bravely to the last, but all in vain. Richmond fell. Lincoln himself
entered the city on foot, accompanied only by a few officers and a squad
of sailors who had rowed him ashore from the flotilla in the James River,
a negro picked up on the way serving as a guide. Never had the world
seen a more modest conqueror and a more characteristic triumphal
procession, no army with banners and drums, only a throng of those who
had been slaves, hastily run together, escorting the victorious chief
into the capital of the vanquished foe. We are told that they pressed
around him, kissed his hands and his garments, and shouted and danced for
joy, while tears ran down the President's care-furrowed cheeks.

A few days more brought the surrender of Lee's army, and peace was
assured. The people of the North were wild with joy. Everywhere festive
guns were booming, bells pealing, the churches ringing with
thanksgivings, and jubilant multitudes thronging the thoroughfares, when
suddenly the news flashed over the land that Abraham Lincoln had been
murdered. The people were stunned by the blow. Then a wail of sorrow
went up such as America had never heard before. Thousands of Northern
households grieved as if they had lost their dearest member. Many a
Southern man cried out in his heart that his people had been robbed of
their best friend in their humiliation and distress, when Abraham Lincoln
was struck down. It was as if the tender affection which his countrymen
bore him had inspired all nations with a common sentiment. All civilized
mankind stood mourning around the coffin of the dead President. Many of
those, here and abroad, who not long before had ridiculed and reviled him
were among the first to hasten on with their flowers of eulogy, and in
that universal chorus of lamentation and praise there was not a voice
that did not tremble with genuine emotion. Never since Washington's
death had there been such unanimity of judgment as to a man's virtues and
greatness; and even Washington's death, although his name was held in