his tomb to be made near the State House, so as to be easy of access, but at the request of Mrs. Lincoln, Oak Ridge, a quiet and peaceful cemetery, was chosen.

At one time, while riding in the country with his wife, Mr. Lincoln had passed by a quiet, country graveyard and, attracted by the peaceful aspect of the place, they had alighted and walked slowly through it. The President seemed to be affected by the melancholy beauty of the place and said, "Mary, I am older than you and you will probably outlive me. When I die I want you to lay me to rest in some quiet, retired spot like this." Taking this to be the expression of his desire, this quiet, suburban cemetery was selected.

Finally, the body was taken from the State House, where it had been viewed by thousands of sorrowing friends, and was placed in the hearse as a choir of two hundred and fifty singers sang the familiar hymn, "Children of the Heavenly King." Followed by a long procession the hearse passed slowly over the mile and a half to the cemetery, where the body was consigned to the grave, and by its side was placed the coffin containing the body of "little Willie." The funeral oration was pronounced by Bishop Simpson and was an eloquent and touching tribute to the dead Chief. But in the whole sermon occurred nothing more touching in the light of recent events, than a quotation from one of Lincoln's speeches, made in 1859, in which, speaking of the slave-power, he said: "Broken by it I too may be, bow to it I never will. The probability that we may fail in the struggle ought not to deter us from the support of a cause

which I deem to be just; and it shall not deter me. If ever I feel the soul within me elevate and expand to those dimensions, not wholly unworthy of its Almighty Architect, it is, when I contemplate the cause of my country, deserted by all the world besides, and I, standing up boldly and alone, and hurling defiance at her victorious oppressors. Here, without contemplating consequences, before high Heaven and in the face of the world, I swear eternal fidelity to the just causes as I deem it, of the land of my life, my liberty, and my love."

CHAPTER XXIII.

IT has been said that Mr. Lincoln was not an ambitious man, but this is not wholly true. In a broad sense he was ambitious. It is true that his aspirations were not selfish and that he did not desire to obtain honor and renown for their own sake alone. He felt that Providence had placed him in an humble station in life, but had endowed him with gifts which entitled him to occupy a more exalted and honorable position. This he strove to gain by first becoming worthy of it. He hoped to attain distinction, but not until he had earned it.

No man with the ordinary endowments of nature could feel that honor and wide reputation were within his reach without the desiring to secure them. Mr. Lincoln was no exception. He desired office, partly because of the wider and higher sphere of action it would open up to him, and partly to satisfy his honest pride.

He was not ambitious as Napoleon, Cæsar or Alexander, but the exalted ambition of Cromwell and Washington dwelt within his breast, the ambition. which would make his own aggrandizement redound to the advantage of his country and of humanity. It is such ambition that has inspired the grandest deed: of the past, and without it the American slaves might yet be in chains.

It is natural that he should be deeply gratified at

the honor conferred upon him by his nomination and election to the Presidency, yet he was never led to magnify his own ability nor the importance of his services. He felt a deep sense of his own unworthiness and did not hesitate to express his sentiments publicly.

In his address at Assembly Hall, Albany, February 18, 1861, he said: "It is true, that while I hold myself, without mock modesty, the humblest of all individuals that have ever been elevated to the Presidency, I have a more difficult task to perform than any one of them."

While his modesty led him to disparage himself no man has ever invested the office, which he was called upon to fill, with a higher dignity. All his personal interests, desires and feelings were sacrificed to the demands of his position. Lincoln, the private citizen, disappeared forever, on the 4th of March, 1861, and Lincoln, the President, the servant of the people, the constitutional head of the Government, took his place.

He was never overbearing and dictatorial, for he felt that he was but the servant whom the nation had deputed to perform certain important duties.

He never exhibited a spirit of undue partisanship nor made unfair distinction between his political friends and foes, for, although he was elected as the standard-bearer of the Republican party, he conceived himself to be the President, not of a party, but of the whole country. From his point of view political sentiments formed no basis for appointment to responsible positions. The only requirements were patriotism and fitness.

The same spirit of humility which he had exhibited in his earlier life followed him throughout his career. The praise and honors that were accorded to him he seldom received as due to himself personally but rather to the high office which he occupied.

At a reception tendered him at Indianapolis he said: "Most heartily do I thank you for this magnificent reception, yet I cannot take to myself any share of the compliment thus paid, more than that which pertains to a mere instrument, an accidental instrument, perhaps I should say, of a great cause."

At Cincinnati he said: "My friends, I am entirely overwhelmed by the magnificence of the reception which has been given, I will not say to me, but to the President-elect of the United States of America."

At Harrisburg he said: "I thank your great commonwealth for the overwhelming support it recently gave, not to me personally, but to the cause which I think a great one, in the recent election."

In his homely phrase he frequently referred to himself as the "lead-horse" of the national team.

If there was ever a time in his career when he might have been expected to indulge in self-gratulation it was when he was informed of his second nomination for the Presidency by the Republican party. The war was in its last stages. The beginning of the end was at hand. The crowning victory could even then be foreseen, and to him more than to any other one person was this result due. Yet his wonted modesty did not forsake him. In his reply to the congratulations of the National Union League, June 9, 1864, he said:

"Gentlemen:-I can only say in response to the