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at night, one hundred thousand people had viewed the remains; and then the gates were shut. Soon afterwards, the coffin was taken from its beautiful resting-place; and, at twelve o'clock, the funeral party was again in progress, on the way to Columbus, the capital of the state.
But why repeat the same story again, and again? Why say more than that at Columbus and Indianapolis and Chicago, as well as at all the intermediate places, men did what they could, and all that they could, to honor him who had died in their service-who had been murdered for his truth to them and to freedom? It was a most remarkable exhibition of the popular feeling, and is unparalleled in history. There was nothing empty, nothing fictitious about it. There was never a sincerer tribute of affection rendered to a man than this. It was a costly, one, but men rendered it gladly, and hesitated no more at the cost than if they were expressing their grief over the lost members of their own homes.
It seemed almost like profanation of the sleeping President's rest, to bear him so far, and expose him so much; but the people demanded it, and would take no denial. All parties, all sects—friends and foes alike-mingled in their affectionate tributes of honor and sorrow.
When the remains of the President reached Chicago, they were at home. They were in the State in which he had spent the most of his life; and the people grasped him with almost a selfish sense of ownership. He was theirs. Only a short distance from the spot, lay his old antagonist, Douglas, in his last sleep. The party champions were once more near each other, upon their favorite soil; but their eloquent lips were silent-silent with an eloquence surpassing sound, in the proclamation of mighty changes in the nation, and the suggestions of mutability and mortality among men.
One more journey, and the weary form would rest. The people of Chicago honored the dead President with emotions that few thus far had experienced. Mr. Lincoln had been loved and admired by the people of Illinois, long before the rest of the nation knew anything about him. His face and voice had been familiar to
them for many years; and they had introduced him to the country and to immortality. He had walked through the portals of the new city into a fame as wide as the world. "He comes back to us,” said the Chicago Tribune, “his work finished, the republic vindicated, its enemies overthrown and suing for peace.
* * * He left us, asking that the prayers of the people might be offered to Almighty God for wisdom and help to see the right path and pursue it. Those prayers were answered. He accomplished his work, and now the prayers of the people ascend for help, to bear the great affliction which has fallen upon them. Slain as no other man has been slain, cut down while interposing his great charity and mercy between the wrath of the people and guilty traitors, the people of Chicago tenderly receive the sacred ashes, with bowed heads and streaming eyes.'
The remains reached Springfield on the morning of May third. Throughout the long ride of two hundred miles, over the continuous prairie that lies between Chicago and Springfield, there had transpired the most affecting demonstrations of the popular grief. Mottoes, flags, minute-guns, immense gatherings of the people, music, flowers, and copious tears, testified the universal sorrow. But in Springfield lived the heartiest mourners. Here were his intimate and life-long personal friends; and they received the dust of their murdered neighbor and fellow-citizen with a tenderness of which the people of no other community were capable. The President was forgotten in the companion and friend, endeared to them by a thousand ties. The State House, the Lincoln residence, and every store, public building, and dwelling, were draped heavily with mourning-a manifestation of the public sorrow which remained for weeks and months after it had disappeared from all other places that had been passed in the long procession. For twenty-four hours, or until ten o'clock on the morning of May fourth, the people pressed into the State
ouse, to gain a last glimpse of their departed friend. Through all the long night of the third, the steady tramp of thousands was heard, winding up the stair-case that led to the Representatives' Chamber, and passing out again. Silently, patiently, sorrowfully, the unfailing procession moved; and it did not stop until the coffin-lid was shut down, no more to be opened. The procession which conducted the remains to their final resting-place, in a tomb prepared for them at Oak Ridge Cemetery, a beautiful spot about two miles from the city, was under the immediate charge of Major-general Joseph Hooker. The town was thronged; and every train that arrived augmented the crowd. A large choir of two hundred and fifty singers sang the familiar hymn, beginning with the words,
“ Children of the Heavenly King,"
as the coffin was borne out to the hearse; and amid the souncle of solemn dirges and minute-guns the mournful procession moved. The cemetery was occupied by a vast multitude, before the procession arrived; and from hill and tree they looked tearfully on, while the coffin which contained the dust of their friend was consigned to its sepulcher. By the side of it was placed the coffin of “ little Willie;" while the living sons, Robert and Thomas, standing by the tomb, were objects of an affectionate interest only equaled by the deep sorrow for their own and their country's loss. Rev. A. Hale of Springfield opened the religious exercises with prayer; a hymn written for the occasion was sung; selections from Scripture, and Mr. Lincoln's last Inaugural were read; and Bishop Simpson, a favorite of Mr. Lincoln while living, delivered an eloquent address. Requiems and dirges, sung and played, completed the exercises of the occasion, closing with a benediction by Rev. Dr. Gurley of Washington.
The address of Bishop Simpson, able, affectionate, and excellent as it was, contained nothing more notable than the quotation that the speaker made from one of Mr. Lincoln's speeches, uttered 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 Evul 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 anil 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 cause, as I deem it, of the land of my life, my liberty and my love." No inspiration finer than this breathes in any of Mr. Lincoln's utterances. It almost seems as if an intimation of his life and death were given to him at the moment-as if a glimpse into his own and his country's future had been vouchsafed to his excited vision.
The crowd slowly separated; the citizens moved back to their homes; those who had accompanied the precious remains-at last resting, and in safe and affectionate keepingfrom Washington and points along the route, took their departure by the out-going trains; the guard paced their little round before the tomb, where through the grate the large and the little coffin lay in the dim light; and the people of Springfield were left to their grief and their glory.
There, surrounded by the sweetest scenes of nature, his tomb a shrine, his name the watchword of liberty, his fame in the affectionate keeping of mankind, his memory hallowed by martyrdom for the humane and Christian principles to which his life was devoted, the weary patriot rests. His sun went down suddenly, and whelmed the country in a darkness which was felt by every heart; but far up the clouds sprang soon the golden twilight, flooding the heavens with radiance, and illuminating every uncovered brow with the hope of a fair to-morrow. The aching head, the shattered nerves, the anxious heart, the weary frame, are all at rest; and the noble spirit that informed them, bows reverently and humbly in the presence of Him in whom it trusted, and to whose work it devoted the troubled years of its earthly life.
The death of Mr. Lincoln wrought a great change in the feelings of all the representatives of foreign opinion, not only toward him, but toward the country and its cause; and many were the testimonials that came in every ship, of foreign sympathy with the nation in its bereavement, and with those whose family life had been. so cruelly dissolved by the deed of the assassin. The British Queen wrote to Mrs. Lincoln a letter of condolence, with her own hand. All the foreign governments took occasion to express their horror at the crime which had deprived the nation of its head, and their sympathy with the people thus suddenly and violently bereft. The London Times, which had always been unjust to Mr. Lincoln, said: “It would be unjust not to acknowledge that Mr. Lincoln was a man who could not, under any circumstances, have been easily replaced.” Further on in its article, it confessed that "Englishmen learned to respect a man who showed the best characteristics of their race, in his respect for what is good in the past, acting in unison with a recognition of what was made necessary by the events of passing history.” The London Star said: “It can never be forgotten, while history is read, that the hands of southern partisans have been reddened by the foulest assassin-plot the world has ever known; that they have been treacherously dipped in the blood of one of the best citizens and purest patriots to whom the land of Washington gave birth.” The London Spectator spoke of Mr. Lincoln as “the noblest President whom America has had since the time of Washington ;” and “certainly the best, if not the ablest, man ruling over any country in the civilized world.” The London Saturday Review said: “During the arduous experience of four years, Mr. Lincoln constantly rose in general estimation, by calmness of temper, by an intuitively logical appreciation of the character of the conflict, and by undisputed sincerity.” The Economist said: “The murder of Mr. Lincoln is a very great and very lamentable event-perhaps the greatest and most lamentable which has occurred since the Coup d'etat, if not since Waterloo. It affects directly and immensely the welfare of the three most powerful countries in the world, America, France and England, and it affects them all for evil.” Goldwin Smith, in