictionaries, but from the men themselves, who certainly deprecate the things they would represent by the use of the words. What, then, is coercion'? what is invasion'? Would the marching of an army into South Carolina, without the consent of her people, and with hostile intent toward them, be invasion? I certainly think it would, and it would be coercion also if the South Carolinians were forced to submit. But if the United States should merely hold and retake its own forts and other property, and collect the duties on foreign importations, or even withhold the mails from places where they were habitually violated, would any or all of these things be invasion or coercion? Do our professed lovers of the Union, who

spitefully resolve that they will resist coercion and in vasion, understand that such things as these, on the part of the United States, would be coercion or invasion of a State? If so, their idea of means to preserve the object of their great affection would seem to be exceedingly thin and airy. If sick, the little pills of the homoeopathist would be much too large for it to swallow. In their view, the Union, as a family relation, would seem to be no regular marriage, but rather a sort of free-love atrangement, to be maintained on passional attraction.

"By the way, in what consists the special sacredness of a State? I speak not of the position assigned to a State in the Union by the Constitution, for that is a bond we all recognize. That position, however, a State cannot carry out of the Union with it. I speak of that assumed primary right of a State to rule all which is less than itself, and to ruin all which is larger than itself. If a State and a county, in a given case, should be equal in number of inhabitants, in what, as a matter of principle, is the State better than the county? Would an exchange of name be an exchange of rights? Upon what principle, upon what rightful principle, may a State, being no more than one-fiftieth part of the nation in soil and population, break up the nation, and then coerce a proportionably large sub-division of itself in the most arbitrary way? What mysterious right to play tyrant is conferred on a district or county, with its people, by simply calling it a State? Fellow-citizens, I am not asserting any thing: I am merely asking questions for you to consider. And now allow me to bid you farewell."

At Cincinnati, the President elect received a most enthusiastic welcome. He was escorted to the Burnet House by the Mayor of the city, who addressed him in words of welcome, to which he made a fitting response.

At Columbus also he received a cordial welcome, and spoke briefly. At Steubenville he also made a brief address. He spoke also at Pittsburg and Cleveland; but the limits of this volume forbid the insertion of all these peeches. Ex-President Fillmore headed the citizenhost who greeted him at Buffalo, and the Mayor welcomed him in words. At Albany he was conducted to the Capitol, and welcomed by Gov. Morgan. At Poughkeepsie he was welcomed by the Mayor, and also in New York. It is said that the reception in that commercial metropolis was "a most imposing demonstration places of business were generally closed, and hundreds of thousands were in the streets." At Trenton he tarried a few hours, and visited both houses of the Legislature. He addressed the Senate as fol lows:

“MR. PRESIDENT, AND GENTLEMEN OF THE

SENATE OF THE STATE OF NEW JERSEY,

"I am very grateful to you for the honorable reception of which I have been the object. I cannot but remember the place that New Jersey holds in our early history. In the early Revolutionary struggle, few of the States among the old Thirteen had more of the battlefields of the country within its limits than old New Jersey. May I be pardoned, if, upon this occasion, I mention that away back in my childhood, the earliest days of my being able to read, I got hold of a small book, such a one as few of the younger members have ever seen,-Weems's 'Life of Washington'? I remember all the accounts there given of the battle-fields and struggles for the liberty of the country; and none fixed themselves upon my imagination so deeply as the struggle here at Trenton, New Jersey. The crossing of the river, the