THE MAGNANIMITY OF THE SPIRIT OF LINCOLN

"IFE'S great question is not alone how did you bear yourself in defeat, but how did you bear yourself in victory. As Lincoln walked through the streets of the destroyed capital of the Confederacy, his eyes looked upon ruin and devastation; starvation and pillage. The flames were still smoldering in the noble capital.

Before him stood the White House of the Confederacy, from which, only thirty-six hours before, the statesmen of the "Lost Cause" had fled for safety. Ascending the steps, he entered the stately mansion. There lay a great desk, with a huge chair, deserted.

"It must have been President Davis' chair," he said, as he sank into it wearily, relaxing himself against its comfortable back and resting his hands on its arms. The lines upon his forehead deepened. "Judge not," he said, thoughtfully, "that ye be not judged!"

The boat bearing Lincoln sailed up the Potomac, to take him back to the capital of the Republic at Washington. His eyes fell upon the white dome. An expression of dread came to the face of Mrs. Lincoln, who was now with him. "That city," she whispered, in apprehension, "is full of our enemies!" Lincoln turned, and with perplexed expression, he exclaimed, "Enemies! we must never speak that word again!"

The evening was falling. Mount Vernon loomed in the distance. Lincoln looked out into the gathering twilight. "Springfield!" he said, in reverie. "How happy, four years hence to return there in peace and tranquility!"

The Nation's capital was waiting in expectancy. The air was rent with exploding rockets. Crowds gathered in front of the White House and cheered. The throngs outside called for "Lincoln! Lincoln!"

"Fellow Citizens," he said, "We meet this evening not in sorrow but in gladness of heart. . . In the happiness of all this, however, Him from Whom all blessings flow must not be forgotten. I call for a National Thanksgiving which is being prepared and will be duly promulgated."

A great cheer arose from the serenaders. The martial notes of the "Star Spangled Banner" passed through the crowd. Lincoln stood with his head bared. As the refrain ceased, he raised his hand and called: "Give us Dixie! We have a right to that tune now!" As he turned and entered the White House, the strains of the hymn of the South-land fell upon his ears and echoed through his heart. "This," he said, "is one of the happiest moments of my life."

Photograph taken in Washington in 1865 shortly before the Hosts of the South and the Legions of the North clasped hands in Peace-Original negative by Mathew Brady now considered the greatest portrait of Lincoln ever taken

Deposited in the Original Brady Collection at Springfield, Massachusetts

THE VICTORY OF LINCOLN-A REUNITED PEOPLE

EACE bath its victories no less than war. Through all the four years of magnificent courage there is not a moment more inspiring than that April day when the hosts of the South stood before the legions of the North to pledge themselves to peace and brotherhood. In an heroic stand, the warriors of the Confederacy had made their last gallant charge under the Stars and Bars. Now they stood before the victorious warriors of the Republic, welcoming peace with the same brave hearts with which they faced battle.

The two greatest generals that the world has ever known stood face to face-Grant and Lee. Behind them were the armies in the mightiest struggle that has ever been recorded in human annals. There stood the silent, little general, the conqueror; in his uniform of blue; his figure, of five feet eight inches, slightly bent; there was no sword in his hand; only his shoulder straps to designate him from the rank of a private soldier. There stood the gallant leader of the Confederacy in his uniform of gray; his silver hair crowning his erect figure of six feet in height; at his side he carried a long sword, the hilt studded with jewels.

The war was over. The camp fires were left to smolder into ashes; the flags were tenderly furled; and two great armies sheathed their swords. Along the roads moved regiments of men, no longer foes, but citizens of a common country. The rattle of the artillery; the rumbling wheels of the ammunition trains; all in the pageant of peace-echoed through the streets.

Lincoln stood and gazed long upon them. The long night of bloodshed had ended. The day of peace and love had dawned. He looked upon a portrait of the conquered commander of the Confederacy.

"It is a good face," he said. "It is the face of a noble, brave man. I am glad that the war is over at last. We soon will live with the brave men who have been fighting against us. I trust that the era of good feeling has returned and that henceforth we will live in peace."

And, turning to his family, his heart trying to lift the veil of tragedy that had so long enshrouded it, he said: "It is nearly over; now we shall be happy." Throughout the hills and dales resounded the shouts of rejoicing. Mothers clasped their long lost sons to their hearts; and children climbed into the arms of their fathers who had come home at last.

The war was over! The miracle of the reunited people had been performed. And above it all loomed the tall, strong figure of one manAbraham Lincoln.

THE VEIL OF SORROW OVER AN EXULTANT NATION

O man knows what the morrow may bring forth. We live today, but what of the morning? The morning of the fourteenth of April, in 1865, was bright and warm. The balm of spring bathed the hills. The Judas and the dog-wood bent in the the breeze; the perfume of the lilacs floated through the morning air.

It was Good Friday, the nation's day of prayer and thanksgiving. Lincoln rose early. A great weight seemed to have lifted. Today he was to clasp the hand of Grant, the silent, little general who had led his armies to triumph. Today the flag of the republic, which had been lowered from Fort Sumter four years ago, was to be unfurled over the ruins. Today his oldest son was to return from the war with a captain's commission.

As Lincoln took his seat at the head of the cabinet table, his grave, sad eyes smiled; the haggard lines in his face seemed to disappear. He greeted his ministers with words of affection, and, as he dropped his arm upon the shoulders of one of his statesmen, he drew him close to him in hearty embrace in their rejoicing over the end of the mighty struggle.

"The war is over," he said. "Enough lives have been sacrificed. We must extinguish all resentment if we expect harmony and Union.”

He grasped the hands of his cabinet ministers, and, entreating them to be considerate of the vanquished foes, he left them and was soon driving with his wife along the country roads on this beautiful spring day.

As the carriage rumbled along the blossom-laden lanes, he turned to her and said: "Mary, we have had a hard time of it since we came to Washington, but the war is over, and with God's permission we may hope for four years of happiness and peace, and then we will go back to Illinois. and pass the rest of our lives in quiet."

He spoke of the old home in Springfield, and the recollections of his early days came crowding back to him. He spoke of their early struggles together and of their future. "We have laid by some money," he said "and during this term we will try to save up more. Then we will go home.' The night fell. Throughout the nation, in a hundred thousand homes, loved ones were gathering in reunion and thanksgiving. Now and then there was a cheer, or the beat of a drum at the head of the soldiers marching home. Suddenly, a great tumult arose in the streets. Newsboys ran excitedly over the pavements. Great throngs gathered at the bulletins. "Lincoln has been assassinated! The President has been shot!" The crowds in the streets seemed stunned.