[O]Music for this may be found inGolden Gleessong book, byS. C. Hanson. Price, thirty-five cents, postpaid.
[O]Music for this may be found inGolden Gleessong book, byS. C. Hanson. Price, thirty-five cents, postpaid.
LINCOLN SONG
Tune:TENTING ON THE OLD CAMP GROUND
WE ARE thinking today of a loved one lost,Lincoln, the true, the brave;Of the strong one who came, when tempest tossed,Our nation's bark to save.Chorus:Many are the hearts that are mourning today,Mourning for the brave laid low;Many are the eyes looking up to say,Oh, why must this be so!Help us to say, humbly we pray,Father, may Thy will be done!We are thinking today how he led us on,Just as the Lord led him,To the glorious victory well-nigh won;And our eyes with tears grow dim.Chorus: Many are the hearts, etc.We are weeping today, but the hour will come,Come when we all shall seeWhy the will of the Lord hath called him Home,No more with us to be.Chorus: Many are the hearts, etc.
THE NAME WE SING
Clara J. Denton
Tune:AMERICA
OF LINCOLN now we sing,Loud let the welkin ring,The sound prolong.He broke the bondsman's thrallAnd freedom brought to all,His mighty blows let fallThe shackles strong.This man of pure intent,Whose every thought was bentSweet peace to bring.O eyes so keen of view,O mighty heart so true,O soul with courage new,Of thee we sing.So long as human speechO'er this broad land shall reachFrom shore to shore,Here will his noble nameIts high place always claimUnequaled in its fameForever more.
HIS NAME
Clara J. Denton
Tune:MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA
IN OLD Kentucky's wilds in a cabin that we know,Before this day of days just one hundred years ago,A blue-eyed baby came to this world of strife and woe,And plain "Abraham" they called him.Chorus:O yes, O yes, for truth will make you free,O yes, O yes, sweet truth gives liberty.We'll sing this chorus over, and shout from sea to sea'Tis now "Honest Abe" we honor.But later on, because he the truth would always tell,Another name they gave him and it became him well;A name we'll always treasure, which none could buy or sell,And now "Honest Abe" we honor.Chorus: O yes, O yes, etc.And, now, if we could choose a great blessing for each youth,A something that would last till the end of life forsooth,We know we'd choose at once "Honest Abe's" great love for truth,And now "Honest Abe" we honor.Chorus: O yes, O yes, etc.To be the President is indeed an honor great,And most nobly did he bear his duty's heavy weight,But the name that first he won was more than royal state,And now "Honest Abe" we honor.Chorus: O yes, O yes, etc.
A SONG OF REJOICING
Clara J. Denton
Tune:THE BATTLE CRY OF FREEDOM
WE ARE children of one flag, friends, yes, of the colors three,And proudly we're singing of Lincoln.He it was who kept this country all safe for you and me,And proudly we're singing of Lincoln.Chorus: The old flag forever, hurrah! friends, hurrah!"To Lincoln we owe it"Shout from afar,While we rally 'round the flag, friends,Rally once again,Still proudly we're singing of Lincoln.And today we'll not forget while our flag is waving high,And gladly we're singing of Lincoln,All the soldier boys that fought and for us did bravely die.Still gladly we're singing of Lincoln.Chorus: The old flag forever, etc.Yes, the country that he saved we will honor ever more,While loudly we're singing of Lincoln.And the dear old flag shall wave still on high from shore to shore,While loudly we're singing of Lincoln.Chorus: The old flag forever, etc.Since for Freedom did he live, and for Freedom did he die,Now proudly we're singing of Lincoln.We will strive like him to keep all our standards pure and high,While proudly we're singing of Lincoln.Chorus: The old flag forever, etc.
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LINCOLN DEAR
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LINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY
Lincoln's Birthday - Concluded
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THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND
The Sunny Southland--Concluded
WHY DUMMY CLOCKS MARK 8:18
THERE are few who have not seen the ordinary sign of a jeweler, an immense imitation of a watch hanging over the front of the store. But it is safe to say that the number who have ever detected anything curious in these same signs is small. At 8:18 p. m., April 14, 1865, Abraham Lincoln was assassinated in Ford's Theatre at Washington by John Wilkes Booth. Since that fatal night every one of these watch-signs that has gone from the factory of the only man who makes them has shown the hour of 8:18. The man who makes them said: "I was working on a sign for Jeweler Adams, who kept a store on Broadway across the street from Stewart's. He came running in while I was at work and told me the news. 'Paint those hands at the hour Lincoln was shot, that the deed may never be forgotten,' he said. I did so. Since then every watch-sign that has gone out of here has been lettered the same as that one."
—Journal of Education
LINCOLN'S TENDERNESS
WHEN Lincoln was on his way to the National Cemetery at Gettysburg, an old gentleman told him that his only son fell on Little Round Top at Gettysburg and he was going to look at the spot.
Mr. Lincoln replied: "You have been called on to make a terrible sacrifice for the Union, and a visit to that spot, I fear, will open your wounds afresh.
"But, oh, my dear sir, if we had reached the end of such sacrifices, and had nothing left for us to do but to place garlands on the graves of those who have already fallen, we could give thanks even amidst our tears; but when I think of the sacrifices of life yet to be offered, and the hearts and homes yet to be made desolate before this dreadful war is over, my heart is like lead within me, and I feel at times like hiding in deep darkness."
At one of the stopping places of the train a beautiful little girl, having a bunch of rosebuds in her hand, was held up to an open window of the President's car, lisping, "Flowerth for the Prethident." The President stepped to the window, took the rosebuds, bent down and kissed the child, saying: "You are a sweet little rosebud yourself! I hope your life will open into perpetual beauty and goodness."
GRANTING A PARDON
Thisstory, probably better than any other, illustrates the noble and sublime qualities of our great Lincoln. It is a forceful illustration of his justice—justice tempered with mercy.
Thisstory, probably better than any other, illustrates the noble and sublime qualities of our great Lincoln. It is a forceful illustration of his justice—justice tempered with mercy.
"WELL, my child," he said, in his pleasant, cheerful tone, "what do you want so bright and early in the morning?"
"Bennie's life, please," faltered Blossom.
"Bennie? Who is Bennie?"
My brother, sir. They are going to shoot him for sleeping at his post.
"Oh, yes;" and Mr. Lincoln ran his eye over the papers before him. "I remember. It was a fatal sleep. You see, child, it was a time of special danger. Thousands of lives might have been lost for his culpable negligence."
"So my father said," replied Blossom, gravely; "but poor Bennie was so tired and Jemmie so weak. He did the work of two, sir, and it was Jemmie's night, not his; but Jemmie was too tired, and Bennie never thought about himself, that he was tired, too."
"What is this you say, child? Come here; I do not understand," and the kind man caught eagerly, as ever, at what seemed to be a justification of an offense.
Blossom went to him; he put his hand tenderly on her shoulder and turned up the pale, anxious face toward his. How tall he seemed! and he was the President of the United States, too. But Blossom told her simple and straightforward story, and handed Mr. Lincoln Bennie's letter to read.
He read it carefully; then, taking up his pen, wrote a few hasty lines and rang his bell.
Blossom heard this order given: "Send this dispatch at once."
The President then turned to the girl and said: "Go home, my child, and tell that father of yours, who could approve his country's sentence even when it took the life of a child like that, that Abraham Lincoln thinks the life far too precious to be lost. Go back—or wait until tomorrow. Bennie will need a change after he has so bravely faced death; he shall go with you."
"God bless you, sir," said Blossom; and who shall doubt that God heard and registered the request?
Two days after this interview the young soldier came to the White House with his little sister. He was called into the President's private office and a strap fastened upon his shoulder. Mr. Lincoln then said: "The soldier that could carry a sick comrade's baggage and die for the act so uncomplainingly deserves well of his country." Then Bennie and Blossom took their way to their green mountain home. A crowd gathered at the Mill depot to welcome them back; and as Farmer Owen's hand grasped that of his boy, tears flowed down his cheeks, and he was heard to say fervently: "The Lord be praised!"
LINCOLN'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY
Thisis what Abraham Lincoln himself had to say of his own and his family history, in a letter to his friend, the Hon. Jesse W. Fell, of Bloomington, Ill., under date of December 20, 1859—the year preceding his election to the Presidency, and about the time his friends were beginning to think seriously of his nomination:
Thisis what Abraham Lincoln himself had to say of his own and his family history, in a letter to his friend, the Hon. Jesse W. Fell, of Bloomington, Ill., under date of December 20, 1859—the year preceding his election to the Presidency, and about the time his friends were beginning to think seriously of his nomination:
"IWAS born February 12, 1809, in Hardin County, Kentucky. My parents were both born in Virginia, of distinguished families—second families, perhaps I should say. My mother, who died in my tenth year, was of a family of the name of Hanks, some ofwhom now reside in Adams and others in Macon County, Illinois. My paternal grandfather, Abraham Lincoln, emigrated from Rockingham County, Virginia, to Kentucky, about 1781 or 1782, where, a year or two later, he was killed by Indians, not in battle, but by stealth, when he was laboring to open a farm in the forest. His ancestors, who were Quakers, went to Virginia from Berks County, Pennsylvania. An effort to identify them with the New England family of the same name ended in nothing more than a similarity of Christian names in both families, such as Enoch, Levi, Mordecai, Solomon, Abraham, and the like.
"My father, at the death of his father, was but six years of age, and he grew up literally without education. He removed from Kentucky to what is now Spencer County, Indiana, in my eighth year. We reached our new home about the time the State came into the Union (1816). It was a wild region, with many bears and other wild animals still in the woods. There I grew up. There were some schools, so-called, but no qualification was ever required of a teacher beyond 'reading, 'ritin', and 'cipherin' to the Rule of Three. If a straggler, supposed to understand Latin, happened to sojourn in the neighborhood he was looked upon as a wizard. There was absolutely nothing to excite ambition for education. Of course, when I came of age, I did not know much. Still, somehow, I could read, write, and cipher to the Rule of Three, but that was all. I have not been to school since. The little advance I now have upon this store of education I have picked up from time to time under the pressure of necessity.
"I was raised to farm-work, which I continued until I was twenty-two. At twenty-one I came to Illinois and passed the first year in Macon County. Then I got to New Salem, at that time in Sangamon, now in Menard County, where I remained a year as a sort of clerk in a store. Then came the Black Hawk War and I was elected a captain of volunteers—a success which gave me morepleasure than any I have had since. I went through the campaign, was elected, ran for the Legislature in the same year (1832), and was beaten—the only time I have ever been beaten by the people. The next, and three succeeding biennial elections, I was elected to the Legislature. I was not a candidate afterwards. During this legislative period I had studied law and removed to Springfield to practice it. In 1846 I was once elected to the lower House of Congress, but was not a candidate for reëlection. From 1849 to 1854, both inclusive, practiced law more assiduously than ever before. Always a Whig in politics, and generally on the Whig electoral ticket making active canvasses. I was losing interest in politics when the repeal of the Missouri Compromise aroused me again. What I have done since then is pretty well known.
"If any personal description of me is thought desirable it may be said I am, in height, six feet four inches, nearly; lean in flesh, weighing, on an average, one hundred and eighty pounds; dark complexion, with coarse black hair, and gray eyes. No other marks or brands recollected.
"Yours truly,
"A. Lincoln."
HOW THEY SANG THE "STAR SPANGLED BANNER" WHEN LINCOLN WAS INAUGURATED
Thomas Nast
IWAS in Washington a few days prior to the inauguration of Lincoln in 1861, having been sent by the Harpers to take sketches when that event should come off. I did nothing but walk around the city and feel the public pulse, so to speak. There was no necessity of saying anything to anybody. You intuitively recognized that trouble was brewing. Many people had sworn that Lincolnshould not be inaugurated. Their utterances had fired the Northern heart, and the people loyal to the old flag were just as determined that the lawfully elected President should be inaugurated, though blood should flow in the attempt.
It was an awful time. People looked different then than they do now. Little knots of men could be seen conversing together in whispers on street corners, and even the whispers ceased when a person unknown to them approached. Everybody seemed to suspect everyone else. Women looked askance at each other, and children obliged to be out would scurry home as if frightened, probably having been given warning by the parents.
The streets at night, for several nights prior to the inaugural ceremonies, were practically deserted. There was a hush over everything. It seemed to me that the shadow of death was hovering near. I had constantly floating before my eyes sable plumes and trappings of woe. I could hear dirges constantly and thought for a while that I would have to leave the place or go crazy.
I knew that all these somber thoughts were but imagination, but I also knew that the something which had influenced my imagination was tangible—really existed.
The 4th of March came and Mr. Lincoln was inaugurated quietly and without ostentation. After the services were over and it became known that Mr. Lincoln had really been inducted into office there was a savage snarl went up from the disaffected ones.
The snarl was infectious.
It was answered by just as savage growls all over the city. But nothing was said. A single yell of defiance, a pistol-shot, or even an oath would have precipitated a conflict.
Men simply glared at each other and gnashed their teeth, but were careful not to grit them so it could be heard. I went to my room in the Willard and sat down to do some work. I couldn't work. The stillness was oppressive.
At least a dozen times I picked up my pencils, only to throw them down again. I got up and paced the floor nervously. I heard men on either side of me doing the same thing. Walking didn't relieve the severe mental strain. I sat down in my chair and pressed my head in my hands.
Suddenly I heard a window go up and someone step out on the balcony of the Ebbit House, directly opposite. Everybody in the hotel had heard him.
What is he going to do? I asked myself, and I suppose everyone else propounded the same mental interrogation.
We hadn't to wait long.
He began to sing the Star-Spangled Banner in a clear, strong voice.
The effect was magical, electrical. One window went up, and another, and heads popped out all over the neighborhood. People began to stir on the streets. A crowd soon gathered. The grand old song was taken up and sung by thousands.
The spell was broken, and when the song was finished tongues were loosened, and cheer after cheer rent the air.
The man rooming next to me rapped on my door and insisted that I should take a walk with him. As we passed along the corridors we were joined by others, men wild with joy, some of them weeping and throwing their arms around each other's neck.
Others were singing and all were happy.
Washington was itself again. The "Star-Spangled Banner" had saved it.
LINCOLN'S FAVORITE POEM
MORTALITY
(O WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL BE PROUD?)
"Theevening of March 22, 1864," says F. B. Carpenter, "was a most interesting one to me. I was with the President alone in his office for several hours. Busy with pen and papers when I wentin, he presently threw them aside and commenced talking to me of Shakespeare, of whom he was very fond. Little Tad, his son, coming in, he sent to the library for a copy of the plays, and then read to me several of his favorite passages. Relapsing into a sadder strain, he laid the book aside, and leaning back in his chair said:"'There is a poem which has been a great favorite with me for years, which was first shown to me when a young man by a friend, and which I afterward saw and cut from a newspaper and learned by heart. I would,' he continued, 'give a great deal to know who wrote it,[P]but I have never been able to ascertain.' Then, half-closing his eyes, he repeated the verses to me as follows:"
"Theevening of March 22, 1864," says F. B. Carpenter, "was a most interesting one to me. I was with the President alone in his office for several hours. Busy with pen and papers when I wentin, he presently threw them aside and commenced talking to me of Shakespeare, of whom he was very fond. Little Tad, his son, coming in, he sent to the library for a copy of the plays, and then read to me several of his favorite passages. Relapsing into a sadder strain, he laid the book aside, and leaning back in his chair said:
"'There is a poem which has been a great favorite with me for years, which was first shown to me when a young man by a friend, and which I afterward saw and cut from a newspaper and learned by heart. I would,' he continued, 'give a great deal to know who wrote it,[P]but I have never been able to ascertain.' Then, half-closing his eyes, he repeated the verses to me as follows:"
[P]This poem was written byWilliam Knox, a Scotchman.
[P]This poem was written byWilliam Knox, a Scotchman.
OWHY should the spirit of mortal be proud?Like a fast-flitting meteor, a fast-flying cloud,A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,He passes 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 moulder to dust, and together shall lie.The child that a mother attended and loved,The mother that infant's affection that proved,The husband that mother and infant that blessed,Each, all, are away to their dwelling 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 that beloved her and praisedAre 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 to the steep,The beggar that wandered in search of his bread,Have faded away like the grass that we tread.The saint that enjoyed the communion of heaven,The sinner that 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 and the weedThat wither 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 that our fathers have been;We see the same sights that our fathers have seen,—We drink the same stream, and we feel the same sun,And we run the same course that our fathers have run.The thoughts we are thinking, our fathers would think;From the death we are shrinking from, they too would shrink;To the life we are clinging to, they too would cling;But it speeds from the earth like a bird on the wing.They loved, but their story we cannot unfold;They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold;They grieved, but no wail from their slumbers will come;They enjoyed, but the voice of their gladness is dumb.They died, ay! they died! and we things that are now,That walk on the turf that lies over their brow,Who make in their dwellings a transient abode,Meet the changes they met on their pilgrimage road.Yea! hope and despondence, and pleasure and pain,Are mingled together in sunshine and rain;And the smile and the tear, and 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,—O why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
THE GETTYSBURG ADDRESS
Thisaddress of Abraham Lincoln's was delivered at the dedication of the National Cemetery, Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, November 19, 1863. The great battles fought at Gettysburg, in July, 1863, made that spot historic ground. It was early perceived that the battles were critical, and they are now looked upon as the turning-point of the war of the Union. The ground where the fiercest conflict raged was taken for a national cemetery, and the dedication of the place was made an occasion of great solemnity. The orator of the day was Edward Everett, who was regarded as the most finished public speaker in the country. Mr. Everett made a long and eloquent address, and was followed by the President in a short and simple speech which deeply affected its hearers, and later the country, as a great speech. The impression created on the audience has deepened with time. Mr. Stanton's (Secretary of War in Lincoln's Cabinet) prophecy as to the lasting qualities of the President's address has materialized. He said: "Edward Everett has made a speech that will make many columns in the newspapers, and Mr. Lincoln's perhaps forty or fifty lines. Everett's is the speech of a scholar, polished to the last possibility. It is elegant and it is learned; but Lincoln's speech will be read by a thousand men where one reads Everett's, and will be remembered as long as anybody's speeches are remembered who speaks the English language."
Thisaddress of Abraham Lincoln's was delivered at the dedication of the National Cemetery, Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, November 19, 1863. The great battles fought at Gettysburg, in July, 1863, made that spot historic ground. It was early perceived that the battles were critical, and they are now looked upon as the turning-point of the war of the Union. The ground where the fiercest conflict raged was taken for a national cemetery, and the dedication of the place was made an occasion of great solemnity. The orator of the day was Edward Everett, who was regarded as the most finished public speaker in the country. Mr. Everett made a long and eloquent address, and was followed by the President in a short and simple speech which deeply affected its hearers, and later the country, as a great speech. The impression created on the audience has deepened with time. Mr. Stanton's (Secretary of War in Lincoln's Cabinet) prophecy as to the lasting qualities of the President's address has materialized. He said: "Edward Everett has made a speech that will make many columns in the newspapers, and Mr. Lincoln's perhaps forty or fifty lines. Everett's is the speech of a scholar, polished to the last possibility. It is elegant and it is learned; but Lincoln's speech will be read by a thousand men where one reads Everett's, and will be remembered as long as anybody's speeches are remembered who speaks the English language."
FOURSCORE and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We havecome to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us,—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion,—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain,—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom,—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.
EVENTS IN THE LIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
A LIST OF IMPORTANT FACTS CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED
Transcriber NoteThe illustration provided at the end of The Internet Archive was assumed to be the cover for this volume and was moved before the frontispiece. All footnotes were placed as near their anchors as possible.
Transcriber Note
The illustration provided at the end of The Internet Archive was assumed to be the cover for this volume and was moved before the frontispiece. All footnotes were placed as near their anchors as possible.