in his true eye, this steady pilot kept his hand on the helm, and smiled amid all storms. He lived through several of these trying times; and the men who had blamed his slowness, thanked God that their impetuosity had not changed his course.

I said that they complained of his slowness. There was a quality in Mr. Lincoln which was indeed remarkable in this headlong age, among such an irritable people. His honesty-another name for his sense of justice-made him seem slow. He wished to hear, and he would hear, every particle of evidence before the case was taken up for decision. Then he did what he felt to be right; that is, he first gave long and careful deliberation to the matter, and then moved with an absolutely inflexible purpose toward his end. He would not import the dash of the battle-field into the deliberations of the council-chamber. He knew that all important questions of State would gain by waiting. There he felt secure in his own judgment, and there he held firm. In matters which, as we may say, were not legitimately within his province except by name, as military affairs, - he was modest, and, though having opinions, allowed himself to be, perhaps not unfrequently, overruled; when, even here, in most cases, I believe the facts would show that his ideas were more judicious than those finally substituted. But, where questions of State were involved, he would deliberate long, and act with absolute independence. We used often to hear, two years ago, remarks like this: That hopes had been entertained that the President would take this or that step, but that such a strong pressure had been brought upon him on the other side, that the hope had been given up; but lately we have not heard such remarks, simply because men had begun to know that it was not an adverse influence which defeated their projects, but simply the resistance of a strong and just nature to their own inordinate pressure. The honesty, sense of justice, which seemed an inborn, and was an absolutely fixed, principle of

his being, was the sure moral foundation on which all his excellences rested.

In patriotism he was a bright exemplar. Absolute modesty, utter self-abnegation, characterized all his acts. He made no verbal professions of patriotism, more than he did of honesty. He seemed to think it as absurd for a public officer to advertise his love of country, as it would be for a judge to boast of fairness. In fact, he never thought of self. A simple, single desire to serve the country, and to guide her safely through her sea of troubles, was the motive power of all his acts.

With this unfailing honesty and this shining patriotism was joined a far-seeing wisdom, which- under God- - has brought us again to the boundary of peace. Our late President was a wiser man than most of those around him, than most of those throughout the land. He could penetrate farther into the future than most. His wisdom seemed like his honesty and his patriotism to be an instinct; and where other men, wise in their generation, would have hastily taken a certain step, he waited and looked about him, usually seeing a reason for different action. Turn back along the history of the past four years, and see how many acts there are, which, had they been otherwise done, would most likely have brought us to-day into another and surely worse condition than that which we now hold. The question of emancipation, upon which more pressure was brought to bear for and against than on any other, emancipation was the dear wish of his heart. But not even to accomplish that would he take a step which honesty and patriotism did not approve. His wisdom showed him the difficulties before him, and directed him how to avoid them all. And now grandly that wisdom stands forth this day in connection with the great result of the war,- Universal Liberty.

There was a positive sublimity in Mr. Lincoln's calm stead

fastness and self-reliance, and of which he often had especial need. There have been many dark days during this war, as you surely need not be told. There have been months of what the people thought inaction; times when every thing seemed slipping into chaos; moments when political manipulations seemed to be paralyzing the military arm, and making the Executive a merely nominal power. The opposition presses throughout the country were joining in one yell of objurgation; the friendly journals were fault-finding, changeable, lukewarm; the people fancied they saw imbecility in the Administration. Amid all this uproar, with the awful responsibility of the nation's weal on his shoulders, under which, in such a moment of anxiety, a timid man would have fled, and a nervous man would have died,―he remained firm, quiet, unruffled, certain that the future would justify the present, and willing to wait for the coming verdict.

qualities which never deserted him,

Try to place yourselves in imagination in the position he occupied, for instance, when some great military plan was coming to its development, and there was impending one of those series of bloody actions which you all know so well. The fighting begins. The moment for which the people have been clamoring has come. If the result of the battles be favorable, well; if the result be a defeat, then upon the head of the President is sure to descend a torrent of censure. Can you conceive any thing more trying than such an interval of anxiety and suspense? It would have been hard enough to have endured it, if success should come: but perchance we are beaten; now what strength is like that which can stand up, unmoved in its conscious integrity, and outlive that overthrow? What courage like that which can patiently clear away the ruins, and then sit down to construct another edifice, still hopefully? Such unfailing strength, such indomitable courage, characterized the man for whom we mourn.

But again disclaiming any pretence of having given more than an imperfect outline of Mr. Lincoln's characteristics as a statesman let us turn to look at him in his personal traits. It was my lot to be one of the number who accompanied the President elect on his circuitous journey from his Western home to Washington, previous to his first inauguration. At night, when we paused at some large town or city, there was, of course, confusion, and all the jargon of a public demonstration. But when, the next morning, we were once more under way, freedom of intercourse was again restored, and the inmates of the two cars which composed the special train moved to and fro as they chose. Thus, during the eight or nine days consumed before reaching New-York City, all had the opportunity of seeing much of the man upon whom the heart-hopes of the whole country then rested with a prophetic instinct. Of course, political matters were not discussed in any general way; and except for the three or four brief speeches during the day, when at some waystation the people would have collected to greet their President, no one would have known that so noteworthy a personage was there. But this very absence of official circumstance gave us all the more opportunity of observing his personal characteristics; and these, as then developed to us, never changed, even in the atmosphere of the capital.

Mr. Lincoln was essentially and thoroughly a kind man: his was a homely kindness, too, which made no one feel as if subjected to a condescension. While speaking to those younger than himself, he was apt to put his hand upon the other's shoulder, and then would utter some bit of quaint wisdom, or make some personal inquiry, through which a magnetism would steal into the one with whom he conversed, drawing him along with gentle but resistless force. One of the most charming recollections of the trip is of the peculiar love existing between the President elect

and Colonel Ellsworth, who was of the party. As they sat or stood talking together, the former's arm would be thrown around Ellsworth with the air of an older brother; and, as if in return for this regard, the latter would constitute himself a special bodyguard, and his vigorous strength would open a way through the densest crowd which gathered at the terminus of the day's ride to gaze at and hail with shouts the illustrious visitor.

To people generally, Mr. Lincoln was by no means a demonstrative person, and his courtesy had not the finish of the polished man of society. But his genuine kindness was unfailing: it would show itself in the trip spoken of on seeing, at a station where no stop was to be made, a waiting crowd. He could not bear to disappoint the people, he said; and it was the same feeling which sent him, reluctant, to the theatre, to meet his death. He would gladly have avoided the conspicuous display; but the cry, "We want to see President Lincoln," he could not resist. "I think I must say 'how d'ye do' to them," he would remark to the manager of the excursion: and so he would step out upon the rear platform, acknowledging the greeting, and beginning an address which would most likely be quickly cut short by the moving off of the train; when, with a last pleasant word, and one of his peculiar smiles, which seemed to light up the whole assembly, he would return to his place, making some apologetic remark to the representatives of the press for the unfinished oration, and then for an hour or two more would be the plain and happy father of his children, of whose frolics he never grew weary.

This broad, genial kindness of heart never left him through life. Those who were associated with him, whether private secretaries or house servants, socially or officially, - all join in this, that he was invariably a gentle man. He truly rejoiced with the joyful, and wept with the mourner. Whether reviewing the army, or visiting the bedside of the thousand inmates of a