he had time and inclination for such work. He said: "Well, you may keep that copy, if you wish." The following is the poem, as written down by Mr. Lincoln.

A. M. Ron

MONTREAL, 1882.

The saint, who enjoyed the communion of heaven,
The sinner, who dared to remain unforgiven,
The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just,
Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.

So the multitude goes-like the flower or the weed,
That withers away to let others succeed;

So the multitude comes-even those we behold,
To repeat every tale that has often been told.

For we are the same our fathers have been ;
We see the same sights our fathers have seen;
We drink the same stream, we view the same sun,

And run the same course our fathers have run.

The thoughts we are thinking, our fathers would think;
From the death we are shrinking, our fathers would shrink;

To the life we are clinging, they also would cling—
But it speeds from us all, like a bird on the wing.

They loved-but the story we cannot unfold;
They scorned-but the heart of the haughty is cold;
They grieved-but no wail from their slumber will come;
They joyed-but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.

They died-ay, they died-we things that are now,
That walk on the turf that lies over their brow,
And make in their dwellings a transient abode,
Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.

ALEXANDER MILTON ROSS.

Yea! hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,
Are mingled together in sunshine and rain;
And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge,
Still follow each other, like surge upon surge.

'Tis the wink of an eye-'tis the draught of a breath,
From the blossom of health to the paleness of death ;
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud :-
Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?

Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?—
Like a swift-fleeing meteor, a fast-flying cloud,
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
He passeth from life to his rest in the grave.

The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,
Be scattered around and together be laid;

And the young and the old, and the low and the high,
Shall molder to dust and together shall lie.

The infant, a mother attended and loved;
The mother, that infant's affection who proved;
The husband, that mother and infant who blest,-

Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest.

The maid, on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye,
Shone beauty and pleasure-her triumphs are by.
And the memory of those who loved her and praised,
Are alike from the minds of the living erased.

The hand of the king, that the scepter hath borne,
The brow of the priest, that the miter hath worn,
The eye of the sage and the heart of the brave,
Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.

The peasant, whose lot was to sow and to reap,

The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up the steep,
The beggar, who wandered in search of his bread,

Have faded away like the grass that we tread.

427

M

R. LINCOLN possessed all the qualities requisite to inspire confidence and to unite all the loyal elements of our much-divided people in the great conflict of our civil war, when the possibility of Republican institutions, in a wide extended country, was on trial. At times I thought him slow, but he was fast enough to be abreast with the body of his countrymen, and his heart beat steadily and hopefully with them.

WIS

ISE in council, prudent in action, firm upon necessity, humane always, patriotic, honest beyond a shadow of suspicion, he sought his country's good in self-sacrificing devotion. Noble as were many of his acts, he will be chiefly known in history as the great Emancipator.

ROSE TERRY COOKE.

429

ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

66 STRANGULATUS PRO REPUBLICA."

Hundreds there have been, loftier than their kind,
Heroes and victors in the world's great wars:
Hundreds, exalted as the eternal stars,

By the great heart, or keen and mighty mind;
There have been sufferers, maimed and halt and blind,
Who bore their woes in such triumphant calm

That God hath crowned them with the martyr's palm ;
And there were those who fought through fire to find
Their Master's face, and were by fire refined.

But who like thee, oh Sire! hath ever stood
Steadfast for truth and right, when lies and wrong
Rolled their dark waters, turbulent and strong;
Who bore reviling, baseness, tears and blood
Poured out like water, till thine own was spent,
Then reaped Earth's sole reward—a grave and monument!

MY

Y admiration of the character of Abraham Lincoln has been put into permanent form in the erection of the "Lincoln Tower," adjoining my church. This structure cost £7,000. Half of it was given, with great readiness, by Britishers; the other half was contributed in America. A stone over the principal entrance bears the honored name of Lincoln. Two class-rooms in it bear the names of Washington and Wilberforce. The spire is built in alternate stripes with stars between. A marble tablet explains the origin of the structure, and records the fact of the abolition of slavery by Lincoln. He nobly lived for freedom, and in its cause died a martyr's death. Few men in the world's history have been privileged to do a work involving so much benefit to mankind.