cry which was raised against him. English writers degraded themselves to the level of the coarsest caricaturists when they had to tell of ABRAHAM LINCOLN. They stooped to criticise a foreign patriot as a menial might comment on the bearing of a hero. They sneered at his manners, as if Cromwell was a Chesterfield; they accused him of ugliness, as if Mirabeau was a beauty; they made coarse pleasantry of his figure, as if Peel was a posture-master; they were facetious about his dress, as if Cavour was a D'Orsay; they were indignant about his jokes, as if Palmerston never jested. We do not remember any instance since the wildest days of British fury against the 'Corsican Ogre,' in which a foreign statesman was ever so dealt with in English writings as Mr. LINCOLN. And when we make the comparison we cannot but remember that while Napoleon was our unscrupulous enemy Lincoln was our steady friend. Assailed by the coarsest attacks on this side the ocean, tried by the sorest temptations on that, ABRAHAM LINCOLN calmly and steadfastly maintained a policy of peace with England, and never did a deed, never wrote or spoke a word which was unjust or unfriendly to the British nation. Had such a man died by the hand of disease in the hour of his triumph the world must That he has fallen by the

have mourned for his loss.

coward hand of a vile assassin exasperates and embitters the grief beyond any power of language to

express.

Had LINCOLN been a vain man he might almost have ambitioned such a death. The weapon of the murderer has made sure for him an immortal place in history. Disappointment, failure, political change, popular caprice, the efforts of rivals, the malice of enemies, can touch him no more. He lived long enough to accomplish his great patriotic work, and then he became its martyr. It would be idle to speculate as yet upon the effect which his cruel death will produce upon the political fortunes of his country; but the destinies of that country will be cared for. Its hopes are too well sustained to faint and fall even over the grave of so great a patriot and so wise a leader as ABRAHAM LINCOLN. There are still clear and vigorous intellects left to conduct what remains of LINCOLN'S work to a triumphant conclusion. Dramatic justice has, indeed been marvellously wreaked thus far upon the criminal pride of the south. A negro regiment was the first to enter Richmond, and now one of the poor whites, the 'white trash' of a southern state, is called to receive from the south its final submission. We trust and feel assured that even in this hour of just indignation and natural excitement the north may still bear itself with that magnanimous clemency which thus far has illumined its triumph. But it may be that the conquered south has yet to learn that it too must mourn over the bloody grave to which ABRAHAM LINCOLN has been consigned by a southern assassin's hand."

On other pages of the same paper, was published the story of the life of Abraham Lincoln, from which, for the purpose of illustrating the fervor with which the cause of the United States was upheld by millions of Englishmen, and the exultation with which they viewed the onward march of freedom and humanity, the following extracts are taken.

"In the moment of victory, Abraham Lincoln has been stricken to death. Not on the battle field, where so many noble patriots have laid down their lives for freedom, not by the unseen shaft of disease before which the greatest and noblest must sooner or later fall -but brutally murdered by an assassin of the slave power while he sat beside his wife enjoying a much needed relaxation from the heavy cares of state. Noble, generous, forgiving, his only thoughts since the capture of Richmond have been of mercy. At a meeting of the cabinet on the morning of his death he spoke very kindly of Lee, and others of the confederates, and while his thoughts were thus all of forgiveness, the miscreant stole behind him and shot him through the brain. Unconscious from the moment he received the fatal wound, the great and noble-hearted patriot breathed his last on the following morning. Nothing else was needed to sanctify the name and memory of Abraham Lincoln to the people of the United States, and to all lovers of freedom throughout the world, than this his martyr-death. Raised from the ranks of the common people to take

C

upon himself the responsibility of the most gigantic struggle the world has ever witnessed between the forces of freedom and slavery, he guided the destinies of his country with unwavering hand through all the terrors and dangers of the conflict, and placed her so high and safe among the nations of the world that the dastards of despotism dare no longer question the strength and majesty of freedom. With a firm faith in his God, his country, and his principles of freedom for all men, whatever their color and condition, he has stood unmoved amid the shock of armies and the clamors of faction; he quailed not when defeat in the field seemed to herald the triumph of the foe; he boasted not of victory, nor sought to arrogate to himself the honors of the great deeds which have resounded through the world; but, gentle and modest as he was great and good, he took the chaplet from his own brow to place it on the lowly graves of the soldiers whose blood has been so liberally poured forth to consecrate the soil of America for freedom. He dies and makes no sign, but the impress of his noble character and aims will be borne by his country while time endures. He dies, but his country lives; freedom has triumphed; the broken chains at the feet of the slaves are the mute witnesses of his victory. It was on the evening of the fourteenth of April, the day which saw the federal flag raised once more on Fort Sumter amid the hoarse reverberation of cannon and the cheers of liberated slaves, that the President re

ceived his death blow. The wretched conspirators who sought to destroy their country that slavery might triumph over its ruins panted for Lincoln's life since the day he was first elected to guide the destinies of the republic. When in the act of passing from his home in Illinois to assume the reins of office he was apprised by General Scott that the barbarians of slavery had resolved to assassinate him. The plan was to raise a riot in Baltimore as he passed through that city on his way to Washington, and in the midst of the tumult Mr. Lincoln was to be slain. The messenger who brought the news of the conspiracy to Mr. Lincoln at Harrisburg was Frederick W. Seward, son of the statesman who now lies low beside his chief, stricken down by another desperate miscreant on the same day as the President. Mr. Lincoln, with his usual prudence, at once stopped in his triumphal progress towards the capital, and, disguised as a countryman, passed safely through Baltimore by the night train, and arrived at the White House in Washington. The speech which he made to his neighbors of Springfield when he set out on his perilous mission has a mournful interest in view of his sudden and awful death. At the railway depot on Monday, the eleventh of February, 1860, a large concourse of his fellow citizens had assembled to bid him farewell. My friends,' he said, 'no one not in my position can appreciate the sadness I feel at this parting. To this people I owe all that I am. Here I