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Page 42
At last peace seemed to be in sight. The North had sacrificed the
blood of thousands of its men as well as the wealth of its treasuries.
The South, in the same manner, had not only lost tens of thousands of
its bravest men, but it was utterly ruined, on account of the terrible
punishment the war had inflicted upon that sunny land.
Richmond, the stronghold of the rebellion, had fallen, and victory was
on the side of the Union. Amidst universal rejoicings, there came the
saddest news. On the 14th day of April, 1865, Abraham Lincoln was
assassinated.
The whole nation was thrown into deepest mourning. The noble heart of
Lincoln beat no more. He is called the "Martyr President."
His remains were taken to Springfield, Illinois, where they rest at the
foot of a small hill in Oakwood Cemetery. A simple monument, with the
name--"Lincoln"--upon it, is the only epitaph of him, who next to
Washington was the greatest man of our glorious Republic.
LESSON LX
ADDRESS DELIVERED AT THE DEDICATION OF THE CEMETERY AT GETTYSBURG
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this
continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the
proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a
great civil war testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived
and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field
of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a
final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that the nation
might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate--we cannot consecrate--we
cannot hallow--this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who
struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or
detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say
here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the
living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they
who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us
to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us--that from
these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which
they gave the last full measure of devotion--that we here highly
resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain--that this nation,
under God, shall have a new birth of freedom--and that government of
the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the
earth.
_Abraham Lincoln_.
November 19th, 1863.
SELECTION XVIII
THE PICKET OF THE POTOMAC
"All quiet along the Potomac," they say,
"Except now and then a stray picket
Is shot as he walks on his beat to and fro,
By a rifleman hid in the thicket."
'Tis nothing--a private or two now and then
Will not count in the tale of the battle;
Not an officer lost--only one of the men
Breathing out all alone the death-rattle.
All quiet along the Potomac to-night,
Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming,
Their tents in the ray of the clear autumn moon,
And the light of the watch-fires gleaming.
A tremulous sigh from the gentle night wind
Through the forest leaves slowly is creeping,
While the stars up above, with their glittering eyes,
Keep watch while the army is sleeping.
There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread,
As he tramps from the rock to the fountain,
And thinks of the two in the low trundle-bed
Far away in the hut on the mountain.
His musket falls slack; his face, dark and grim,
Grows gentle with memories tender,
As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep,
For their mother,--may heaven defend her!
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