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The President suffered, too, when the fate of war overtook his personal friends, and they that drew the sword perished by the sword. With his great heart of sympathy, he felt for all who mourned the loss of father, son, brother, husband, or friend; but there must, of course, have been for him peculiar trials in the death of those whom he personally knew and loved. Col. Baker, the senator from California, who deemed it his duty to lay aside the toga, and buckle on the sword, was one of the friends whom he was called to lose when our brave boys were defeated at Ball's Bluff.* A lady correspondent of the "San-Francisco Bulletin " thus alludes to a conversation which she had with the President, at the Soldiers' Home, near Washington, in which they referred to Col. Baker, and felt his loss:

"I had always noticed that the bare mention of our California cemetery filled the minds of those who heard it with a solemn sense of awe and sorrow,- Lone Mountain! It seemed to rise before them out of the quiet sea, a vast mausoleum from the hand of God wherein to lay the dead. I was not astonished, therefore, when Mr. Lincoln alluded to it in this way, and gave, in a few deep-toned words, a eulogy on one of its most honored dead, — Col. Baker. Having witnessed the impressive spectacle of that glorious soldier's funeral, I gave him the meagre outline one can convey in words, of something, which, having been once seen, must remain a living picture in the memory forever. I tried to picture the solemn hush that lay like a pall on the spirit of the people while the grand procession wound its mournful length through the streets of the city, out on that

* Once Lincoln said the keenest blow of all the war was at an early stage, when the disaster of Ball's Bluff and the death of his beloved Baker smote him like a whirlwind from the desert.

tear-stained road, to the gate of the cemetery, where the body passed beneath the prophetic words of the most eloquent soul, 'Hither, in the future ages, they shall bring,' &c.

"When I spoke of the California apostle, Starr King, I saw how strong a chord I had touched in the great appreciative heart I addressed; and, giving a weak dilution of that wondrous draught of soul-lit eloquence, that funeral hymn uttered by the priest of God over the sacred ashes of the advocate and soldier of liberty, whose thrilling threnody seems yet to linger in the sighing wind that waves the grass upon the soil made sacred by the treasure it received that day, I felt strangely impressed as to the power and grandeur of that mind whose thoughts at second-hand, and haltingly given from memory, should move and touch the soul of such a man as Abraham Lincoln, as I saw it touched when he listened. It is the electric chain with which all genius and grand. eur of soul whatsoever is bound; the free-masonry by which spirit hails spirit, though unseen. Now they all three meet where it is not seeing through a glass darkly,' but in the light of a perfect day."

The President was also and earlier personally afflicted, when,

"Down where the patriot-army,

Near Potomac's tide,

Guards the glorious cause of Freedom,

Gallant Ellsworth died."

This brave and remarkably efficient young officer had been associated with the President when in Illinois; and at his funeral, which took place at the White House, the President was the chief mourner.

"Bold leader of the Zouave band!

A name not written in the sand, -
Thou, dying, leav'st thy native land.

In Freedom's annals, side by side,
Thy name with Warren's is allied,
The tyrant's dread, the patriot's pride!

The marble shaft for each we raise;

For each the poet pours his lays;

Time wreathes for both unwithering bays."

But there was one stroke nearer home than all which were among the peculiar trials of our beloved Chief Magistrate. Once before, the nation sympathized with a father and mother who must tread the halls of the White House without the echoes of familiar footsteps at their side. President Pierce and President Lincoln both knew what it was to wear the robe of royalty, as it were, over a bleeding heart. The nation sympathized when little Willie Lincoln died; and on the day when, all over the land, citizens assembled, in response to the President's request, that the "Farewell Address" of Washington might be read, the head of the nation sat bowed with grief over the dear remains of his darling

son.

The following was addressed to the Senate and House; but Congress had adjourned before it was delivered:

"The President of the United States was last evening plunged into affliction by the death of a beloved child. The heads of departments, in consideration of this distressing event, have thought it would be agreeable to Congress and to the American people that the official and private buildings occupied by them should not be illuminated on the evening of the 22d inst.

"WILLIAM H. SEWARD.

SALMON P. CHASE.

E. M. STANTON.

GIDEON WELLES.

EDWARD P. BATES.

M. BLAIR."

* Mary Webb.

And this official communication was but one among many tokens that the people felt deep sympathy with their beloved President in his paternal grief.

One of the leading newspapers thus refers to the last sad rites over the early-called:

"The funeral of Master William Wallace Lincoln occurred yesterday at the White House, at two, P.M. His friends and acquaintances were previously allowed the sad pleasure of a last look in the Green Room, where lay his remains, clothed in accustomed pants and jacket, with white stockings and low shoes, with white collar and wristbands turned over the dark cloth of the jacket.

"On his breast rested a wreath of flowers; another lay near his feet; while a beautiful bouquet was held in his hand: the flowers composing the wreaths and bouquet being the queenly camellias; while azalias, and sprigs of mignonette, were disposed about the body.

"The beautiful bouquet in his hand was reserved for his sorrowing mother. A plain, metallic case of imitation rosewood was inscribed, 'William Wallace Lincoln, born Dec. 21, 1850; died Feb. 20, 1862.' The frames of the mirrors in the east and green rooms were covered with black crape; and the glass, with white crape. The funeral-service was performed by the pastor of the President, Rev. Dr. Gurley, in a very impressive manner.

"There were present members of the Cabinet, foreign ministers, members of Congress, army and navy officers, and many citizens and ladies. After the services, the body was placed in a vault at the Oak-Hill Cemetery, at Georgetown." *

Little did any then assembled think, as they looked upon the motionless form of the departed son, that, ere

* "National Republican."

many months, that precious dust would be removed and borne in a funeral procession, the like of which was never seen before; and that the father's form, now convulsed with grief, would then be lying cold and still in the sarcophagus where a nation had tearfully laid him, and move, side by side with the son, in an almost triumphal march, to a final resting-place in the Western land they loved, and from whence they came to the Nation's capitol and the Nation's heart.

At that far-off grave-side, the voice of the living preacher proclaimed the fact, which all men had learned by the rich experiences of four sad years, that the heart of the martyred President was tenderness itself; and it was pierced by the arrow of bereavement at the death of "Little Willie." Said the bishop then officiating,

"In his domestic life, he was exceedingly kind and affectionate. He was a devoted husband and father. During his presidential term, he lost his second son Willie. To an officer of the army he said, not long since, 'Do you ever find yourself talking with the dead?' and added, 'Since Willie's death, I catch myself every day involuntarily talking with him, as if he were with

me.'"

Even that trial was a blessing to his spirit. Heaven seemed nearer, doubtless, because Willie had passed through the gate. And, most assuredly, all the trials which our President was called to endure, though they were not joyous, but grievous," yet they wrought in him "the peaceable fruits of righteousness," and day by day he was ripening for the immortality into which he was so soon to enter.

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