thought I could do it," he said, as he put it down. "You try it." I did try it, and failed. Mr. Lincoln laughed, and as he passed on he said: "When I used to split rails, thirty years ago in Illinois, I could lift two axes that way; and I believe I could do it now, and I will try it some other time."

Soon after this circumstance General Grant took command of the Army of the Potomac, and in order to have all the available forces at command he ordered every able-bodied soldier to the front, and this included a detachment of cavalry which, for a long time, had been President Lincoln's body guard to and from the Soldiers' Home. I was detailed on one occasion to escort the President to the Home. While on our way we had to pass Carver Hospital. As we approached the front gate, I noticed what seemed to be a young man groping his way, as if he were blind, across the road. Hearing the carriage and horses approaching, he became frightened, and walked in the direction of the approaching danger. Mr. Lincoln quickly observed this and shouted to the coachman to rein in his horses, which he did as they were about to run over the unfortunate youth. I shall never forget the expression of Mr. Lincoln's face on this occasion. Standing beside the carriage was the young man, dressed in the uniform of a private soldier. He had been shot through the left side of the upper part of the face, and the ball, passing from one side to the other, had put out both of his eyes. He could not have been over sixteen or seventeen years of age, and, aside from his blindness, he had a very beautiful face. Mr. Lincoln extended his hand to him, and while he held it he asked him, with a voice trembling with emotion, his name, his regiment and where he lived. The young

man answered these questions, and stated that he lived in Michigan; and then Mr. Lincoln made himself known to the blind soldier, and with a look that was a benediction in itself spoke to him a few words of sympathy and bade him good-by. A few days after this incident, an old "chum" from my own regiment wrote me that he was at Carver Hospital, and asked me to come and see him. I went, and while there I asked after the blind soldier who had lost his eyes. I then learned that the following day, after his interview with the President he received a commission as a First Lieutenant in the Regular Army of the United States, accompanied by an order of retirement upon full pay; and if he is living to-day, he is doubtless drawing the salary of a First Lieutenant in the United States Army on the retired list.

I never shall forget that dark hour in our nation's history, the fourteenth of April, 1865. I was on duty at the War Department. Everything seemed peaceful, and nothing was heard but the quiet tread of the sentinel as he paced his beat. Suddenly a great commotion was heard outside, and in a moment the soldier on duty at the Pennsylvania Avenue front came rushing in, and, with a face pale as death, broke to us the tidings of the most accursed crime in modern history. The excitement, the madness and the sorrow that filled our souls on that occasion was simply indescribable. I wanted to run down to the theatre, but I dared not leave my post. While waiting, amid the most intense anxiety, Colonel Pelouze, one of the Adjutant-Generals at the War Department, rushed into the building and ordered me to take my men as fast as I could to the front door of Ford's Theatre. In less time than it takes to tell it, we started on the "double quick" for the theatre. As we

turned the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue we encountered an immense crowd gathered about the building. We quickly reversed our muskets, and, using the butts of them, freely forced our way to the door of the theatre, where we met Major Hay, then the private secretary of President Lincoln. He requested me to make a passage through the crowd, so that the President might be carried across the street to a Mr. Peterson's house, where he died the next morning. This we quickly accomplished, and soon the bleeding form of Abraham Lincoln was carried past us, and while the tears rolled down our cheeks, there was not one of our number but would have willingly shed his own blood could it but have saved the life of him we all loved so well. So ended the career of Abraham Lincoln, and from all civilized nations on the face of the earth rose a cry of sympathy and horror; sympathy for his death and horror for the dark crime that caused it!

NEW YORK CITY.

LINCOLN AS A RHETORICAL ARTIST.

HOW HE LEARNED TO DEMONSTRATE.

BY. AMOS W. PEARSON,

EDITOR OF THE NORWICH, CONN., "BULLETIN."

THE visit of Abraham Lincoln to Norwich on March 9th, 1860, is one of the memorable events of the century. It was subsequent to his great political debate with Douglas, and just prior to his nomination for the Presidency. The irrepressible conflict, which soon culminated in the Civil War, was at its height, and as a free-State champion against the extension of slavery to the Territories, Lincoln was admired and respected. The announcement that he was to make a campaign address in Norwich was a signal for one of the greatest and most enthusiastic public gatherings ever held in this place. The old town hall was packed, and concerning that speech, the Rev. John Gulliver, D.D., said: "I learned more of the art of public speaking in listening to Mr. Lincoln's address than I could have learned from a whole course of lectures on rhetoric."

The late Rev. Dr. Gulliver was so interested in Lincoln and his masterly address that he ventured to ask him where he was educated, and it was then that he replied:

"Well, as to education, the newspapers are correct. I

never went to school more than six months in my life. I can say this: That among my earliest recollections I remember how, when a mere child, I used to get irritated when anybody talked to me in a way I could not understand. I do not think I ever got angry at anything else in my life; but that always disturbed my temper, and has ever since. I can remember going to my little bedroom, after hearing the neighbors talk of an evening with my father, and spending no small part of the night walking up and down and trying to make out what was the exact meaning of some of their, to me, dark sayings.

"I could not sleep, although I tried to, when I got on such a hunt for an idea until I had caught it; and when I thought I had got it, I was not satisfied until I had repeated it over and over; until I had put it in language plain enough, as I thought, for any boy I knew to comprehend. This was a kind of passion with me, and it has stuck by me; for I am never easy now, when I am handling a thought, till I have bounded it north and bounded it south, and bounded it east and bounded it west.

"But your question reminds me of a bit of education which I am bound in honesty to mention. In the course of my law reading I constantly came upon the word demonstrate-I thought, at first, that I understood its meaning, but soon became satisfied that I did not. I said to myself, 'What do I mean when I demonstrate, more than when I reason or prove?' I consulted Webster's Dictionary. That told of 'certain proof,' 'proof beyond the probability of doubt'; but I could form no sort of idea what sort of proof that was. I thought a great many things were proved beyond the possibility of a doubt, without recourse to any such reasoning as I understood demonstration to be.