dary lines, saying: "thus far shalt thou go, and no further." Any one of you gentlemen might as well say to a son twelve years old that he is big enough, and must not grow any larger, and in order to prevent his growth, put a hoop around him to keep him to his present size. What would be the result? Either the hoop must burst and be rent asunder, or the child must die. So it would be with this great nation. With our natural increase, growing with a rapidity unknown in any other part of the globe, with the tide of emigration that is fleeing from despotism in the Old World to seek refuge in our own, there is a constant torrent pouring into this country that requires more land, more territory upon which to settle; and just as fast as our interests and our destiny require additional territory in the North, in the South, or on the islands of the ocean, I am for it, and when we acquire it, will leave the people, according to the Nebraska Bill, free to do as they please on the subject of slavery and every other question. I trust now that Mr. Lincoln will deem himself answered on his four points. He racked his brain so much in devising these four questions that he exhausted himself, and had not strength enough to invent the others. As soon as he is able to hold a council with his advisers, Lovejoy, Farnsworth, and Fred Douglas, he will frame and propound others. ["Good, good!"] You Black Republicans who say good, I have no doubt think that they are all good men. I have no reason to recollect that some people in this country think that Fred Douglas is a very good man. The last time I came here to make a speech, while talking from the stand to you, people of Freeport, as I am doing to-day, I saw a carriage, and a magnificent one it was, drive up and take a position on the outside of the crowd; a beautiful young lady was sitting on the box-seat, whilst Fred Douglas and her mother reclined inside, and the owner of the carriage acted as driver. I saw this in your own town. ["What of it?"] All I have to say of it is this, that if you, Black Republicans, think that the negro ought to be on a social equality with your wives and daughters, and ride in a carriage with your wife, whilst you drive the team, you have a perfect right to do so. I am told that one of Fred Douglas's kinsmen, another rich black negro, is now travelling in this part of the State, making speeches for his friend Lincoln as the champion of black men. ["What have you to say against it?"] All I have to say on that subject is, that those of you who believe that the negro is your equal and ought to be on an equality with you socially, politically, and legally, have a right to entertain these opinions, and, of course, will vote for Mr. Lincoln. HENRY WARD BEECHER 1813-1887 In the seventy-four years that measured the span of Henry Ward Beecher's life he witnessed the mightiest drama that has ever been played upon the stage of American history. When he was born, in 1813, slavery had not become a political issue, even in the minds of the most visionary; the sun rose and set on millions of American slaves; two contrasting civilizations existed side by side-the proud, self-contained aristocracy of the South, and the intensely free, democratic communities of the North. The whole Union had settled down apparently contented with those conditions. When he died, in 1887, rich in years and honors, the question of human bondage on this continent had been forever silenced by the tears and blood of fratricidal strife, and out of the ashes of defeat the Phoenix of a New South was rising, new in strength and purpose, new in hopes and ideals. Though many men, contemporaries of Beecher, lived to see the happenings of those portentous years, few played, from first to last, a part so influential and conspicuous. He was an uncompromising hater of slavery; he was interested in politics, in religion, in literature, in art. He was at the same time a clergyman, a lecturer, an author, and was always busy. Beecher was born at Litchfield, Connecticut, where his father was a Protestant clergyman, in 1813. He received his education at Amherst College and Lane Theological Seminary, where his father had held an appointment as professor of theology. His first charge was a small church at Lawrenceburg, Indiana, where his congregation barely numbered twenty. His next call was to Indianapolis, where his eloquence and the fervor he put in his work made him a favorite. At that time he became identified with the Abolition movement, which was just beginning to show its strength. After eight years of entirely successful ministry in Indianapolis, Beecher received a call from the newly organized Plymouth Church, in Brooklyn, and entered on his duties in October, 1847. It would not be feasible, in this short sketch, to give an outline of the work he accomplished during his forty years' incumbency of that pulpit. Suffice it to say, that he made his church one of the most influential in the country, and made for himself a reputation as a preacher second to none. During the war he went to England, and addressed the hostile mobs of Liverpool and Manchester on the subject of slavery, and the differences between the North and the South. His resolute bearing, his strong, manly face and eloquent tongue often converted whole audiences, in the course of a single evening, to a belief in the principles for which the North was struggling. At the close of the war he delivered the famous address over the ruins of Fort Sumter. As the starry emblem of the Union unfolded itself, he read in its fluttering folds the verdict of the American people that slavery should exist no more. He continued to preach at Plymouth Church for twenty-two years after the war. He died, in 1887, as he had lived, "in harness." To no man can the epitaph" Here lies the man who labored," be more fittingly inscribed. RAISING THE FLAG OVER FORT SUMTER Delivered April 14, 1865, by request of President Lincoln Ο N this solemn and joyful day we again lift to the breeze our fathers' flag, now again the banner of the United States, with the fervent prayer that God will crown it with honor, protect it from treason, and send it down to our children, with all the blessings of civilization, liberty and religion. Terrible in battle, may it be beneficent in peace. Happily no bird or beast of prey has been inscribed upon it. The stars that redeem the night from darkness, and the beams of red light that beautify the morning, have been united upon its folds. As long as the sun endures, or the stars, may it wave over a nation neither enslaved nor enslaving! Once, and but once, has treason dishonored it. In that insane hour when the guiltiest and bloodiest rebellion of all time hurled their fires upon this fort, you, sir [turning to General Anderson], and a small, heroic band, stood within these now crumbled walls, and did gallant and just battle for the honor and defence of the nation's banner. In that cope of fire, that glorious flag still peacefully waved to the breeze above your head, unconscious of harm as the stars and skies above it. Once it was shot down. A gallant hand, in whose care this day it has been, plucked it from the ground, and reared it again" cast down but not destroyed." After a vain resistance, with trembling hand and sad heart, you withdrew it from its height, closed its wings, and bore it far away, sternly to sleep amid the tumults of rebellion, and the thunder of battle. The first act of war had begun. The long night of four years had set in. While the giddy traitors whirled in a maze of exhilaration, dim horrors were already advancing, that were ere long to fill the land with blood. To-day you are returned again. We devoutly join with you in thanksgiving to Almighty God that he has spared your honored life, and vouchsafed to you the |