ever get a chance to hit that thing, I'll hit it hard." He "hit it hard" when as a member of the Illinois Legislature he protested that "the institution of slavery is founded on both injustice and bad policy."

He "hit it hard" when as a member of Congress he "voted for the Wilmot Proviso as good as forty times." He "hit it hard" when he stumped his state against the Kansas-Nebraska bill, and on the direct issue carried Illinois in favor of the restriction of slavery by a majority of 4,414 votes. He "hit it hard" when he approved the law abolishing slavery in the District of Columbia, an anti-slavery measure that he had voted for in Congress. He "hit it hard" when he signed the acts abolishing slavery in all the Territories, and for the repeal of the Fugitive Slave Law. But it still remained for him to strike slavery its death-blow. He did that in his glorious Proclamation of Freedom.

It was in this light that Lincoln himself viewed these great events. He wrote a mass-meeting of unconditional Union men at Springfield, Ill., August 26, 1863, as follows:

"The emancipation policy and the use of colored troops constitute the heaviest blow yet dealt to the Rebellion, and at least one of these important successes could not have been achieved when it was but for the aid of black soldiers. The job was

a great National one, and let none be banned who

bore an honorable part in it. not appear so distant as it did. soon, and come to stay; and so

Peace does I hope it will come come as to be worth

the keeping in all future time. It will then have proved that among the free men there can be no successful appeal from the ballot to the bullet, and that they who take such appeal are sure to lose their case and pay the cost. the cost. And then there will be some black men who can remember that with silent tongue, and clenched teeth, and steady eye, and well-poised bayonet, they have helped mankind on to this great consummation, while I fear there will be some white ones unable to forget that with malignant heart and deceitful speech they strove to hinder it."

Secretary Seward tells how when he carried the historic Proclamation to the President for signature at noon on the first day of January, 1863, he said: "I have been shaking hands since nine o'clock this morning, and my right hand is almost paralyzed. If my name ever goes into history, it will be for this act, and my whole soul is in it. If my hand trembles when I sign the Proclamation all who examine the document hereafter, will say, 'he hesitated.'" He turned to the table, took up his pen and slowly, firmly wrote that 'Abraham Lincoln' with which the whole world is now familiar. Then he looked up and said: "That will do."

In all the long years of slavery agitation, unlike any of the other anti-slavery leaders, Lincoln always carried the people with him. In 1854 Illinois cast loose from her old Democratic moorings and followed his leadership in a most emphatic protest against the repeal of the Missouri Compromise. In 1858 the people of Illinois endorsed his opposition

to the aggressions of slavery, in a state usually Democratic, even against so popular a leader as " the Little Giant." In 1860 the whole country endorsed his position on slavery, even when the people were continually harangued that his election meant the dissolution of the Union. During the war the people advanced with him step by step to its final overthrow. Indeed, in the election of 1864 the people not only endorsed emancipation, but went far towards recognizing the political equality of the negro. They heartily justified the President in having enlisted colored soldiers to fight side by side with the white man in the noble cause of union and liberty. Aye, they did more, they endorsed his position on another and vastly more important phase of the race problem. They approved his course as President in reorganizing the government of Louisiana, and a hostile press did not fail to call attention to the fact that this meant eventually negro suffrage in that State.

Perhaps, however, it was not known then that Lincoln had written the new Free State Governor, on March 13, 1864, as follows:

"Now you are about to have a convention, which, among other things, will probably define the elective franchise. I barely suggest for your private consideration, whether some of the colored people may not be let in as for instance, the very intelligent, and especially those who have fought gallantly in our ranks. They would probably help, in some trying time to come, to keep the jewel of liberty within the family of freedom."

Lincoln had that happy, peculiar habit, which few public men have attained, of looking away from the deceptive and misleading influences about him, and none are more deceptive than those of public life in our capitals, straight into the hearts of the people. He could not be deceived by the self-interested host of eager counselors who sought to enforce their own particular views upon him as the voice of the country. He chose to determine for himself what the people were thinking about and wanting him to do, and no man ever lived who was a more accurate judge of their opinions and wishes.

The battle of Gettysburg turned the scale of the war in favor of the Union, and it has always seemed to me most fortunate that Lincoln declared for emancipation before rather than after that decisive contest. A later Proclamation might have been construed as a tame and cowardly performance, not a challenge of Truth to Error for mortal combat. The ground on which that battle was fought is held sacred by every friend of freedom. But important as the battle itself was the dedication of it as a National Cemetery is celebrated for a grander thing. The words Lincoln spoke there will live "until time shall be no more," through all eternity. Well may they be forever preserved on tablets of bronze upon the spot where he spoke, but how infinitely better it would be if they could find a permanent lodging place in the soul of every American!

Lincoln was a man of moderation. He was neither an autocrat nor a tyrant. If he moved slowly some

times, it was because it was better to move slowly, and, like the successful general that he was, he was only waiting for his reserves to come up. Possessing almost unlimited power, he yet carried himself like one of the humblest of men. He weighed every subject. He considered and reflected upon every phase of public duty. He got the average judgment of the plain people. He had a high sense of justice, a clear understanding of the rights of others, and never needlessly inflicted an injury upon any man.

He said, in response to a serenade, November 10, 1864, just after his triumphal election for a second term to the great office of President:

"Now that the election is over, may not all having a common interest reunite in a common effort to save our common country? For my own part, I have striven and shall strive to avoid placing any obstacle in the way. So long as I have been here I have not willingly planted a thorn in any man's bosom. While I am deeply sensible to the high compliment of a re-election, and duly grateful, as I trust, to Almighty God for having directed my countrymen to a right conclusion, as I think, for their own good, it adds nothing to my satisfaction that any other man may be disappointed or pained by the result."

It is pleasant to note that in the very last public speech by President Lincoln, on April 11, 1865, he uttered noble sentiments of charity and good-will similar to those of his sublime second inaugural, which were of peculiar interest to the people of the South. In discussing the question of reconstruction, he said.