The horrified audience was thunderstruck. The President lay quite still: the bullet had passed right through his head. The wound was mortal. He was carried to a house across the street, where he lay, quite unconscious, till the morning, surrounded by his friends, their faces as pale and haggard as his own. About seven, “a look of unspeakable peace came upon his worn features.” Stanton, the War Secretary, rose from his knees by his side, saying, “Now he belongs to the ages.” There was profound sorrow through the whole of America; sorrow that checked all rejoicings over the victory of the North. Thus, indirectly, Lincoln’s death helped the reconciliation between North and South, though nothing could counterbalance the loss of his wise guidance. Washington was shrouded in black: even the poorest inhabitants showing their sorrow in their dress. The body was taken to Springfield, Illinois, to be buried; and all the towns on the way showed their deep mourning and respect. Now, and not till now, did Americans begin to understand what a man they had lost. “He knew to bide his time, And can his fame abide, Still patient in his simple faith sublime Till the wise years decide. Great captains with their guns and drums Disturb our judgment for the hour, But at last silence comes: These all are gone, and, standing like a tower, Our children shall behold his fame, The kindly, earnest, brave, far-seeing man, Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame, New birth of our new soil, the first American.” So James Russell Lowell wrote of Lincoln when the celebration of Independence Day in the year of his death revived the vivid sense of loss. The passage of years have only made clearer how great he was. Perfectly simple, perfectly sincere, he thought out for himself an ideal, and spent the whole of his life and all his strength in pursuing it. He loved America, not because it was powerful and strong, but because it had been based on a great idea--the idea of liberty: his work for America was to realise that idea. He never thought of his own personal success: he wanted to be President because he saw a great work to be done and believed that he could do it. He never became rich: his own tastes remained entirely simple. He was said to have worn the same top-hat all his life. The first thing that struck any one about Lincoln was his extraordinary appearance. He always dressed in black, with a big black tie, very often untied, or in the wrong place: his clothes looked as if they had been made to fit some one else, and had never been new. His feet were enormous; so were his hands, covered on state occasions with white kid gloves. In cold weather he used to wear a large grey shawl instead of an overcoat. One day, before he was made President, some friends were discussing Lincoln and Douglas, and comparing their heights. When Lincoln came into the room some one asked him, “How long ought a man’s legs to be?”