of the Government were, as we know, consistent with that declaration. Does any one doubt now the sincerity of Abraham Lincoln when he made that declaration? Yet, on the 1st of January, 1863, he wrote “Abraham Lincoln” at the foot of that imperishable Proclamation which declares, “And by virtue of the power and for the purpose aforesaid, I do order and declare that all persons held as slaves within said designated States and parts of States are, and henceforward shall be free; and that the executive Government of the United States, including the military and naval authorities thereof, will recognize and maintain the freedom of said persons:” adding solemnly, “And upon this act, believed to be an act of justice, warranted by the Constitution upon military necessity, I invoke the considerate judgment of mankind and the gracious favor of Almighty God.” An English earl, the leader of a great party and representative of the aristocracy of England, has lately given to the world a new translation of the Iliad, which has been much and no doubt justly praised. An emperor, also, straying into the fields of authorship, has written a life of that Cæsar who, like himself, overthrew the liberties of the people and erected upon the ruins of the Republic the standard of imperial absolutism. Weigh these labored efforts against the few grand words of our beloved and martyred President, and say which are the heaviest. Compare them, and say which will live the longest. Write them down in history, and say which will occupy the largest space. Consider which is the grandest, the praise bestowed upon the accomplished and titled peer and the imperial monarch, or the grateful ejaculations of the poor slave women of Richmond, who, as he proceeded on foot through the crowded streets attended by twelve sailors in their round blue caps, recognized the tall form and the gaunt and craggy features of the President, and cried out in passionate ecstacy: “God bless you, Massa Lincoln! Bless the Lord Jesus we have seen this day!” We shall see that tall form no more. The great, good, wise, heroic President has gone to his great reward. He who so loved the Declaration of Independence, whose strong, clear mind so often and so powerfully defended its great principles, whose hand so bravely enforced its eternal truths, cannot unite with us in the celebration of the day which he so greatly revered and loved. Oh, how the heart of the people yearns for him to-day: for that care-worn, sad countenance, that rugged, manly form; those words of hope, of honest purpose, of high resolve, of humble trust in God. “Oh, slow to smite and swift to spare, Gentle, and merciful and just! Who, in the fear of God, didst bear The sword of power, a Nation’s trust “In sorrow by thy bier we stand, Amid the awe that hushes all; And speak the anguish of a land That shook with horror at thy fall.