It may be doubted if there was in those wild days in all North America one man who to such wise forbearance added such firmness and moral courage as President Lincoln manifested. By it he preserved Maryland, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Missouri, and, if moderation could have availed, he might have kept Virginia. Strange as it seems, while the seceding states were threatening officially, and hastening to carry out, all the outrages of war, the Legislature of Virginia resolved that President Lincoln’s mild message announced a policy of tyranny and “coercion;” and, in spite of the gentlest letter of explanation ever written by any ruler who was not a coward, the state marched out of the Union with drums beating and flags flying. “Thenceforth,” says Holland, “Virginia went straight towards desolation. Its ‘sacred soil’ was from that hour devoted to trenches, fortifications, battle-fields, military roads, camps, and graves.” She firmly believed that all the fighting would be done on Northern soil; but in another year, over a large part of her territory, which had been covered with fertile farms and pleasant villages, there were roads five miles wide. At this time, there occurred an interesting private incident in Lincoln’s life. His old adversary, Judge Douglas, whom he warmly respected as a brave adversary, had passed his life in pandering to slavery, and, as regards the war, had been the political Mephistopheles who had made all the mischief. But when Sumter was fired on, all that was good and manly in his nature was aroused, and he gave all his support to his old enemy. “During the brief remainder of his life, his devotion to the cause of his country was unwearied. He was done with his dreams of power,” but he could yet do good. He was of service in inducing great numbers of Democrats, who still remained pro-slavery men in principle, to fight for the Union. Four years to an hour after the memorable reconciliation between Judge Douglas and President Lincoln, the latter was killed by the rebel Booth. “Both died,” says Holland, “with a common purpose--one in the threatening morning of the rebellion, the other when its sun had just set in blood; and both sleep in the dust of that magnificent state, almost every rod of which, within a quarter of a century, had echoed to their contending voices, as they expounded their principles to the people.”