heir; had he reached that good old age to which his rigorous
constitution and his temperate habits gave promise; had he been
permitted to see the end of his great work; had the solemn curtain of
death come down but gradually, we should still have been smitten with a
heavy grief and treasured his name lovingly. But dying as he did die, by
the red hand of violence; killed, assassinated, taken off without
warning, not because of personal hate, but because of his fidelity to
Union and liberty, he is doubly dear to us and will be precious forever.
FREDERICK DOUGLASS.

From "Inauguration of the Freedmen's Memorial Monument to Abraham
Lincoln."

* * * * *

Let this be an occasion of joy. Why should it not be so! Is not the
heaven over your heads, which has so long been clothed in sackcloth,
beginning to disclose its starry principalities and illumine your
pathway? Do you not see the pitiless storm which, has so long been
pouring its rage upon you breaking away, and a bow of promise as
glorious as that which succeeded the ancient deluge spanning the sky--a
token that to the end of time the billows of prejudice and oppression
shall no more cover the earth to the destruction of your race; but
seedtime and harvest shall never fail, and the laborer shall eat the
fruit of his hands. Is not your cause developing like the spring? Yours
has been a long and rigorous winter. The chill of contempt, the frost of
adversity, the blast of persecution, the storm of oppression--all have
been yours. There was no substance to be found--no prospect to delight
the eye or inspire the drooping heart--no golden ray to dissipate the
gloom. The waves of derision were stayed by no barrier, but made a