objection quickly came, "He will hardly expect that, and moreover, before such an august audience he will not be heard, and we want this to be the occasion of master-effort oratory." The people gathered. The great and eminent were present. Lincoln had finally been invited; but he was allowed to understand that the eminent, the distinguished and flowery Edward Everett, would be expected to consume such time as he desired. The far-famed orator from New England was introduced. He proceeded with all the knowledge of oratory to gather the auditory admiration; he was painting beautiful scenes; he was designing carefully studied equations of eloquence; he was delving into ancient history, bringing to the surface the beauties of the ruins of the old world, and seemed in a serene atmosphere of all that was rhetorical—learned, scholarly, and poetic. His discourse lasted one hour and a half, and the assemblage had truly heard a great man. Then the humble, the somewhat shunned President of the United States was introduced. He calmly, yet with a depth of sadness never equalled, came forward. His bowed head was weary of the strife; his eyes had wept bitter tears of sorrow; his noble soul had suffered untold agonies during the days that Gettysburg resounded with cannonading. He stood erect, and, in a majestic and almost divine attitude, began that grand summary of our history. His Address lasted just four minutes, during which time he pictured plainly the settlement period, then the Revolutionary epoch, then the Constitutional career of this great nation. He followed up with the struggle at Gettysburg; reassured the living and the martyred that the dead had not died in vain; climaxed the scene with renewed devotion to liberty, and proclaimed the everlasting reign of our freedom. The world little remembers what Everett said that day. His logic, his conclusions, and all the bright colors of that canvas have darkened and almost faded away; but the living shades from the eloquent lips of Lincoln-they livethey will continue to grow more clearly and take on their true harmonies as the days enter the portals of our eastern shores, the youth of the land eagerly drink in their meaning;

and the best and most unselfish history of the United States can be seen in the words of the Gettysburg Address.

This one Address stamps Lincoln as a master of our language-makes him a part of the literary galaxy of our land. His constant faith in books and his ever-willingness to make them his companions lends reason for my classing him as a literary product. He had no teachers and his greatness rested on his book foundations. He believed in books and loved them; he pronounced them his "unfailing and unfaltering friends." When all was dark and gloomy and even hope seemed madness; when senators could not be trusted; when representatives deceived him; when generals deserted the cause; when diplomats in the foreign lands traitorously lent the Confederacy aid; and when even his own Cabinet was disloyal to him personally-then he would steal into the library of the White House and bury himself in the depths of some favorite prose or poetry. His poetic nature naturally sought relief in quietude, and his choice lines from Knox were thoroughly expressive of his broad and democratic nature. The lines he most loved were:

"The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,

Be scatter'd around and together be laid;

And the young and the old and the low and the high,
Shall moulder to dust yet together shall lie."

Then he would emerge from the book-world with new hopes, with new life, and with renewed fortitude, and assume his stern and oath-bound duty.

Lincoln was the happy embodiment of the typically national American; he seemed to possess that peculiar requisite which the times demanded, and was well equipped and thoroughly prepared mentally and physically to endure those hardships, and triumph over almost unsurmountable obstacles. We all love Abraham Lincoln. His very name brings warmth to our hearts. His life was exemplary of loyalty and his name is inscribed high on the rolls of fame. While he was a farmer, he does not belong to them; though a lawyer, yet the attorneys can not claim him; though he fought with the North, yet he

does not seem our own. He can not be claimed a full possession by even the entire Union. Lincoln has grown, and endeared himself, and now belongs to the entire liberty-loving world.

I

THE FREEPORT DEBATE

GEN. SMITH D. ATKINS

AM to speak about that which it appears to me happened only yesterday-the joint debate between Abraham Lincoln and Stephen A. Douglas, at Freeport, August 27, 1858. I want you to remember these two things: The Missouri Compromise of 1820, that excluded slavery by an Act of Congress from the Territories, was repealed in 1854; the Dred Scott case was decided by the Supreme Court in 1856, and that Court decided that slavery was recognized in the Constitution of the United States, and went into all the Territories, and everywhere that the Constitution was supreme, there being no power that could exclude it, legislative, executive or judicial; and that therefore the Northwest Ordinance of 1787, the Free State Constitution of Illinois of 1818, the Missouri Compromise of 1820, were null and void so far as the question of slavery was concerned. These were the burning questions discussed.

Mr. Lincoln arrived in Freeport from Mendota about nine o'clock in the morning, and went to his room in the Brewster House. There was no conference of leading Republicans as to the course Mr. Lincoln should pursue, nothing of the kind. All discussion appeared to come about purely by accidentthe door of Mr. Lincoln's room wide open, people coming and going as they chose.

The subject under discussion when I entered the room was the solemn manner of Mr. Lincoln's oratory in the first of the series of joint debates at Ottawa, on August 21, all present who engaged in the conversation urging Lincoln to drop his solemn style of argument and tell stories, as did Tom Corwin, of Ohio, and "catch the crowd."

Mr. Lincoln appeared greatly amused, and said very little,

but after a while he drew from his pocket a list of questions that he had carefully prepared and which he proposed to ask Mr. Douglas. The reading of those questions created a storm of opposition on the part of nearly everyone present, especially the second question, "Can the people of a United States Territory, in any lawful way, against the wish of any citizen of the United States, exclude slavery from its limits prior to the formation of a State Constitution?" Nearly all present urged that Mr. Douglas would answer that under his doctrine of "Popular Sovereignty, "any Territory could by "unfriendly legislation" exclude slavery, and Mr. Douglas would "catch the crowd” and beat Mr. Lincoln as a candidate for United States Senator from Illinois.

Mr. Lincoln listened attentively, and with wonderful patience, while those arguments were urged against the course he proposed to pursue, but finally, he slowly and deliberately replied in substance-and in his own words as nearly as I can now remember them-"Well, as to my changing my style of argument, I will not do that the subject is too solemn and important. That is settled. Now as to the other pointI don't know how Mr. Douglas will answer; if he answers that the people of a Territory cannot exclude slavery, I will beat him; but if he answers as you say he will, and as I believe he will, he may beat me for Senator, but he will never be President."

Mr. Lincoln did, in the joint debate in the afternoon, ask Judge Douglas the question that had been the subject of so much discussion, and Douglas did answer, as all said that he would, and as Lincoln believed that he would, and Douglas did beat Lincoln as a candidate for Senator from Illinois. But in making that answer Douglas put himself in direct opposition to the decision of the Supreme Court of the United States in the Dred Scott case, and he so offended the Democrats of the South that they instantly denounced him. That answer made by Douglas to Lincoln's question in Freeport, on August 27, 1858, split the Democratic National Convention at Charleston, South Carolina, in 1860, and as Lincoln had predicted, made the election of Douglas as President impossible.