AT THE ARMORY

The principal event of the celebration was the banquet in the evening at the Armory. Here eight hundred and fifty members of the Centennial association with their guests were seated at seventy-one tables, and the galleries were filled with spectators and auditors. The hall of the armory was brilliantly illuminated and conspicuous among the decorations were the national colors of France and of England mingled with those of the United States. Judge J Otis Humphrey presided as toastmaster. Addresses were delivered by the French Ambassador, the British Ambassador, Senator Dolliver and Mr. Bryan. Letters of regret from Senator Cullom and Booker T. Washington were read and a poem by Charles Henry Butler. The letters, poem and addresses

with the introductory remarks of the toastmaster

are given on the following pages.

JUDGE HUMPHREY

Introducing the French Ambassador

Perhaps never again in any presence will so many of his old associates be assembled together to do honor to that immortal character given to the world by the great republic. We are in the midst of a universal celebration of which Springfield is recognized as the center, and to know what is said and done here today the world is standing at attention. Many men in all ages have taught lessons of patriotism: Mr. Lincoln taught patriotism plus humanity. He knew as few others have known the lesson that, more than wealth, more than fame, more than any other thing, is the power of the human heart.

The notion has long been prevalent in the east and to some extent among historians of the period that Mr. Lincoln's greatness was all attained after he became President. Let that fallacy be forever set at rest. True it is that the general recognition of his greatness came with his broadened

opportunities, but his old friends in Illinois had for years known his power and recognized his strength.

Those who had worked with him or who had opposed him in the arena of justice; those who were factors in his combinations who associated with him or took orders from him in his various political campaigns, knew his subtle diplomacy and his easy mastery of men. Some of those men still remain to us, some of them are here tonight. They had seen him convince courts, control juries and sway the masses; they heard the Bloomington speech and the spell of it is still over them. They knew his powers of expression, his moderation of statement; his willingness to yield nonessentials, his immovable adherence to what he regarded as important. They saw in him then what the world sees now, a rare combination of gentleness, genius and strength. So, when at Washington they saw his apparent yielding to his great secretaries, going Seward's way yesterday, and Chase's way today, and Stanton's way tomorrow, these men knew as the country did not know, that Mr. Lincoln was all the time going his own way and that he would carry the secretaries with him.

From that rugged poet, Edwin Markham, painting him in colors so rich that I could never hope to equal them, we learn that:

When the Norn-Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour,
Greatening and darkening as it hurried on,

She bent the strenuous Heavens and came down
To make a man to meet the mortal need.
She took the tried clay of the common road—
Clay warm yet with the genial heat of Earth,
Dashed through it all a strain of prophesy;
Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff.
It was a stuff to wear for centuries,

A man that matched the mountains and compelled
The stars to look our way and honor us.

The color of the ground was in him, the red earth;
The tang and odor of the primal things-

The rectitude and patience of the rocks;

The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn;
The courage of the bird that dares the sea;
The justice of the rain that loves all leaves;

The pity of the snow that hides all scars;
The loving kindness of the wayside well;

The tolerance and equity of light that gives as freely to

The shrinking weed as to the great oak flaring to the wind

The grave's low hill as to the Matterhorn

That shoulders out the sky.

And so he came.

From prairie cabin to the Capital,

One fair Ideal led our chieftain on.

Forevermore he burned to do his deed

With the fine stroke and gesture of a king.
He built the rail pile as he built the state,
Pouring his splended strength through every blow,
The conscience of him testing every stroke,
To make his deed the measure of a man.

So came the Captain with the mighty heart;
And when the step of Earthquake shook the house,
Wrenching the rafters from their ancient hold,
He held the ridge pole up, and spiked again
The rafters of the Home. He held his place-
Held the long purpose like a growing tree-
Held on through blame and faltered not at praise.
And when he fell in Whirlwind, he went down
As when a kingly cedar green with boughs
Goes down with a great shout upon the hills,
And leaves a lonesome place against the sky.

Since colonial days France has been the constant friend of America; in the recent generations when the peoples of the earth, caught up in the mighty sweep of God's purposes, have been tending more and more toward representative government, these two nations have been marching in the front rank; each has taught her citizens to speak plain, the great sweet word, Liberty; each has experienced the difficulty of teaching that the sovereignty of self over self is the highest liberty; each has taught that as liberty is the summit of society, so equality before the law is