Photograph taken while the crowd was gathering for the inauguration in 1861, showing the National Capitol of the Republic in course of its construction

Negative in Collection of Americana owned by Mr. Frederick H. Meserve of New York

LINCOLN AT HIS HOME IN SPRINGFIELD-Photograph taken early in 1861 as Lincoln stood with his two younger sons in his front yard-Print in collection of Mr. L. C. Handy of Washington

WHITE HOUSE AS LINCOLN ENTERED IT-Photograph taken at Presidential mansion in Washington, in 1861,

in first spring of Lincoln's occupancy-Print in collection of Mr. L. C. Handy of Washington

THE WILLINGNESS OF LINCOLN TO GIVE HIS LIFE

T

HE final test of a man's ability is responsibility. The calm dignity of Lincoln in the storms of violence that were thundering about him perplexed the people. He did not repent of "the crime of having been elected"; he did not ask forgiveness nor apology; neither did he heed the warnings that were flooding upon him from all parts of the country, begging him to resign or to compromise.

The day arrived for him to start for Washington. It was a clear, cold, winter morning the eleventh of February in 1861. Lincoln rose long before daylight and was at the railroad station at eight o'clock. Less than a hundred people were there to shake hands with him, neighbors who had watched him rise from humbleness to greatness and who knew that the gulf was so narrow that they could clasp hands from either side.

The tall, solemn figure stood on the rear platform of the train that was about to bear him away. The snow was beginning to fall. He raised his hand to silence them, and, baring his head, he looked into their faces. There was a tear on his cheek; his lips quivered. He spoke a few words of encouragement, and bowed: "I bid you an affectionate farewell!" The train pulled away, and as it disappeared from view, Lincoln, the country lawyer, could be seen still lingering on the platform.

At the villages and cities where the train paused, women and children threw bouquets into the car, while men and boys shouted for "Lincoln."

"To the salvation of the Union there needs but one thing," he said, slowly, "the hearts of a people like yours. Of the people when they rise in a mass in behalf of the Union and the liberties of their country, truly may it be said 'the gates of hell cannot prevail against them!'

For two weeks he passed through the principal cities of the North, leaving words of encouragement and inspiration. It was now Washington's Birthday. He stood at Independence Hall, the historic shrine where the world first heard the Declaration of Independence that proclaimed a new era of civilization in which all men are politically "free and equal.”

"If this country cannot be saved without giving up that principle—I would rather be assassinated on this spot than surrender it!" he cried. The words thrilled his hearers. The voice of the solemn man rang through the great gathering: "I have said nothing that I am not willing to live by, and if it be the pleasure of Almighty God, to die by!"

It was the clear, clarion note of a Nation's patriotism—a man was offering his own life as a sacrifice for the country that he loved.

Photograph taken at Springfield, Illinois, just prior to Lincoln's departure for Washington in 1861-Original negative by F. M. McNulta-Now owned and copyrighted, 1894,

THE FORTITUDE OF LINCOLN IN HOUR OF TRIAL

HE man who stands for a principle must value duty higher than life. When Lincoln was told that it was sworn that he would never enter Washington alive, he determined to die if need be

only at the Nation's capital with his hand at the helm of state.

He had a work to do-and he intended to do it.

His journey was fraught with danger. There was a hurried conference with a messenger in his room at Harrisburg. A plot had been discovered to take his life. Kissing his wife and children good bye, he left them sobbing and slipped away into the night with two friends.

When Washington awakened on the morning of the twenty-fourth of February, it was startled to find that the new President, Abraham Lincoln, was in their midst; that he had entered the capital of the republic on a midnight train as a common passenger, unknown and unrecognized by his fellow-travelers, a stranger.

The National capital was in no welcoming mood. It was a Southern slave-holding community and looked upon Lincoln as a revolutionist who intended to set up a new system of government under the radical doctrines of a new republican party, which had come into being to destroy their property rights. The statesmen, who had known slavery as an American institution from the founding of the republic, looked upon the new party as a menace to the Nation and shook their heads in dismay. Here was a man who would upset the republic.

At daybreak on the fourth of March, in 1861, the city of Washington was astir. There was the clatter of cavalry and the tramp of the militia in the streets. The Senate had been in session the whole night long and the drowsy statesmen walked the corridors with sullen faces.

At noon the inaugural procession moved slowly over the historic route which almost every President since Jefferson had traveled to take his oath of office. Thousands of people crowded the streets. Around the presidential carriage rode the protecting guard of militia to thwart any attempt at assassination. Platoons of soldiers were stationed along the avenue. Riflemen were posted on the roof-tops, watching for the slightest sign of hostility, while cavalrymen guarded every approach from the side streets.

As Lincoln entered the Senate chamber, his pale face and black attire brought a stillness over the august body. He was leaning on the arm of an old man withered and bowed with age-President Buchanan, from whom he was now to lift the weight of a crumbling republic.