The next time Helen Pitts heard Douglass speak was on the occasion of the unveiling of the Freedmen’s Monument in Lincoln Park. Negroes throughout the United States had raised the money for this monument to Lincoln; and on a spring day, when once more the lilacs were in bloom, they called together the great ones of the country to pause and think. Helen had never before witnessed such an array of dignitaries--the President of the United States, his Cabinet, judges of the Supreme Court, members of the Senate and House of Representatives. “Few facts could better illustrate the vast and wonderful change which has taken place in our condition as a people,” Douglass, the ex-slave, told the hushed crowd, “than our assembling here today.... It is the first time that, in this form and manner, we have sought to do honor to an American great man, however deserving and illustrious. I commend the fact to notice. Let it be told in every part of the Republic. Let men of all parties and opinions hear it. Let those who despise us, not less than those who respect us, know it and that now and here, in the spirit of liberty, loyalty and gratitude, we unite in this act of reverent homage. Let it be known everywhere, and by everybody who takes an interest in human progress and in the amelioration of the condition of mankind, that ... we, the colored people, newly emancipated and rejoicing in our blood-bought freedom, near the close of the first century in the life of this Republic, have now and here unveiled, set apart, and dedicated a monument of enduring granite and bronze, in every line, feature, and figure of which men may read ... something of the exalted character and great works of Abraham Lincoln, the first martyr-President of the United States.” Douglass spoke as one who loved and mourned a friend. And when the last word was said, men turned and walked away in silence. “He is the noblest of them all!” Helen Pitts said to herself. * * * * * Douglass sat that night at home in his study, his head bowed in his hands. Lincoln had been struck down, his face turned toward the future; he had been struck down as he walked in the road. And they had not carried on. The nation had failed Lincoln and new chaos was upon them. “_You are caught up in a rosy cloud, Douglass._” He had been with the Senator from Massachusetts when he died. With his last breath Charles Sumner had pleaded for the Civil Rights Bill--his bill. He had died fighting for it. Douglass had pinned his faith on the ballot. He shuddered. Armed men were now riding through the night, marking their course by whipping, shooting, maiming and mutilating men, women and children. They were entering houses by force, shooting the inmates as they fled, destroying lives and property. All because the blacks were trying to use their ballot.