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are not astonished at it. Their devotion has

In the shops attached to this palace, among | said, "He is as good an officer as I am, is all sorts of valuble objects, vases, lamps, stat- younger, and better-tempered." But aluettes, jewels, and a fine alabaster cup, were though often irritable and rarely very found five hundred and fifty small bottles, without reckoning the cups, and numerous glass vases, containing figs, grapes, chestnuts, and lentils; together with the scales and moulds employed by bakers and pastrycooks. Was the Patheon then an inn, a hospice, where strangers were received under the protection of the gods? However it may be, the table and the altar, cookery and religion, elbowed each other in this strange palace. Our austerity revolts from it, and in our lighter moments we are amused by it; but the Catholics of the South preserved something of the ancient gaiety. For the plebeians of Naples, Christmas is a feast of eels, Easter a family merry-making; they devour Zeppole to honour St. Joseph, and the greatest proof of affliction which they can offer to Jesus dying is not to eat meat. Under the sky of Italy, dogmas may change, but religion will always be the same— - sensual, lively, passionate, intemperate, essentially and eternally heathen, adoring before all the woman, Venus or Mary, and the bambino, the mystic Cupid whom the poets call the first Love. Catholicism and Paganism, theories and mysteries if there are two religions, they are that of the South and that of the North.

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THE portraits of General Sherman that I have seen in the illustrated European papers are not much like him. They are engraved from a photograph taken from another photograph-a very poor onewhich had been" doctored" with Indian ink to better it. The only good picture is one which represents him with his coat open in a very careless way, and in a white waistcoat. General Sherman is under middle height and sparely built, has reddish brown hair and a beard somewhat lighter in hue, which, clipped short, looks stiff and bristling. Of his hair and beard, and of his dress generally, he is careless in the extreme. His brain is large and remarkably well-balanced, the head proper being high, well arched, and symmetrical. His eyes are small, penetrating, and restless, his nose aquiline, and his mouth too straight to be handsome, but firm, and not particularly good-natured in expression. In fact General Sherman is one of the most nervously restless and not the best-tempered of men. He knows this, and admits it. In speaking of one of his subordinate generals he once

and candid, but kind, and even self-sacrigracious, General Sherman is not only just ficing. He rarely sleeps at night, but does his writing and attends to his personal affairs then, and sleeps in the daytime, as he can. He does this that his men, those who are not on guard, may take their natural rest undisturbed, unless in case of great emergency. The long roll is not heard in his camps at night, except by his orders. Reports are first brought to him. He sleeps generally without a tent, under a tree, or in some such place; and during no small part of his campaign his head-quarters have consisted of nothing more than a tent fly for the use of his Adjutant-General. One morning when he had laid down to sleep under a tree by the road-side with only his orderly near him, a regiment marched past the place, and one of the men who had never seen him, supposing him plenus Bacchi, said aloud, with a glance at the two stars on his shoulder-straps, "That's the way we are commanded; officered by drunken major-gen. erals." Sherman, who was only dozing, jumped up, and said good-humouredly, "Not drunk, my boy, but I was up all night, and am very tired and sleepy." The men discovered that they were passing headquarters, and broke out into hearty cheers.

General Sherman's manner is that of selfabsorbed and restless energy. He has neither repose nor reserve, although he has great secretiveness. But unless in sleep his limbs are never still for a minute, or his eyes hardly for a second, and when he does talk he rarely allows the other colloquists to finish their sentences, or seems to put any restraint upon his tongue. He breaks in with what he has to say as soon as he has heard all that he thinks it necessary for him to hear, and pours out a succession of sharp, quick sentences, in the utterance of which he will suffer no interruption, and which he accompanies with abrupt and ungraceful, though impressive gestures. He is a great smoker, but he does not seem to enjoy his cigar. He works at it, as he does at everything he undertakes, with restless energy; pulls away at it as if the blast of a blacksmith's bellows were necessary to keep it lit; and throws it away or lays it down forgetfully when it is half consumed, and then lights another. Only on the battle-field is his uneasy, ceaseless movement of eye and limb notably moderated. There he becomes almost quiet; but he grits his teeth, and sets his lips, and half-closing his eyes like a near

the war was professor in a military college in Louisiana. His strange, nervous manner, and what were thought his exaggerated notions of the struggle upon which we were about to enter, caused him then to be looked upon by some persons as slightly insane, but, as far as I can judge, time and his acts have justified his mental soundness. With all his peculiarities of temper and of manner, General Sherman is truly modest and quick

sighted man, he seems striving to peer into, man is by nature. As to his acquirements, the invisible before him. His orders there he is a thoroughly accomplished soldier, are given in the quietest and most informal West-Point bred, and immediately before manner. He is exceedingly practical in his turn of mind, and would make an excellent commissary-general or engineer-in-chief. When he was first at Chattanooga the railway people said that it was impossible to transport more rations than it was found would just feed the army day by day, which of course left no provision for the coming campaign. Sherman immediately set himself to work, and by extending the road, planning and building two inclined planes, to recognize and acknowledge the ability of and impressing freight-cars and ferry-boats, he in one month had, instead of ninety cars of rations, two hundred and seventy coming in every day to Chattanooga. It is his way (being, in this, unlike General Grant) to look himself after all the little details of every matter he undertakes, and on this occasion he ordered the increase in the number of cars to be reported to him daily, and would appear as much pleased by the addition of a few cars to the previous day's report as if he had won a battle. This brief sketch, based upon information known to be trustworthy, gives some notion of what the

others. In a recent letter, which Reuter's telegram garbled so as to make him say that he feared too much confidence was placed in our Government and our people, he had said that he feared too much confidence had been placed in his abilities. How odd it is that the telegrams and the letters always blunder one way. It was my intention to attempt giving my readers a portrait of General Grant, who to Sherman's capacity and acquirement adds something which Sherman lacks. But this I must postpone to another opportunity.

THE MOURNING OF THE SLAVES. the churches, when organs peal the notes of grief ONE of the Commissioners for Emancipation to weeping audiences, when the voices of the was at Hilton Head in the earlier part of the war, clergy repeat in moving tones the virtues of the and overheard a gang of negroes, working for deceased, and call up again the nation's loss, and the government, talk about their final chances a whole people is bowed in affliction, there will for liberty. The question was raised among be no deeper mourning for the beloved and honthem whether the President knew their condi- ored head of the republic than in the cabins of tion and would liberate them. An aged slave the slaves. In lonely huts, where the news of among them, who seemed a "class-leader,' "the great crime has penetrated, in the villages stopped his work, and in a most impressive man ner, said to them, with a certain awe which they all evidently responded to: "De President! Why ob course he knows! He is eberywhere! He is like de bressed Lord; he walks de waters and de land!" This gentleman afterwards rela ted this incident to Mr. Lincoln, and the kindbearted man had to turn away to the window to hide his tears at this instance of touching confidence and superstitious reverence in this simpleminded race toward himself.

On this day of national mourning, when the badges of sorrow cover the dwellings of the rich, when funeral drapery festoons the public halls and

of the emancipated from Virginia and the Carolinas, in the crowed haunts of the poor negroes within the great cities, there will be grief to-day, such as needs no funeral orations, or badges of gloom and mourning. The tears of the forgotten and outcast and oppressed slave, now redeemed to his manhood, will be the sincerest tears that fall on the grave of the President. From the cottages of the poor and the downtrodden will come his truest requiem. And hundreds of thousands of honest hearts, whom the world knows not of will mourn this day the loss of their best friend and their emancipator. - New York Times.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

ORATION BY R. W. EMERSON, AT CON-
CORD, N. H.

of the Eastern States. And when the new and comparatively unknown name of Lincoln was announced, (notwithstanding the report of the acclamations of that Convention,) we heard the result coldly and sadly. It seemed too rash, on a purely local reputation, to build so grave a trust, in such anxious times; and men naturally talked of the chances in politics as incalculable. But it turned out not to be chance. The profound good opinion which the people of Illinois and of the West had conceived of him, and which they had imparted to their colleagues, that they also might justify themselves to their constituents at home, was not rash, though they did not begin to know the richness of his worth.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN. REMARKS AT THE FUNERAL SERVICES OF THE PRESIDENT, IN CONCORD, APRIL 19, 1865. By R. W. Emerson. We meet under the gloom of a calamity which darkens down over the minds of good men in all civil society, as the fearful tidings travel over sea, over land, from country to country, like the shadow of an uncalculated eclipse over the planet. Old as history is, and manifold as are its tragedies, I doubt if any death has caused so much pain to mankind as this has caused, or will cause, on its announce- A plain man of the people, an extraordiment; and this, not so much because na-nary fortune attended him. Lord Bacon tions are by modern arts brought so closely together, as because of the mysterious hopes and fears which, in the present day are connected with the name and institutions of America.

In this country, on Saturday, every one was struck dumb, and saw, at first, only deep below deep, as he meditated on the ghastly blow. And, perhaps, at this hour, when the coffin which contains the dust of the President sets forward on its long march through mourning States, on its way to his home in Illinois, we might well be silent, and suffer the awful voices of the time to thunder to us. Yes, but that first despair was brief; the man was not so to be mourned. He was the most active and hopeful of men; and his work had not perished; but acclamations of praise for the task he had accomplished, burst out into a song of triumph, which even tears for his death cannot keep down.

The President stood before us a man of the people. He was thoroughly American, had never crossed the sea, had never been spoiled by English insularity, or French dissipation; a quite native, aborigianal man, as an acorn from the oak; no aping of foreigners, no frivolous accomplishments, Kentuckian born, working on a farm, a flatboatman, a captain in the Blackhawk war, a country lawyer, a representative in the rural Legislature of Illinois, on such modest foundations the broad structure of his fame was laid. How slowly, and yet by happily prepared steps, he came to his place. All of us remember, it is only a history of five or six years, the surprise and the disappointment of the country at his first nomination by the Convention at Chicago. Mr. Seward, then in the culmination of his good fame, was the favorite

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says "Manifest virtues procure reputation; occult ones, fortune." He offered no shining qualities at the first encounter; he did not offend by superiority. He had a face and manner which disarmed suspicion, which, inspired confidence, which confirmed good-will. He was a man without vices. He had a strong sense of duty which it was very easy for him to obey. Then he had what farmers call a long head; was excellent in working out the sum for himself; in arguing his case and convincing you fairly and firmly. Then, it turned out that he was a great worker; had prodigious faculty of performance; worked easily. A good worker is so rare; everybody has some disabling quality. In a host of young men that start together, and promise so many brilliant leaders for the next age, each fails on trial; one by bad health, one by conceit or by love of pleasure, or by lethargy, or by an hasty temper, each has some disqualifying fault that throws him out of the career. But this man was sound to the core, cheerful, persistent, all right for labor, and liked nothing so well.

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Then he had a vast good-nature, which made him tolerant and accessible to all; fair-minded, leaning to the claim of the petitioner; affable, and not sensible to the affliction which the innumerable visits paid to him, when President, would have brought to any one else. And how this good-nature became a noble humanity, in many a tragic case which the events of the war brought to him, every one will remember; and with what increasing tenderness he dealt, when a whole race was thrown on his compassion. The poor negro said of him, on an impres sive occasion, "Massa Linkum am eberywhere."

Then his broad good-humor, running easily into jocular talk, in which he delighted and in which he excelled, was a rich gift to this wise man. It enabled him to keep his secret; to meet every kind of man, and every rank in society; to take off the edge of the severest decisions; to mask his own purpose and sound his companion; and to catch with true instinct the temper of every company he addressed. And, more than all, it is to a man of severe labor, in anxious and exhausting crises, the natural restorative, good as sleep, and is the protection of the overdriven brain against rancor and insanity.

He is the author of a multitude of good sayings, so disguised as pleasantries that it is certain they had no reputation at first but as jests; and only later, by the very acceptance and adoption they find in the mouths of millions, turn out to be the wisdom of the hour. I am sure if this man had ruled in a period of less facility of printing, he would have become mythological in a very few years, like Esop or Pilpay, or one of the Seven Wise Masters, by his fables and proverbs. But the weight and penetration of many passages in his letters, messages, and speeches, hidden now by the very closeness of their application to the moment, are destined hereafter to a wide fame. What pregnant definitions; what unerring common sense; what foresight; and, on great occasion, what lofty, and more than national, what humane tone! His brief speech at Gettysburg, will not easily be surpassed by words on any recorded occasion. This, and one other American speech, that of John Brown to the court that tried him, and a part of Kossuth's speech at Birmingham, can only be compared with each other, and with no fourth.

of ridicule. The times have allowed no State secrets; the nation has been in such a ferment, such multitudes had to be trusted, that no secret could be kept. Every door was ajar, and we know all that befel.

Then, what an occasion was the whirlwind of the war. Here was place for no holiday magistrate, no fair-weather sailor; the new pilot was hurried to the helm in a tornado. In four years, -four years of battle-days, his endurance, his fertility of resources, his magnanimity, were sorely tried and never found wanting. There, by his courage, his justice, his even temper, his fertile council, his humanity, he stood an heroic figure in the centre of an heroic epoch. He is the true history of the American people in his time, Step by step he walked before them; slow with their slowness, quickening his march by theirs; the true representative of this continent; an entirely public man; father of his country, the pulse of twenty millions throbbing in his heart, the thought of their minds articulated by his tongue.

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Adam Smith remarks that the axe, which, in Houbraken's portraits of British kings and worthies, is engraved under those who have suffered at the block, adds a certain lofty charm to the picture. And who does not see, even in this tragedy so recent, how fast the terror and ruin of the massacre are already burning into glory around the victim? Far happier this fate than to have lived to be wished away; to have watched the decay of his own faculties; to have seen, perhaps, even he, proverbial ingratitude of statesmen; to have seen mean men preferred. Had he not lived long enough to keep the greatest promise that ever man made to his fellowmen, the practical abolition of slavery? He had seen Tennessee, Missouri, and Maryland emancipate their slaves. He had seen Savannah, Charleston, and Richmond surrendered; had seen the main army of the rebellion lay down its arms. He had conquered the public opinion of Canada, England, and France. Only Washington can compare with him in fortune.

His occupying the chair of State was a triumph of the good sense of mankind, and of the public conscience. This middle-class country had got a middle-class President at last. Yes, in manners, sympathies, but not in powers, for his powers were superior. His mind mastered the problem of the day; and, as the problem grew, so did his com- And what if it should turn out, in the unprehension of it. Rarely was man so fit-folding of the web, that he had reached the ted to the event. In the midst of fears term; that this heroic deliverer could not and jealousies, in the Babel of counsels and parties, this man wrought incessantly with all his might and all his honesty, laboring to find what the people wanted, and how to obtain that. It cannot be said there is any exaggeration of his worth. If ever a man was fairly tested, he was. There was no lack of resistance, nor of slander, nor

longer serve us; that the rebellion had touched its natural conclusion, and what remained to be done required new and uncommitted hands, a new spirit born out of the ashes of the war; and that Heaven, wishing to show the world a completed benefactor, shall make him serve his country even more by his death than by his life.

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Nations, like kings, are not good by facility his large eyes, which in their softness and

and complaisance. "The kindness of kings consists in justice and strength." Easy good-nature has been the dangerous foible of the Republic, and it was necessary that its enemies should outrage it, and drive us to unwonted firmness, to secure the salvation of this country in the next ages."

The ancients believed in a serene and beautiful Genius which ruled in the affairs of nations; which, with a slow but stern justice, carried forward the fortunes of certain chosen houses, weeding out single offenders or offending families, and securing at last the firm prosperity of the favorites of Heaven. It was too narrow a view of the Eternal Nemesis. There is a serene Providence which rules the fate of nations, which makes little account of time, little of one generation or race, makes no account of disasters, conquers alike by what is called defeat, or by what is called victory, thrusts aside enemy and obstruction, crushes everything immoral as inhuman, and obtains the ultimate triumph of the best race by the sacrifice of everything which resists the moral laws of the world. It makes its own instruments, creates the man for the time, trains him in poverty, inspires his genius, and arms him for his task. It has given every race its own talent, and ordains that only that race which combines perfectly with the virtues of all shall endure.

beauty expressed nothing but benevolence and gentleness, are closed in death; we almost look for the pleasant smile that brought out more vividly the earnest cast of his features, which were serious even to sadness. A few years ago he was a village attorney, engaged in the support of a rising family, unknown to fame, scarcely named beyond his neighborhood; his administration made him the most conspicuous man in his country, and drew on him first the astonished gaze, and then the respect and admiration, of the world.

Those who come after us will decide how much of the wonderful results of his public career is due to his own good common sense, his shrewd sagacity, readiness of wit, quick interpretation of the public mind, his rare combination of fixedness and pliancy, his steady tendency of purpose; how much to the American people, who, as he walked with them side by side, inspired him with their own wisdom and energy; and how much to the overruling laws of the moral world, by which the selfishness of evil is made to defeat itself. But after every allowance, it will remain that members of the government which preceded his administration opened the gates to treason, and he closed them; that when he went to Washington the ground on which he trod shook under his feet, and he left the republic on a solid foundation; that traitors had seized public forts and arsenals, and he recovered them ORATION BY GEORGE W. BANCROFT, AT for the United States, to whom they be

NEW YORK.

OUR grief and horror at the crime which has clothed the continent in mourning, find no adequate expression in words and no relief in tears. The President of the United States of America has fallen by the hands of an assassin. Neither the office with which he was invested by the approved choice of a mighty people, nor the most simple-hearted kindliness of nature, could save him from the fiendish passions of relentless fanaticism. The wailing of the millions attend his remains as they are borne in solemn procession over our great rivers, along the seaside, beyond the mountains, across the prairie, to their final resting-place in the valley of the Mississippi. The echoes of his funeral knell vibrate through the world, and the friends of freedom of every tongue and in every clime are his mourners.

Too few days have passed away since Abraham Lincoln stood in the flush of vigorous manhood, to permit any attempt at an analysis of his character or an exposition of his career. We find it hard to believe that

longed; that the capital, which he found the abode of slaves, is now the home only of the free; that the boundless public domain which was grasped at, and, in a great measure, held for the diffusion of slavery, is now irrevocably devoted to freedom; that then men talked a jargon of a balance of power in a republic between slave states and free states, and now the foolish words are blown away forever by the breath of Maryland Missouri and Tennessee; that a terrible cloud of political heresy rose from the abyss threatening to hide the light of the sun, and under its darkness a rebellion was rising into indefinable proportions; now the atmosphere is purer than ever before, and the insurrection is vanishing away; the country is cast into another mould, and the gigantic system of wrong, which had been the work of more than two centuries, is dashed down, we hope forever. And as to himself personally: he was then scoffed at by the proud as unfit for his station, and now, against the usuage of later years, and in spite of numerous competitors, he was the unbiassed and

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