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of John Brown, marched him rapidly across the prairie in a burning sun, and treated him with such inhumanity that he became insane. Brown, with twenty-seven men, came upon the Missourians, took twentytwo of them prisoners, and captured their horses and supplies. Another company of ruffians hacked another of Brown's sons to pieces with their knives, threw his mangled body across a horse, took it to his own door, and tumbled it to the ground at the feet of his young wife.

Civil war had begun. Men were shot by lurking assassins; houses were deserted; the smoke of burning dwellings darkened the sky; women and children were fleeing from their homes to escape from the inhuman wretches who were desolating the land that they might secure it forever to slavery. It seems probable that Douglas, when he said he doubtless would be burned in effigy, did not look forward to any such outbreak as that which suddenly flamed up on the plains of Kansas. He saw only the bauble of the Presidency of the nation-not murdered men. On the day of his arrival in Chicago, after the adjournment of Congress, many of the flags flying above the vessels in the harbor were displayed at half-mast, and at sunset the church-bells tolled as at a funeral service. The feeling against him was deep and intense.

JOHN BROWN.

Men who had been his friends did not call upon him. But he put a bold face upon the matter, and began an address vindicating his course. No cheer welcomed him as he mounted the platform. For a while the people listened in sullen silence, and then asked questions which made him angry. He shook his fists in their faces, and the noise became so great that he could not finish his speech. He visited his old home in Springfield.

A great crowd filled the Hall of Representatives in the State-house. Abraham Lincoln was present, a silent listener to what Douglas had to offer. For six years he had taken no part in political affairs, but the violation of a sacred compact by Douglas and President Pierce in the

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interest of the slave-holders had aroused his righteous indignation. He informed his friends that he should make a speech in reply.

1854.

won success.

Every seat, every inch of space is occupied, when Abraham Lincoln rises to speak. People are curious to hear what he will say, for Douglas is one of the able men of the country. He has practised law, Oct1 been elected judge and Senator. He has shown himself strong enough to secure the repeal of the Missouri Compromise, and his friends have named him "The Little Giant." He has respect for Abraham Lincoln, because, like himself, he has fought with adversity and He knows Lincoln is an able lawyer, that he has been member of Congress; but his measure of success has been small in comparison with his own. Possibly Douglas feels a sense of superiority as he takes a seat in the hall to hear Lincoln's argument. He has encountered in debate Charles Sumner, of Massachusetts; William H. Seward, of New York; Thomas H. Benton, of Missouri. He is fresh from the arena, where he has won a great victory. He has listened to all the arguments that the champions of freedom could marshal in opposition to the repeal. The literature of the question is at his tongue's end. Lincoln has heard none of the speeches. He may have read portions of the arguments of Senators and members of Congress, but has been attending to his own affairs through the months. He has only a night to put his thoughts in order. After a cheerful welcome a hush falls upon the great audience. He has only a scrap of paper before him. His friends and Douglas are amazed at his marvellous presentation of facts, and his statement of political principles enforced with thrilling eloquence. Douglas rises to interrupt him, but is courteously waved to his seat. Memory recalls the scene in the slave-market in New Orleans, and he vividly pictures it. Douglas would reproduce such scenes all over the fair domain once consecrated to freedom. But the Territory is doomed to slavery by what has been done if the Missourians succeed in driving out the settlers from the Free States. These burning words fall from Lincoln's lips:

This declared indifference-but I must think covert zeal-for the spread of slavery I can but hate. I hate it because of the monstrous injustice of slavery itself. I hate it because it deprives our republican example of its just influence in the world; enables the enemies of free institutions to taunt us as hypocrites; causes the real friends of freedom to doubt our sincerity; is at war with the vital principles of civic liberty; contrary to the Declaration of Independence; and maintains that there is no right principle of action but self-interest. . . . If the negro is a man, is it not the destruction of self-government to say that he shall not govern himself? When a white man governs himself, that is self-government; but when he governs himself and another man, that is more than self

government-it is despotism. No man is good enough to govern another man without the other's consent. . . . Slavery is founded on the selfishness of man's nature; opposition to it is his love of justice. These principles are in eternal antagonism. . . . I object to the Nebraska Bill, because it assumes there can be moral right in the enslaving of one man by another. . . . Little by little, but as steadily as man's march to the grave, we have been giving up the old for the new faith. Nearly eighty years ago we began by declaring that all men are created equal; but now we have come to the other declaration that for some men to enslave others is a sacred right of self-government. These principles cannot stand together; they are as opposite as God and Mammon."

The building shook with the stamping of feet.

air; women waved their handkerchiefs.

Cheers rent the Douglas was confounded. Through the long debate in Congress the falsity of his position never

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[The hall in which Lincoln made his first speech in opposition to Douglas.]

had been so clearly held up before the public. Never before had the immorality of the Nebraska measure been so exposed. Lincoln had spoken four hours, but Douglas was so stung that he spoke for two hours in a vain endeavor to break the force of Lincoln's argument.

Douglas went to Peoria, and was followed by Lincoln. As the trees are swayed by the winds, so the great audience there was moved by the thrilling words spoken in behalf of freedom. In the debate at Washington no Senator had given utterance to such fundamental truths as fell

from his lips. Douglas had intended to travel through the State and make speeches in the principal towns to vindicate his course, but abandoned the plan. He frankly said the arguments of Lincoln gave him more trouble than any presented in Congress.

If Douglas or the slave-holders thought there would be no discussion of the question of slavery, or that the people of the North would quietly see Kansas given over to slavery, they greatly misunderstood the temper of the times. The first political condemnation of the act came from New Hampshire, the President's own State. For a quarter of a century, with the exception of one year, the Democratic Party had controlled that State, but at the election, March, 1854, a Governor, the Legislature, and members of Congress were elected who were opposed to the Nebraska Bill. Other Northern States, one by one, elected members who were opposed to the further extension of slavery; so the Democratic Party, instead of having a majority, found itself in a minority in the House of Representatives.

Illinois had always been a Democratic State. The election in November, 1854, was for members of the Legislature. It was an exciting campaign, for that body would have the choosing of a United States Senator to succeed Mr. Shields. Douglas endeavored to make the people vote once more for the rule of the Democratic Party, but had the mortification of seeing a majority elected who were opposed to his course in Congress. Some were Democrats, others Whigs; but all agreed that the repeal of the Missouri Compromise was a violation of a sacred compact.

The friends of Abraham Lincoln ardently desired his election as Senator. It was due him. No one had done more than he to expose the iniquity of the course pursued by Douglas. He had been elected a member of the Legislature, and could not for that reason be a candidate for the Senate, on account of a clause in the Constitution of the State; he therefore resigned his seat. Unfortunately, the man chosen to succeed him was a Democrat, which made the question of his election as Senator very doubtful.

The time had come for the election of a Senator; it was an exciting day in the Capitol at Springfield. Shields was the Democratic candidate. The Whig members of the Free-soil Party were ready to vote for Lincoln, but the Democratic members would not vote for a Whig. They liked Abraham Lincoln personally, but he was a Whig. They were for Lyman Trumbull, a Democrat, who did not agree with Douglas. Without their votes it would not be possible to

1855.

elect a Senator opposed to the extension of slavery. The Democrats, seeing that they could not elect Shields, were ready to vote for Governor Matheson. Lincoln feared they would succeed. A great hour had come to him-a time when he could show that personal advantage is nothing, principle everything. If he continued to be a candidate Matheson would be elected, and Douglas and slavery triumphant. He called his true and steadfast friends around him. "Drop my name and vote for Trumbull," he said. It was a great thing to ask. Why should the Whigs give up their candidate and vote for a Democrat? Upon every question, other than that of Nebraska, Trumbull was an uncompromising Democrat. The persuasive words of Abraham Lincoln prevailed. With tears upon their cheeks their votes were cast for Trumbull, and he was elected. The prize which Lincoln hoped to win had passed beyond his grasp; but when he walked to his home in the twilight of the winter evening, with saddened heart and disappointed hopes, he was greater than ever before. He had fought a battle for principle and won the victory. Self had been sacrificed, but Freedom had triumphed.

On a summer night, while attending the Supreme Court in Chicago, Mr. Lincoln sat upon the piazza of the residence of Mr. Norman B. Judd, overlooking Lake Michigan. The labors of the day were over, and host, hostess, guest, and friends were enjoying the evening hour. Daylight was fading in the west, while in the east rose the full moon, seemingly from the lake. They beheld flocks of white-winged gulls; vessels were spreading their sails to the evening breeze. The waves were rippling upon the shore, and the stars shining in the azure depths of heaven. Mr. Lincoln was greatly stirred by the beauty of the scene.

"In that mild, pleasant voice," writes the hostess, "attuned to harmony with his surroundings, and which was his wont when his soul was stirred by aught that was lovely or beautiful, Mr. Lincoln began to speak of the mystery which for ages enshrouded and shut out those distant worlds above us from our own; of the poetry and beauty which was seen and felt by seers of old when they contemplated Orion and Arcturus as they wheeled, seemingly, around the earth in their nightly courses; of the discoveries since the invention of the telescope, which had thrown a flood of light and knowledge on what before was incomprehensible and mysterious; of the wonderful computations of scientists who had measured the miles of seemingly endless space which separated the planets in our solar system from our central sun, and our sun from other suns which were now gemming the heavens above us with their resplendent

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